#cause they couldn’t contact my doctor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roseharpermaxwell · 2 months

Text

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two

Nothing like being Henry's roommate to send Alex on a bisexual awakening speedrun. Enjoy this selection below!

cross your thoughtless heart by kjbee81. G, 1k. It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n. M, 1.3k. Alex puts his fingers in Henry's mouth.

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine. T, 1.4k. Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it.

“No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.”

Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

something new, something true by rizcriz. T, 1.7k. It’s Cassie in the library, Raul at the coffee shop, Emilio at the movie theater. It’s Nora and June at dinner on Thursday. It’s Ellen and Leo at brunch on Sunday. It’s knowing glances and furtive comments from bloody well everyone they know or come in contact with.

Everywhere Henry turns, it’s people looking between him and Alex like they know something they don’t. Like they’re seeing something that isn’t there. And he knows what it is. Knows what they’re thinking.

He didn’t, but he does now.

Everyone thinks Alex and Henry are dating.

It's hard to lie with water in my lungs by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. M, 1.7k. Best friends Alex and Henry get caught in a storm on their way home, and once there, find themselves in an unexpected situation.

high expectations by rizcriz. T, 1.9k. Alex is lying in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, tubes sticking out of his arms. He looks like he’s gone through an entire ordeal, only, as soon as Henry walks through the door, his eyes go wide, and he’s grinning, a big, toothy smile, bits of cotton sticking out from the corners of his mouth, and sleepily slurring out something that sounds suspiciously like Henry’s name.

His gaze darts to the doctor.

Just as he’s about to ask, there’s a flutter of a movement, the racing sound of the heart monitor going crazy. He snaps his eyes over to look at the monitor—doesn’t understand anything other than the fact that Alex’s heart is going crazy enough to set off several alarms, the beeping quick and scary, and all the information Henry just forced upon himself comes racing to the forefront of his mind as he scurries further into the room, wide eyed and panicked. He looks between the doctor and the nurse, but they’re holding back smiles as they look at each other, barely paying any mind to the monitor.

I kissed a boy and I liked it by @gallifrey1sburning. T, 2k. Henry has no idea what the context would have even been to have spurred such a comment. He only heard it due to one of those mysterious moments that happen every so often in crowded rooms at the most inopportune times where the volume on all conversations inexplicably lowers simultaneously, allowing one statement that was most likely not intended for mass audiences to ring throughout a space. In this case, the somewhat offended sounding announcement of one Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry’s tragically heterosexual roommate and long unrequited crush:

“Of course I’ve kissed a guy before; I’m not homophobic. Jesus.”

Alex is a bit confused about the concept of allyship. Henry is possibly going to die.

kiss me once 'cause you know by @ninzied. T, 2.1k. Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

(In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

love don't by @smc-27. E, 2.4k. Alex calls the stupid advice podcast because he’s bored and out of ideas and he’s been trying his best, but Henry doesn’t seem to be feeling any better.

“My friend was seeing this guy for four months, and then just got straight up ghosted. What can I do to support him?”

The podcast host - a comedian most of the time - answers, “Oh, you’re gonna have to fuck him.”

you pull me in tight by @miss-minnelli. T, 2.5k. Tonight, they’re watching A New Hope, a compromise, since they spent half an hour bickering about episodes V and VI. Alex has his bare legs in Henry’s lap and Henry is gently rubbing his hand up and down Alex’s right shin.

It’s very possible Alex has died and gone to heaven, but he fucking hopes not, because this is actual bliss. Henry’s eyes are focused on the screen, smiling at something Luke is saying, but Alex hasn’t been watching the movie at all. He’s transfixed by Henry’s hand on his leg, ruffling his leg hair and stroking his ankle with each pass.

Or, Henry and Alex find each other after a bit of a detour.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz. T, 2.8k. Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him.

And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame.

bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days by @spiritsontheroof G, 2.9k. It’s been years, really, since he got that tell-tale pressure behind his eyes and ball of tension at the top of his spine. He pinches the bridge of his nose and when that doesn’t work, he reaches around to the back of his neck and presses right at his hairline, desperate for some kind of relief.

forehead kisses. by dreakawa. M, 3.2. Movie nights had become a weekly tradition for Alex and Henry.

As per usual, the movie Henry had chosen had Alex slowly dozing off next to him, his body relaxing onto the couch. He feels Henry grab the blanket and place it over him, and then-

Well, then, Henry’s fingers begin carding through his hair, and Alex doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s evident Henry doesn’t know he’s awake, but the touch feels… nice. Safe. Comforting in a way he didn’t realize he needed.

And then… well. And then.

Henry leans down and kisses his forehead, and his entire fucking world tips on its axis.

There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.3k. Henry has a bad date.

Alex makes him a bet he can't refuse.

three seconds until the world ends by rizcriz. T, 3.3k. When Henry agreed to come with Alex to June and Nora’s for a party, he’d considered a million possibilities. Alex wandering off with someone and leaving Henry to fend for himself; June bringing out vodka jello shots (again) to try and get Henry to open up. Karaoke. A house full of strangers celebrating the New Year. Basically, the norm.

What he did not expect, however, was for June and Nora to decide that it was far too late, and Alex and Henry were far too drunk to go home when everyone else left at 3am.

Henry did not account for the singular guest room.

all i know since yesterday (is everything has changed) by saintsnames. G, 3.3k. henry and alex have been roommates for three and a half years when alex's girlfriend washes his sweatshirt in tide detergent and a realization unravels.

Red-Bull Lattes FTW by ItsMayBiTheWay. T, 3.4k. It was inadvisable. Alex knew it was inadvisable the first time he did it, and he knew it the second time he did it. By the third time he was so high on caffeine, his hands were shaking, but one might argue attending law school was inadvisable as well. So Red-Bull lattes it is.

After mainlining three Red-Bull lattes to survive the last of his law school final of the semester, Alex finds himself in the hospital, his asshole of a roommate by his side. Why the fuck is Henry there? And why things he’s hearing throwing his world off its axis.

It leads you here, despite your destination by @dreamsinthewitchouse. M, 3.5k. “So.” Alex unwinds his scarf and drapes it over the back of the couch, turning to Henry. “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word coils in Henry’s gut, a sugar-sweet spiral. “Thank you,” he says, not trusting his voice for more.

i need that charles dickens by @whimsymanaged. E, 3.6k. Henry’s flatmate (and crush) Alex is suddenly obsessed with Charles Dickens. But when Henry asks to borrow Alex’s Dickens, he quickly learns that Alex hasn’t, in fact, been talking about a book.

Every Time I Fold A Paper Crane by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.6k. The story of Alex and Henry's relationship as roommates, and the birthday card that changes it all.

love drunk, waiting on a miracle by gallifreyandglowclouds. E, 3.6k. Henry wears grey sweatpants. Alex reacts (in)appropriately.

there's one prize i'd cheat to win by @coffeecatsme. T, 3.6k. They’ve been roommates for eight years now, through Georgetown to New York, law school and grad school and ultimately their jobs, and Alex can’t imagine his life without Henry. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate.

Too bad Henry has a boyfriend already.

Or, 5 times Alex is jealous over Henry's "boyfriend" and 1 time he realizes he doesn't have to be.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine (i feel like i might sink and drown and die) by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. It feels good. Henry’s touch feels good against his skin, and it’s not like when June hugs him so tight after not seeing him for days, not like when Nora bumps his shoulder or ruffles his hair and he wants her to get the fuck away. Not like when Henry has touched him a million times before, hands brushing as they walked, platonic cuddles during movie nights, hands on his elbow and his wrist and his chin whenever there’s a bit of chocolate on the corner of his lips or he needs someone to steady him. It’s too warm, too solid, peeling off layers of his skin until Alex kind of wants to check if somehow his internal organs are exposed, except he doesn’t because he’s worried Henry will stop if he moves and he…

Fucking hell, he doesn’t want Henry to stop, does he?

Alex finds himself in Henry's arms after a night of drinking and realizes some things.

In the teeth of strong opposition by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 4k. "You know what?" Henry says loudly, annoyed beyond belief that he has to hear for the millionth time how fucking cool Alex is with Henry's sexuality. "If you're such a good ally, why don't you suck me off? Since you're so insistent, why not get on your knees, Alex?"

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's not like he can shove them back into his mouth; he can't take them back. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the shocked expression on Alex's face and takes a few deep breaths.

"Sorry," he says tightly a moment later, eyes still closed. "That was uncalled for."

"Do you want me to?"

in the dip of your collarbone (baby that's called home) by rizcriz. T, 4.2k. Alex has had too much to drink.

Alex has had too much to drink and he’s practically horizontal, held up only by the strength of his roommates singular arm while said roommate is dribbling fucking Patron into the dip between his clavicle so he can lap it up with his tongue.

or two idiots are in love.

it hits different 'cause it's you by coffeecatsme. E, 4.3k. “Fuck, I need someone to like, rail me to next week so I stop worrying about this class.”

Henry chokes on his tea in an attempt not to spurt it all over his computer. He turns to his roommate. “Alex?” he says carefully. “Could you…repeat that, please?”

Or, Alex needs to get railed. Henry provides.

you taste like home by whitescarves. T, 4.4k. “I lied to you,” he says.

He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t have to.

Alex toys with his fingers. Quiet settles over them, offset by the pattering rain.

“I know.”

Or, the rizcriz prompt where Alex and Henry are roommates and Henry lies when Alex confesses his feelings in order to protect their dynamic.

Riding slow 'cause you know the world's moving too fast by earth_to_alex16. T, 4.9k. Maybe he should be reaching for the stars, like his parents told him. Moving mountains. Changing the world.

But all he wants to do is tackle one small hurdle at a time, Henry right by his side.

Forever.

So what does that say about him?

Four times Alex and Henry face collisions, and the one time a collision yields stars.

all this bitching and moaning. by @chaa-kiao. M, 5k. His door creaks. “Alex.”

Henry. Fresh tears splash over his cheeks. “Since when do you ignore my boundaries?”

“Since you—” Henry sputters. “For Christ’s sake, I haven’t allowed myself a single shred of hope in four years, can you blame me for not being able to stand it?”

Alex’s sexuality—straight—is the punchline of most Super Six jokes. He starts figuring out why that bothers him so much.

be with you day and night (all i need is time) by chanmosphere. T, 5.2k. Five times Henry is about to confess and one time Alex does it first.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes. E, 5.3k. Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

coming clean by ninzied. E, 5.8k. Objectively, Henry knows it’s not so big a deal. They’ve seen each other naked before, in a strictly gym locker sort of way. Here should be no different, really. Either way, it's no place for deeply guarded fantasies about his housemate—his best mate—to go. Either way, Alex is straight. Either way, Alex is not even looking.

Or, 3 times Alex wants to talk about his day while Henry's in the shower + 1 time he wants other things.

it's all fun and games (til somebody loses their mind) by @theprinceandagcd. T, 6k. He’s left standing there, listening to the thudding of his pulse in his ears, trying to swallow the sudden nausea twisting in his belly. Alex is long gone, like he flipped Henry’s world upside down without a single care and walked away from him similarly, with no concern for the destruction left behind in the wake.

Alex had kissed him.

He’d done so for several moments, a full stretch of countable time, like he’d meant it, and then disappeared in a split second once he’d achieved his victory, the apparent purpose of his kiss.

As if it had meant nothing.

---

Alex kisses Henry during a game of laser tag, and then pretends it was just a distraction, only he can't stop thinking about it, either.

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) by affectionatelyrs, @happiness-of-the-pursuit. T, 6.1k.

A sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

Tap not working. Called plumber 5th Oct.

A new sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

fixed. told plumber not to bother.

A new sticky note, placed to the right of the sink:

Did you wear the uniform and everything?

A new sticky note, placed below the previous sticky note:

wouldn’t you like to know?

Or, Alex and Henry fall in love one note at a time

Run the Risk by etherealdimini. NR, 6.1k. Henry smiles at him. Then, he shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake out a thought. “Well, thank you for having David. I should, um, get going. I wouldn’t want to bother you even further on a Sunday morning. I suppose I’ll see you—”

“I could have you, too,” Alex blurts out. Henry’s mouth drops open slightly.

Henry moves in beside Alex. Alex is enamoured. He does something about it.

Uncut not Uncultured by @inexplicablymine. E, 6.4k. “Excuse me? Have I dealt with Uncircumcised Dick? Are you at a hookup or something right now and a little lost?”

“Yes, have you dealt with uncircumcised dick, no I’m not at a hookup, I am having an existential crisis and I need support okay Liam!” Alex’s voice pitches up at the end showing that he really is worried about something to do with foreskin.

__________________

One Trader Joe’s Pride themed phallic treat, one existential crisis with your ex and his current lover, one hot and steamy night to work it all out.

YourMusicSucksAndYouLookLikeADickhead by cloudymilk. E, 6.7k. In which Alex gets a new neighbour who immediately pisses him off, and they begin blaring their music to communicate with each other.

oh shit...are we in love? by sunnysideprince. T, 6.8k. They are practically polar opposites. Henry is quiet and introverted where Alex is definitely not, but it works for them just fine. It’s just like what Ms. Benson taught them about magnets. Opposites attract, and Henry wouldn’t have it any other way.

down the hall, through the door by kwrites. E, 7k. Alex had found his door opening at least once a week, Henry’s tall frame filling the space looking for something or other. The thing is, Henry seemed so well put together all of the time, that him constantly running out of common household supplies or food is so outside the walls of what Alex expects from him.

or, Henry and Alex are neighbors and Henry has a habit of stopping by unannounced.

peekaboo, baby by celeritas2997. E, 7k. Henry might die.

“You good?”

“I—er—fine,” Henry stammers. His blasted, traitorous eyes lock onto where Alex is hanging out.

Alex follows Henry’s gaze. His surprise is short-lived before he cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Henry is definitely going to die.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by @affectionatelyrs. T, 7.2k. “Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?”

There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react.

“Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?”

Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

deep in the dreaming of you by ninzied. E, 7.4k. Alex isn’t sleeping after a recent breakup. Henry tries to be the supportive best friend, because he knows all too well what it’s like to lose sleep over pining for someone.

Or, Alex is pining. Henry is just very wrong about whom.

(looked to the sky and said) please, I've been on my knees by theprinceandagcd. M, 7.5k. But Henry is not Alex’s.

He won’t ever be Alex’s to hold and cherish and love.

Because Henry chose someone else.

That searing pain is why Alex has folded his limbs into a patio bench on their balcony, feeling petulant and hating himself for it. It’s the reason that he’s a quarter of the way into the bottle he’s holding and pouting up at the sky, looking for stars that he knows are there but aren’t showing themselves to him, like maybe they’ve abandoned him, too.

He feels like he’s staring up at an endless expanse of darkness and wishing on fucking nothing, his prayers falling on deaf ears and getting forever lost in that infinite abyss.

----

or, Alex gets drunk because Henry is on a date & drunken confessions ensue

in your arms (the happiest place on earth) by rizcriz. T, 7.6k. Alex stares at the text, his heartbeat thrumming wild and free in his veins, because what the fuck. Not because of the content of the text, as mundane and normal as it is; not Henry thinking about him when he’s several states away without him; not the fact he’s even texted while Alex is in the middle of the busiest damn park at Disney World.

It’s the words that pop into his head as soon as he reads the text:

Fuck, I love him.

What. The. Fuck.

Or, the happiest place on earth isn't where you'd expect it to be.

Sprinkler Splashes To Fireplace Ashes by @iboatedhere. T, 7.7k. "So, tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell, really," Henry says, smiling into the phone when Pez sighs dramatically.

"Henry. You are young, beautiful, living in an exciting city half a world away, and you say there's nothing to tell?"

"I'm over thirty," Henry counters as he strains his tea into his mug. "I found a gray hair three days ago, and I'm in Georgetown—the most exciting thing I've seen is the neighbor from three houses down trying to fight a ticket for double parking."

"Was he successful?"

"No."

Pez hums. "You should get out more."

coming on fast like good dreams do by @cricketnationrise. E, 7.5k. When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face.

“Run that by me again?” he asks faintly.

“I need your help.”

“Right…”

“I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug.

Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

One More Weekend by @underthefigtree777. E, 7.7k. “Are you going to miss me?” Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist from behind. His chin rests gently on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex doesn’t know how to answer the question. He already misses Henry.

The unspoken rules they made for whatever they’ve been doing over the past year have slowly started to deteriorate. Now that there is an end in sight, there isn’t much point in minimizing the small talk. There’s no need to sneak back to their respective apartments in the middle of the night to avoid waking up next to each other in the morning.

Or, Alex and Henry have been neighbors and fuck buddies for the past year. Alex realizes his feelings for Henry might be more than casual when he learns that Henry is moving back to London.

(how's one to know?) I'd live and die for moments that we stole. by untoward. G, 8k. He kissed Henry.

But it wasn’t a long or deep kiss, it was a peck. He did that to a lot of people; Nora, his old friends from back home, hell, even strangers at parties. He knows he’s an affectionate person and this is just an extension of that. Plus, he’s really comfortable in his sexuality to know it doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

5+1 Things where Alex keeps giving Henry kisses and claiming he's just being his affectionate, straight self.

we broke all the pieces (still wanna play the game) by theprinceandagcd. E, 8.5k. “Henry.” Alex crawls over and braces his hands on Henry's thighs, sitting up on his knees so that he can meet Henry's gaze. His own lips curl automatically when he sees that Henry is already smiling, but he schools his features into a more serious expression. “Do you want to play?”

“Do you?” Henry reaches out to push a curl away from Alex's forehead, trailing a finger down the side of his face and making Alex shiver. He leans down until his mouth is beside Alex's ear, and Alex feels lightheaded all of a sudden, his breath held hostage in his lungs. “Because you're going to lose.”

Alex shoves him away, shaking his head as that challenge reverberates in his brain and sparks fire in his veins, accelerating his heart rate as he grins. “You're fucking on, Fox.”

----

or, Alex and Henry are best friends who are *definitely* not into each other, so they get a little tipsy and play gay chicken that neither of them are willing to lose.

Number Neighbour by aforgottennymph. E, 9.2k. Henry likes his new neighbours well enough - There’s Mrs Bennett in 6D, who always pinches his cheek when she passes him in the hall. Mr Ewing in 3B, that Henry always helps carry his groceries up the stairs as he doesn’t trust the lifts. There’s Emily from 4A, who always stops Henry in the halls to show him photos of her baby, who has recently learned how to put square shaped blocks into square shaped holes.

And then there's Alexander Claremont Diaz in 2E that he has been steadily falling in love with via text message, despite never meeting the man.

He's bloody screwed.

I Get On My Knees by quill_and_ink. E, 9.5k. What the fuck is Henry Fox doing in his bed? His best friend, his roommate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world - why in the everloving fuck is Henry in his bed?

Better question - why the fuck is Henry naked in his bed?

bacterial? fungal? nah, baby, we're going viral by @benwvatt. T, 10k. It’s okay, Henry thinks. This is who he is on Eureka Boys, magnanimous, gracious, intelligent. Perhaps it’s a role he embodies. Perhaps it’s his actual personality.

It takes time to figure out.

Alex gulps just then, and Henry follows the languid dip of his Adam’s apple down, down the exquisite column of his throat; Henry follows the hand that scratches at his starchy collar. Henry stares into the middle distance and wants him.

In which Alex and Henry run a science comedy podcast while in college, and Henry spends every episode pining madly after his (seemingly) straight best friend. Yes, they do flirt while talking about animal sex.

Through His Stomach by KiwianaPods (kiwiana), lovecommahannah. E, 13k. “Do you think we can save the pot?” Henry asks, moving to run it under water in the sink.

“Not a chance,” Alex says with a laugh. “But here. Go sit down. I know my way around a kitchen pretty well, so you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this."

Or: How to get your roommate to fall in love with you, in 5+1 beginner friendly(ish) recipes.

It's a Strange Way of Saying that I Know, I'm Supposed to Love You by sunflowerjpg. T, 13k. “So… Alex is bi.”

“Y-yes, I heard,” he responds through a gulp.

“When do you plan on making your move?” June asks, straight forward as always.

“June! I can’t! He just came out, how can I take advantage of that? I can’t just say, “Hey Alex! Now that you’re into men, do you fancy sucking my cock?” He would have me committed! Jailed! Deported! And what if he came to his sexuality because he met someone? Oh, god.”

“Okay, ew, I’d expect more romance.” June protests just as Bea scoffs.

---

Moving 3,399 miles across the ocean with just his dog and whatever clothing he could fit in his travel bag to attend NYU behind his grandmother’s back was not one of Henry’s most sane ideas. Thankfully he meets his roommate on move-in day—one charming, inevitable, Alex Claremont-Diaz—and they slowly fall in love during their first year living together. Henry thinks it's completely unrequited, Alex thinks they’re dating the whole time.

Lovefool by aforgottennymph. E, 18k. Henry has been in love with his roommate and best friend since the moment they met, caught in the rain outside their college apartment. Over the next four years he learns everything there is to know about Alex Claremont Diaz, what makes him tick.

He knows his coffee order, the meaning behind how he narrows his eyes one way versus a slightly different way. He knows how to make him finish in under thirty seconds (“That was one fucking time, sweetheart!”).

If only he could have him, wholeheartedly, not just the friends with benefits arrangement they have stumbled into.

The Flatshare, or Two Boys One Bed by momsgoldteeth. G, 18k. The Craigslist ad reads, 'I work nights and only require the apartment between the hours of 9am to 4:30pm Monday through Friday. The flat would be yours 4:30pm to 9am Monday through Friday as well as all day and night on Saturday and Sunday.' Henry and Alex share a bed. Henry and Alex have never met. (Based on Beth O'Leary's 'The Flatshare'.)

Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 19k. When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know.

Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even.

But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

Murphy’s Law (aka, A series of most (un)fortunate events) by Djokodal_Fan. M, 22k. If something can go wrong, it will.

The somewhat cynical statement of the Murphy's law has never really appealed to Henry - but he can't help start believing in it more and more, after the magnificently gorgeous, witty and compassionate Alex Claremont-Diaz moves in to the house next door to his. Basically, the man of Henry's most fervent dreams and deepest desires. They quickly become good friends, but somehow, every so often, Murphy's Law strikes when he's in Alex's company and leaves Henry feeling either flustered and tongue-tied, or completely mortified, or utterly distressed. It's not long before he starts disconsolately wondering if the very Universe is conspiring to keep him away from the man of his dreams. If he is Thisbe to Alex's Pyramus, and Henry's destiny is to always keep pining from across the picket fence separating their homes.

Alex, of course, has radically different ideas. ☺️

Newton's Fourth Law by dilfpickles. E, 26k. In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

You Make my Head Spin by starry_pisces. E, 26k. Henry and Alex become roommates while both attending classes at NYU. Alex learns what it's like to live with (and love) someone with an invisible disability. Feelings abound.

thinking out loud by later2dae. T, 27k. Alex has a new neighbor. The walls are quite thin. One night, he hears a voice, but it's not what he expects.

OR the one where Henry berates himself and Alex thinks that it's Henry's horrible boyfriend.

wrung out by arcticmaggie. M, 35k. So excuse him if he passes by Henry one night, both in pajamas and on their way to their respective rooms, both about to end their day at the same time, and his pinky slightly grazes against Henry’s right hip, immediately making him stop, whip around and stutter out, “H-Hey.”

It startles Henry—it startles Alex as well, Jesus—as he stumbles with his steps and turns around, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden break in peaceful silence in their apartment.

“Hey?” he replies.

Law student Alex is incredibly touch-starved and his English Lit PhD roommate Henry is right there.

If you know a firstprince author handle I may have missed tagging or find a broken link, please give me a heads up! Happy reading.

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Part One

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

209 notes · View notes

bigtedbear · 2 months

Text

" 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐥𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it

full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot

to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

A pained scream ripped through the air.

It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck. In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat. Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.

In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin. Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy. There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was.

Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss. Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface… what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.

Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed. But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood. Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient. The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene. The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.

Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers. Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic. A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand. Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey. Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on.

When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze.

Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks.

The skin was pulled taut in another scream. Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible.

“Stop… STOP!” He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker. In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats. “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!”

Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely. An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place.

He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand.

There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor? Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony?

But no, not even in the slightest.

Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view. The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.

“Stop it, you’re hurting him!”

He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim. With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea.

In the end,

he wasn’t faced with a crew member.

...

A merman.

Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore.

It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators.

What was this one doing so far out…?

With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air. From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red. Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person.

But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.

“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!”

He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours. His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.

At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.

Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.

“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?”

The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute.

“Excuse me?”

You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net. The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.

“Mermaid scales are priceless. So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.”

His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic. “I- I-”

“You?” Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor? You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

“I-” his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma.

When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.

“I'll pay for him!"

“...”

He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?” He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it. Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”

“...”

Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least.

Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you.

The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best. In fact, it only created more problems. Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances.

Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin. If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection. After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized. Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.

Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust.

"..."

You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you. It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet. Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?

He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food… or soup. He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them.

"..."

You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss. After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body. In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.

Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell. Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.

Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you. You, for obvious reasons. The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net. Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.

Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out. Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner. After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy.

But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party.

You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape. The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder.

"..."

With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone. Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.

The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became.

Yes, you knew how to eat a fish.

Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel.

No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.

You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat. He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you…?”

‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’

Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand. Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.

He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth.

“...”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls.

You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor.

“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"

You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”

He tilted his head curiously.

“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks." You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.”

“I see.”

You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”

"..."

“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap.

“How much did you end up paying for me?” You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls. I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters. Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.”

The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh… oh my god, absolutely not!” He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest. Please, just rest well and remain healthy. That would be the best payment.”

“What’s this?”

He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers.

“It’s a pearl.”

He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look. “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”

You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.”

He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?”

You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.”

He cocked his head to the side, “You… made a pearl?”

You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”

He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you. “No… I’m afraid I didn’t know.” His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?”

“...hm?”

He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?”

You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”

He frowned, “I… have?”

‘-and I didn’t notice?’

You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit. "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.”

His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them…? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?”

You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium. “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.”

‘Ah… so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’

But then it hit him.

“Why were you crying?”

You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command. We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.”

He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist. He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.”

You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it. There’s no use trying to return it.”

“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot. “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.”

“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.” You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.

“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition. It is quite literally my job. If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.”

You huffed, “Well, I guess you caught me.”

His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.”

“...”

This time, he sighed. “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless. I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner. You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.”

“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.

“But I am,” you cut him off. “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money. Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you. I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”

The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again. He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing. I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.”

You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow. You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.” You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”

Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”

But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me. You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”

“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again. I refuse to even think about it.”

“..."

Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself. I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.” He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now, I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.” He pushed the pearl back into your hands. “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?”

“It’s not exactly how I remember it.”

You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.

“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable. You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub. “It’s… cold.”

Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand. “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”

You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.”

“...”

It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha. Things got… less tense between the two of you.

You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin. You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage. You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub. Mostly, you’d nap. But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping.

Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards. You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.

You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.

You opened up more and more about your life down below. Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information. Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy. But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he?

“...”

Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck. As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away.

You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue. Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home.

Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all. “You can let go now.”

Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago. You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.

You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end.

Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.

It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.

In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you.

“...”

You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity. You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices. Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much.

That didn't make it any easier.

“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?”

He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”

You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not.

You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.

His eyes widened.

“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”

Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.

“Well? You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.” You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.”

He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers. He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage.

It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.

Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled.

“...”

“Did... your mother like jewelry?”

You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.”

Luocha nodded. “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?”

At this, you paused. “I mean… I guess she did. She wore a lot of rings… why?”

“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off, “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”

You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red. “You… you know what you’re offering me, r-right?”

He didn’t respond in the way you expected. Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand. The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.

It felt like your brain was melting.

‘Is he… flirting with me?’

You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand.

When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder. He framed the golden hoop with his palm. Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?”

‘...’

‘He’s definitely flirting.’

You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm.

‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’

Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.

‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’

“[name]?”

You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal. “Sorry, sorry.”

He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again. “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.”

You nodded.

“...”

The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle.

“...[name]?”

You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand. “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.”

He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would…” he paused. He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?”

You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands. “You have to promise to visit me a lot. It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.”

He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink.

“You promise?”

He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his. “I promise I’ll visit.”

a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)

Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something

“What’s got you so worked up?”

“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.”

Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!” He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up. “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets. I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?”

You frowned, “I’m not that old.”

Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces. “You’re old to me.”

Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted. For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him. “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.”

The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?”

You bit your lip.

I mean, yes, you were married.

But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first.

Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom. He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery.

In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different.

Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you. “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!”

“I-”

“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma. “What do they look like? Do I know them?” He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!”

You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!”

“...”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.”

You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.

He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!”

“Right about what?”

Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age. “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.”

He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.” You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out. “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.” He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”

“HAH!”

Your ears fluttered in irritation. “That’s a horrible guess.”

Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time. If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.”

Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.”

“...”

“...’

“...”

“You WHAT?!”

Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-”

“It’s a long story-” You started,

“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror. “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-” You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!”

“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.

“So it’s a him…” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin. His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head. “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!”

“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!”

You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact. “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys. Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?”

Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms. “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!”

Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below. “I think I’m going to faint.”

You sighed, “Well-”

Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like? What pod is he even from?!”

“He’s not from a pod-”

Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?”

Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.”

Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod? He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.”

Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.”

You shook your head, “He’s a human.”

“...”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re joking…”

You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger.

“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.”

Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!”

You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top. “He’s… a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship. He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.”

Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.”

Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?”

“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-”

“YOU made the first move?!”

“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”

“...go on.”

You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears. You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.”

Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly. “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!”

Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.”

You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.”

“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”

“Touche.”

“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.”

Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side.

You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular. “You’re one to talk.”

He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.” He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around.

I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better. Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him. Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.

You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him. From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something. He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him. He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk. Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value!

Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him.

Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden. Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him. For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released. Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much.

Even worse when the physical affection began. It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing. It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him. Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.

He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest?

Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg. He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate. Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.

Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat. He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.

You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach. Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own. The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment.

“...”

You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck. As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with. Each and every one, he could put a time and day to.

But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger.

“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”

“...hm?”

You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow. His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.

“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand. “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.”

His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.” He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring…” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him. He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom. “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.”

You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.

He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like…

…a replica of your mother’s earrings.

He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement.

Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers.

“...”

“...Well? Do you like it?”

You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing. Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.

“I like it.”

He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.”

“...”

“She would’ve loved to meet you.”

“Hm?”

You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring. “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.”

Luocha blinked.

“Pardon?”

You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.”

“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”

“...

…Did you not know?”

Luocha blinked.

“We’re married.”

Another blink.

“You… Is that why…?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand. He looked back towards his own bag of gifts.

‘Oh for crying out loud-’

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have… entered this marriage under false pretenses.” He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”

You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water. When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you. When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.”

He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically.

Okay, so he accidentally got married.

What the fuck.

The train of thought seemed to end there.

…

He was, however, plagued with another train of thought.

‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’

…

Those thoughts were not helping.

“...”

“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”

“NO!”

Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth. “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.”

Your brows furrowed.

“...”

“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”

The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment. “I-”

You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face, “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.”

Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity. “Well…”

You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.

Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.

“Close your eyes.”

You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after.

Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.

He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he…

…planted an innocent peck on your lips.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "

first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!

yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"

that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????

i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad

you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((

i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)

shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this

if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut

- love, operator t-19

312 notes · View notes

kenmakodz · 2 months

Text

it's hard :/

── .✦ yuuta x reader.

syn: sorcerer!yuuta has been neglecting doctor!reader in their relationship recently.

angsty angst, swearing, implications of a breakup, gn reader.

take everything from me, don’t care ‘bout this money,

you didn’t miss the way yuuta’s eyes glazed over, a reflection of the ring you just tugged off your finger shining back at you. it was a beautiful, princess-cut ring, with a big fat gemstone in the middle.

“it’s my promise to you”, he said.

“that i’ll stick by your side. forever”, he said.

he said a lot of things, didn’t he?

the ring never left your finger since that day, your first anniversary. he couldn’t have been more proud to be your boyfriend, parading you around like the two of you had just gotten engaged. holding your hand out towards your mutual friend, maki, as if you were royalty. of course, she played her natural indifferent facade, yet gossiped with you later on about how the hell he could’ve afforded that.

you don’t miss the way he flinches when it’s slammed onto the marble countertop, the palm of your hand covering where it’s sat.

“your promise, to me huh? what a joke, okkotsu.”

i just need you by me, need you right beside me.

“okkotsu…?” he shakily lets out, his voice merely higher than a whisper. he was scared to speak even half a tone louder, scared that you’d be caught like a deer in headlights and run off.

“really, that’s what you’re calling me now?”

as his final question leaves his mouth, he’s left staring back at you as a laugh he’s never heard before escapes your mouth. it’s not your normal, sweet, beautiful laugh. no, it’s something sinister- something laced with hate.

“what do you expect?!”

another laugh comes from you, almost as though you have gone completely manic. if he squinted, though, your pupils weren’t blown. you knew exactly what you were doing. it was simply a breaking point.

“you never put in any effort anymore! why should i address you with love in my heart, when i barely even get a ‘hello’?”

you throw your hands up into a shrugging position, causing him to flinch once more as he watches them fly right back down onto the ring. his head is in his hands now, and a long, deep breath is had before he formulates his next response.

“y/n, i love you.” brows furrowed, his gaze flicks down to your hands on the countertop, before reluctantly raising to make contact with your own.

… really?

before you can even take a breath and begin your next quip towards him, he continues. his tone isn’t angry, nor is it upset. you’re usually very good at pinpointing yuuta’s emotions, why is it so difficult now?

i remember watching the sunset, my world, it got darker

my life, is it done yet? wrap it up like a spider.

“ever since our two friend groups formed into one, when i saw you from the first time, i’ve loved you. ever since those same friends planned a picnic and we were the only ones who actually showed up, i’ve loved you. ever since the night we went to the beach and i watched you pick through sand for hours looking for sea glass, i’ve loved you. through the countless nights we’ve spent driving around going absolutely nowhere, i’ve loved you. it’s always been you, ever since i met you, and you want to throw it all away?”

the smallest, almost unnoticeable glimmer of hope spreads through his face, as if he’s gripping onto his final life force.

you missed it, for the very first time.

“don’t guilt trip me, please. you know that’s not what i’m doing.” you sigh, almost getting angry at yourself. a world of guilt is tumbling down on top of you; you shouldn’t be feeling like this, he’s been neglectful. you know giving into him is wrong, just like it always has been in the past.

why are you letting him get to your head again?

he’s hurt, and that you don’t miss. his left hand starts to tug at the chain around his neck, which holds his matching ring. it didn’t fit when he got it for himself, and the two of you constantly forget to get it resized. so, putting it on a necklace was the next best option.

i know that it’s hard to be with me.

and i’ve been trying to hard to be what you need.

“i’m not guilt tripping you, i’m trying to make you see my side! i know i haven’t given you much attention, and i know it’s my fault, but you know how taxing being a sorcerer is! for fucks sake, y/n, your everyday life is filled with aiding to them! it’s not an excuse, and i know that, but just because life has been hard lately isn’t a reason to throw four years away!” he allows his tone to rise, to let his raw emotion bleed through, which he almost never does. sure, the two of you have gotten into ‘fights’ before, but never in his life has he raised his voice at you. you deserve better than that, he thought. he never wants to take his anger out on you.

you shove the ring into your pocket, and turn on your heels, finished with the conversation. he isn’t hearing you, and frankly, you don’t want to hear him either.

yuuta almost goes to grab your arm, plead for you to stay, practically get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what it came to. but something inside him told him to let you go, let you clear your head. he loathes leaving things unresolved. the nights with you in the guest room, and the side of the bed where you usually sleep being cold. the nights where he stays up staring at the ceiling instead of being fast asleep with you in his arms. he hates it. but this time, he lets it happen.

i had to take a walk, i’m nervous, wonder when you’re coming back. and i can feel the distance growing, was it something that i said?

⤷ © kenmakodz

211 notes · View notes

doctorbitchcrxft · 6 months

Text

Bloody Mary | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions/descriptions of parental death, implication of suicide (take care of yourselves, my loves)

Word Count: 6379

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Dean hadn’t talked much since the events on the plane. In fact, the two of you barely looked at each other anymore. Not out of disgust, your stomach just fluttered every time you caught a glimpse of him for reasons you couldn’t explain. You didn’t exactly like him, but you definitely didn’t hate him, either. In fact, your most recent journal drawing had been of your hand wrapped in Dean’s. You smiled at the memory.

Sam slept in the front seat while Dean drove the three of you to Toledo, Ohio. You had actually been the one to find this case. Steven Shoemaker’s eyes had bled when he died. According to his obituary, his death had been swift. He was much too young to have had a stroke or an aneurysm, and seemed to be in good health. Therefore, you concluded this was your kind of gig.

Sam began to stir, catching your attention. You straightened in your seat as the Impala came to a halt in front of a large hospital complex. Sam’s stirring and whimpering was getting worse by the second.

Dean shook his brother. “Sam, wake up.”

He bolted straight up, confused, taking both you and Dean by surprise. After taking a second to catch his breath, he said, “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one,” Dean reminded him.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam’s faux optimism caused you to shake your head.

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.”

Apparently, Sam was choosing the latter. “Are we here?” he asked.

Dean was happy to drop the subject, too. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

The three of you began to approach the morgue wing of the hospital. You noticed Sam was holding the newspaper you’d circled Mr. Shoemaker’s death in. “So what do you think really happened to this guy?”

“That's what we're gonna find out. Ladies first,” you joked, holding the door to the first floor of the hospital open for the brothers.

After making your way through the labyrinth of hallways, you found the dimly lit and vacated morgue. In the large room were two desks. One was labeled with a nameplate for Dr. D. Feiklowicz with neatly stacked packets, files, and books atop it. The other was a chaotic mess of stray papers labeled “Morgue Technician.”

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah. We're the, uh, med students,” Dean responded.

“Sorry?” the morgue tech asked.

“Oh, Doctor—” Dean gave his best shot at the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He— uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The morgue tech was smug, snarky, and clearly lacked people skills.

‘No wonder they have him locked up down here,’ you thought.

Dean changed course. “Oh, well, he said, uh— oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't.” The morgue tech gave a tight-lipped smile. “Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then,” Dean tried. “Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—”

“Uh, look, man,” the technician mocked, “No.”

Dean laughed a little and turned around, mumbling. “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

You took the opportunity to try a different tactic. You leaned down on the morgue technician’s desk, doing your best to take advantage of the fact that he probably has had little contact with women. “Please?” you asked innocently. “These guys are my tutors. I’m really struggling in this class, and I just—” you bit your lip, “—I really need a good grade on this paper.” You used your arms to push your breasts together. “Please?”

You could tell you had him on the ropes. “Uh…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your cleavage. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I guess I could do that for you.”

You smiled innocently. “Thank you so much.”

He began leading the three of you into an attached room to where the bodies were stored for autopsies. You turned around and winked at the boys with a smug smile. Dean rolled his eyes.

The morgue technician pulled the rack Steven Shoemaker’s corpse rested on out from the wall of stainless steel cells.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding,” Sam said.

The technician pulled the sheet back from over Steven’s face. “More than that. They practically liquefied.” The poor man’s eye sockets were still bloody, and they hadn’t yet been sewn shut. You could see the dried blood peeking out from under his partially-closed eyes.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean suggested.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone,” the technician answered.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam asked.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.”

‘Nope, he’s way too young and in much too good health for that to have been the cause,’ you thought, but kept the thought at bay.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You didn’t like playing dumb, but with this guy, it was necessary.

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen,” the tech answered. Although, he was more responding to your boobs than to your face. You fought the urge to snap in front of his face and get his eyes back on target.

“The eyes?” Sam asked. “What would cause something like that?”

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims,” the morgue tech shrugged.

Dean’s tone was still aggravated with the guy. “Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?”

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.”

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.”

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” The technician looked back at you.

You suppressed the bile rising in your throat. Before you could do anything else, Dean stepped in front of you and pulled out his wallet. He shoved two twenties at him, hoping that would be enough. You could see the technician deflate, but accepted the money anyway.

Dean’s actions puzzled you. But you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t flutter at the thought of him doing it out of protectiveness of you.

When you had finished looking over the police report, the three of you began making your way out of the building.

“Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing,” Sam suggested after having seen the report.

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean replied.

“Uh, almost never.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright, let's go talk to the daughter.” Sam started picking up his pace out of the building. You were happy to see him getting his mind off Jessica and back into the job.

“Wait, Dean.” You grabbed his arm lightly before he could catch up to his brother.

He turned to face you.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?” He furrowed his brow.

“Give the morgue tech your hard-earned poker money,” you half-smiled.

“I just didn’t wanna watch you prostitute yourself for information,” he replied gruffly, turning away from you.

You took offense. “Hey, I was not—”

He turned back to you and brushed a hand over his hair. “You’re right, you werent.” He paused again, and his voice came back quiet. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you, ‘s all.”

Your heart swelled in your chest and your cheeks began to heat up. “Thanks, by the way,” you said as you continued walking. You nudged his shoulder with yours. “You’re going soft on me, Winchester.”

***

When you arrived at the Shoemaker house, you hadn’t expected to be in the midst of the funeral gathering. If you did, you would’ve dressed more appropriately. Given this fact, you felt slightly awkward when you knocked on the door. A man let you in and pointed you toward the backyard and the two daughters of Steven Shoemaker.

The two sisters were sitting with two blonde girls near the firepit. Dean addressed the older, dark-haired girl. “You must be Donna, right?”

“Yeah,” the girl responded.

“Hi, uh, we're really sorry,” Sam lamented.

“Thank you.”

“I'm Sam, this is Dean and (Y/N). We worked with your dad.”

The girl looked at her friend before looking back at your trio. “You did?” She seemed surprised.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke…” Sam trailed off.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now,” one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends spoke up.

“It's okay. I'm okay,” she assured her friend.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asked.

Donna shook her head. “No.”

The younger sister, who looked to be about twelve, turned around. “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

You were intrigued.

“Lily, don't say that,” her sister urged her.

“What do you mean?” you asked the young girl.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset,” her sister responded for her.

“No,” Lily wasn’t having it. “It happened because of me.”

Donna placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie, it didn't.”

You got down on Lily’s eye level. “Why would you say that?”

“Right before he died, I said it,” she said softly.

“Said what?”

She lowered her voice even more. “Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes, that's what she does.”

Donna interrupted. “That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.”

“I think your sister's right, Lily,” Dean broke in. “There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?”

Lily tried to take this in. She shook her head.

“Exactly,” you told her. “I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to upset you. We’ll just be leaving.” You pulled the boys away from Donna’s group and went back into the house. Making sure no one saw you three, you crept upstairs to the bathroom where Mr. Shoemaker passed away.

Sam pushed the door open, and you noticed some dried blood still on the floor. “The Bloody Mary legend. Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of,” Dean replied. He walked ahead of Sam into the bathroom.

Sam stooped to the floor and touched the dried blood. “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s fine everywhere else, but not here,” you suggested.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam tried.

You shrugged as Dean opened the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—” you stopped yourself and noticed your reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirror. “You know what is the one that dies. But here—”

“Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah,” Dean finished for you.

Sam rose from the floor. “Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out.”

You considered Dean’s words for a moment. “It's worth checking in to.” You went to leave the bathroom when you noticed one of Donna’s pretty blonde friends approaching you.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked.

“We— We had to go to the bathroom,” you answered, not believing yourself.

“Who are you?” the girl pressed further.

Dean stepped closer to you from behind. “Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.”

She shook her head with scrunched eyebrows. “He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.”

“No, I know, I meant—”

She cut Dean off. “And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.”

Sam put a hand up to calm her. “Alright, alright, we think something happened to Donna's dad.”

The blonde looked at you three like you were stupid. “Yeah, a stroke.”

“I don’t think so,” you argued. “He was pretty young to be having a stroke. His eyes wouldn’t have liquified if he’d had a stroke. I think it might be something else.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Like what?’

“Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth,” Sam responded.

“So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead,” Dean snarked.

“Who are you, cops?” she asked, her brows still furrowed.

“Something like that,” you shrugged.

“I'll tell you what. Here.” Sam took a piece of paper and a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his phone number down. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call.” He handed her the piece of paper before leading you and Dean down the hallway.

Your next stop was the public library.

“Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town,” Dean began. “There's gonna be some sort of proof— Like a local woman who died nasty.”

“Yeah, but this is hard. The legend is unbelievably widespread with hundreds of different versions of who she actually is,” you rebutted. “One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more.”

“Okay, then, so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asked you.

Sam answered. “Every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers, public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.”

“Well, that sounds annoying,” the older brother commented.

“No, it won't be so bad,” Sam replied, “As long as we…”

You cleared your throat, gesturing to the only two computers in the library that had “Out of Order” signs on them.

Sam chuckled humorlessly. “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

The three of you picked up boxes of the town’s newspapers and numerous books of Toledo’s public records and brought them back to Sam and Dean’s motel room.

You were beginning to go cross-eyed after reading for so long. Minutes turned into hours. Dean was sitting in a chair, you were sprawled across the floor with papers and books scattered around you, and Sam eventually fell asleep.

You stood up to stretch your legs and noticed his closed eyes. “Poor fella,” you said quietly. “How’s he been sleeping?”

“How d’you think?” Dean responded, eyes never leaving his book.

You nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Maybe we should get him to take something,” you suggested.

Dean chuckled. “He won’t do it.”

“Is it just because I’m suggesting it that you’re saying that, or do you really think he won’t take it?” you countered.

He gave you a deadpan expression.

“You Winchesters are just about the most stubborn people I’ve ever met in my life. Including your dad,” you jested. You heard Dean chuckle a little, too.

“And I wanted to tell you,” you started, “I understand why you’d suspect me in your dad’s disappearance.”

He looked away from his book and over at you. “What do you mean?”

“What you said back in Colorado? The Wendigo case? I get it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re still on that?”

“I mean, yeah, that was just about the most heated fight we’ve had. It kinda stuck with me,” you answered honestly, looking down at your stripey-sock-covered feet. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I understand.”

A moment passed silently.

“And I, um—” you took a deep breath, “I want you to trust me.” You looked back at Dean who was studying you carefully.

The tense moment was interrupted by Sam jolting awake in his bed. “Why'd you let me fall asleep?”

“Cause I'm an awesome brother.” Dean’s attention was back on his book. “So what did you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes,” the younger brother responded hazily while staring up at the ceiling.

You laughed humorlessly.

“Did you guys find anything?” Sam asked.

“Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean responded sarcastically. “No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror—”

“And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave—” you chimed in.

“But no Mary,” Dean finished for you.

“Maybe we just haven't found it yet,” Sam tried.

“I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know… eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary,” Dean said.

Sam’s phone rang just as his brother finished talking. “Hello?” A look of concern crossed his face. He was trying to calm whoever it was on the other end down.

You waited until he got off the phone to bombard him with questions. “What? What happened?”

“Charlie,” he told you. “Her friend’s dead.”

***

Charlie sobbed as she relayed the story of what happened to her friend Jill. “And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her— her eyes. They were gone.”

You had met her in a park not an hour after she had called Sam.

“I'm sorry,” the latter responded.

“And she said it,” Charlie told you. “I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?”

“No, you're not insane,” you said.

“Oh, god, that makes me feel so much worse.” You feared that might be the case.

Sam was honest with her. “Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained.”

“And we're gonna stop it,” Dean assured Charlie, “but we could use your help.”

You knew exactly where Dean was going with this. And thankfully, Charlie obliged. She snuck you and the boys into Jill’s room through the window. Dean and Sam gave you a boost into the second story room before throwing up Dean’s duffel bag.

“What did you tell Jill's mom?” you asked Charlie.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things,” she replied simply. “I hate lying to her.”

You heard someone closing the blinds and curtains behind you. “Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights,” Dean instructed her.

She obeyed but asked, “What are you guys looking for?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it,” the older brother responded.

Sam handed you a digital camera. “Hey, night vision!” You turned it on. You aimed the camera at Dean.

“Do I look like Paris Hilton?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing an amused smile. You walked over to Jill’s closet door and began filming the mirror on it.

“So I don't get it,” Sam began. “I mean, the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?”

You shrugged.

“Beats me,” Dean answered. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke,” Charlie replied.

“Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.”

You had made your way over to the bathroom and filmed around the mirror. You stopped when you noticed a trickle of something running from behind it. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” He came over to you.

“Look at this.” You showed him the substance oozing from behind the mirror.

Sam looked to his brother. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

While Dean left to get the light, you and Sam pulled the mirror off the wall. When Dean returned, you could see a handprint and the name “Gary Bryman” illuminated by the black light.

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie asked.

You looked up at her. “You know who that is?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You learned from Sam’s research and Charlie that Jill had killed Gary Bryman, an eight-year-old boy, in a hit and run accident. Dean then decided you needed to return to Donna’s house. When you pulled the medicine cabinet mirror off the wall, sure enough, there was another handprint and the name “Linda Shoemaker.” You learned from Donna that her mother had overdosed on sleeping pills. You had left Charlie at Donna’s house to comfort her friend after you and the boys had upset her with your questions about her mother’s death.

You then traveled to Fort Wayne, Indiana to investigate the death of a woman named Mary Worthington. She had died the same way these victims were; bleeding from the sockets where her eyes used to be. You spoke to the detective who was the lead on her case. He believed she spent her last moments trying to expose her killer she was having an affair with. She went as far as to start spelling out the name of her killer in her own blood on the back of her mirror. She only got to the third letter of her killer’s name before passing away. It made complete sense to you that her spirit would spend its time exposing the secrets of other murderers. Mary Worthington’s body had been cremated, but the mirror she wrote on had been returned to her family. Now, you and the boys were trying to track down where that mirror had ended up.

“Oh really?” Sam responded to the man on the phone. “Ah, that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror… Okay, well maybe next time… Alright, thanks.” He hung up.

“So?” you asked.

“So that was Mary's brother,” he informed you. “The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.”

Dean momentarily looked away from the road to his brother. “So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?”

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow,” Sam responded.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” you chimed in.

“Yeah, there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped.”

Dean connected the dots. “So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit.”

“Yeah, but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?” you challenged.

“I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.”

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe,” Sam sighed. His phone rang. “Hello?... Charlie?”

***

You and the boys picked up Charlie and brought her to the motel you were staying in. You and the Winchesters were busying yourselves with covering every reflective surface in Sam and Dean’s room with sheets, blankets, jackets; anything. Charlie’s gorgeous blonde hair was knotted and messy, her eyes were puffy from crying but remained closed, and her knees were drawn into her chest.

Sam sat on the bed next to Charlie. “Hey, hey, it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, alright?”

She looked up slowly.

“Now listen,” he began softly. “You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Charlie’s voice trembled.

“No. No. Not anytime soon,” the brunet assured her.

You sat on the floor in front of her and put a hand on her knee. “We need to know what happened, babe.”

“We were in the bathroom.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “Donna said it.”

“That's not what we're talking about,” Dean stated. There was something dark behind his tone. “Something happened, didn't it? In your life— .a secret— where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?”

The tears were flowing from her eyes now. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She pulled her knees back to her chest and buried her face between them.

You felt completely horrible for her. But there was no time for a therapy session because you and the boys were off to that Toledo antique store where Mary’s mirror was being kept.

Dean sped down the road despite the pouring rain which you deeply wanted to protest against. You remained silent anyway.

“You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.” Dean broke the silence.

“You know spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean. Charlie had a secret, somebody died, and that's good enough for Mary,” you told him.

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror,” Sam chimed in.

Dean turned his head to his brother. “Why, what do you mean?”

“Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.”

“Well, how do you know that's going to work?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “I don't; not for sure.”

“Well who's gonna summon her?” his brother’s tone got a little panicked.

“I will. She'll come after me,” Sam replied solemnly.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean pulled over to the side of the road. “This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night— it's gonna kill you. Now, listen to me, it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam’s voice cracked.

“Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done,” Dean responded sharply.

Sam tried to shake his emotion away. “I could've warned her.”

“About what? You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway,” Dean said.

“No you don't,” was all Sam could muster.

“I don't what?”

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.”

You had been trying to stay out of it, but couldn’t hold it back anymore. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?”

You and Dean were taken aback. “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Guys, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, clenched his jaw, and pulled back out onto the road. The air was heavy and tense in the car. You sat back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest. No one spoke for the rest of the drive.

When you reached the shop, you picked the lock on the door to reveal dozens of mirrors.

“Well, that's just great,” Dean grumbled. He pulled out the picture you’d gotten from the detective in Indiana of Mary’s body next to the mirror. “Alright, let's start looking.”

The three of you split up. You were an incredibly detail-oriented person, but even still, all of the mirrors seemed the same to you.

“Maybe they've already sold it,” Dean called from across the room.

Your flashlight came to rest on a mirror you could swear you’d seen before. “I don't think so. C’mere, Dean.”

He came over to you and held up the photo to the mirror. And sure enough, it was a match.

“You sure about this?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam nodded and handed you his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”

You whipped your head in the direction of a light coming through the store.

“I'll go check that out. Stay here, be careful,” Dean ordered. “Smash anything that moves.” He crawled away from you and you heard him distantly say, “Crap.”

You paid no mind to Dean as you tightened your grip on the crowbar.

You heard a whooshing sound behind you and wheeled around. In the mirror was Mary. You sprang to action and smashed your crowbar through the dead center of it.

You could hear a distorted version of Sam’s voice coming from behind you, but before you could aid him, your own reflection caught your attention. It wasn’t quite syncing with your movements; instead looking at you menacingly.

Before you could move to hit it, you felt an insane pressure coming from behind your eyes, your throat constricted, and blood began to ooze down your face.

“You can’t keep running, (Y/N),” your reflection told you. “How could you? How could you be so careless?”

The blood dripping from your eyes began to mix with your tears. You didn’t have enough breath to protest. You began to sink to the floor, the crowbar clanging to the ground.

“It’s your fault that they’re gone. Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you fight to keep them alive? Why did you have to kill them? Your guilt should eat you alive. You don’t deserve another family. You know you don’t deserve to be happy again. You know your recklessness will get these boys killed, too. You are so selfish! And your brother! If you hadn’t done what you did, he would still be alive, too. You are worthless. All you bring is death and—”

The pressure around your throat released when Dean’s crowbar went through the mirror. He barely spared you a second look before going over to his brother.

“Sam, Sammy!” you heard from behind you.

You clutched at your throat and began to cry. You knew Dean had turned cold once more because he heard what your reflection said.

Sam groaned in pain as you saw Dean shouldering his brother and pulling him toward the exit of the shop.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you.

You shakily stood and did your best to follow the brothers out. Your dizziness caused you to fall back down to the ground on top of shards of glass, making you yelp as they pierced your hands.

“Help her, Dean!” you heard Sam demand.

Dean came to your side, clearly in no hurry, and cradled you in his arms. Before he could get anymore than two steps, you noticed Mary crawling out of the frame of her original mirror. Her dark hair was matted and fell in front of her face. Her dress was tattered, and her limbs moved in an inhuman manner; cracking with every movement. You and Dean were sent flying across the floor toward Sam, and the bleeding of your eyes started again.

You looked to the mirror inches from your head. Despite your weakness, you forced yourself to grab it and turn its face toward Mary.

“You killed them!” you heard her reflection cry. “All those people! You killed them!” Mary started choking just as you had and then melted into a pool of blood on the ground. You threw the mirror you’d been holding and shattered it completely.

You dropped your head back to the floor.

“Hey Sam?” you heard Dean say.

“Yeah?”

“This has got to be like,what, six hundred years of bad luck?” the older brother joked.

Sam chuckled weakly. You couldn’t even muster up a laugh due to the bile rising in your throat. Memories were eating away at you, and the fact that Dean had heard your reflection was only adding to your anxiety. Your breath began to quicken, but you did your best to soothe yourself.

“(Y/N).” Sam drew you out of your trance. “Can you stand?”

You tried your best to, but couldn’t. Dean squatted down next to you. “C’mon.” He motioned for you to let him carry you. You complied. You looked up at his chiseled face. You swore he was handcrafted by the gods; perhaps Adonis himself. Your hazy mind couldn’t focus on anything aside from his beautiful green eyes. You had so much to say to him about what he’d heard. You knew he didn’t think highly of you, but your relationship had begun to get better. You didn’t want, well, you, to ruin it all now.

“Dean, I—” you started.

He cut you off. “We’ll talk later,” he said gruffly. Despite his cold and guarded tone, he put you down gently in the back of the Impala.

You ended up falling asleep in the back of the Impala. When you next awoke, you had been tucked into your bed in the motel. Your boots had been discarded, your jacket had been removed, and your key that you kept in your jacket pocket was now on the nightstand beside you. The gesture was sweet, but your mind immediately started reeling about the conversation you needed to have with Dean.

You checked the clock; it was ten in the morning. You were surprised how late you had slept, and figured the boys had dropped Charlie off; potentially had even left town without you. Your anxiety getting the best of you, you rushed over to their door. Dean opened it when you knocked.

“Hey,” you breathed.

“Hey,” he echoed.

“Can we talk?”

He nodded.

You led Dean back to your room. You sat cross-legged on your bed and Dean chose the chair across from you.

“Okay, um,” you sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Who’d you kill, (Y/N)?” came his straightforward and dry response. “Why did it say you’d get us killed, too?”

You looked down at the floor, the tears beginning to well up in your waterline. “I wanna tell you, I just—”

“Look at me.” His voice was firm.

You did.

“I need to know.”

You took a deep breath. “When I was eighteen, I was coming back home from one of my first solo hunts. My dad had sent me to take out a vampire nest on the edge of the town we were staying in. There were only three vamps there at the time. I got so excited that I had nuked them all, I didn’t account for the fact that all three of them seemed like newbies. I didn’t… register, I guess, that one or more was probably missing.” You averted his gaze, struggling to keep your voice level. “And so, I left. I went back to the house we were squatting in, and, um, one of them followed me.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, that’s not your—”

You shook your head. “It is. He turned them, Dean. He turned my mom and my dad. I— I had no choice. I had to—” Your sentence was cut off by a sob, but Dean understood what you meant. You wiped a hand over your face and did your best to continue your story. “I sat with their bodies for a long time after. When my brother came back and saw what I’d done, he drew his gun on me. He, um, he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t let me explain. He couldn’t shoot me, though. He… He just… left. And then— And then, his best friend called me a few days later.” The tears came back. “He found my brother’s car.” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “And he was dead in it.” Broken sobs wracked your body once again. “It’s my fault that they’re gone, Dean, it’s my fault.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him. You knew how disgusted he must be with you. And then, you felt the bed dip beside you. Then, a hand on your arm. Then, he pulled you to his chest, and you melted into his embrace. Your cries still shook your body, but Dean’s strong arms held you together. He sat with you like that for a long time.

You and the boys had decided to leave Toledo sooner rather than later after Sam told you what Dean had done to the cops in front of the antique store. Long after leaving Toledo, Dean broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the car.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.”

The younger Winchester sighed. “Look, you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.”

Your eyes remained trained on Sam as he looked out the window at something you were passing by. His expression went from confused to scared to saddened, and you knew he was seeing Jessica. After all, you had no doubt your face mirrored his every time you saw your mom standing on a street corner or your dad’s bloodied body lying in your footpath. In time, you knew he would learn to live with it just as you had.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

280 notes · View notes

zablife · 7 months

Text

Now You Know the Truth (Part 6)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Your plot for revenge against Tommy begins to take shape, but he becomes suspicious.

Author's Note: I intended this to be the last part, but there will be at least one more. Oops 🙈 Side note, Polly died of tuberculosis in my AU.

Warnings: language, medical discussions, gaslighting, mention of pregnancy

Part 5

You talked for what felt like hours with little more than a nod from the man in the white coat sitting across from you. Finally you stopped to inhale deeply, before asking, “Well? Do you understand what it is I need from you?”

“I do,” he nodded quickly, sitting forward to rest his elbows upon his desk. He broke eye contact as he stared out the window of his office, fingers laced tightly and brow etched with concern.

His speech came haltingly, aware of your position, but more keenly, that of your husband. “I understand your predicament, Mrs. Shelby, but I can’t say I agree with this…method,” he attempted not to offend you. “The falsification of medical records, lying to a patient simply to confine him in hospital…it’s…it’s unethical,” he stressed the last word with such distaste your rage bubbled to the surface before you could contain it.

“Unethical?” you scoffed. “What of the months I spent in the care of your nurses and doctors for nervous disorders and fainting spells fabricated by my husband when I couldn’t remember anything about myself? And when you released me, you gave him medication to sedate me at will. Where was your sense of morality then?”

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from trembling, but managed to hold the doctor’s gaze firmly. As you did so, you noticed his eyes widen, realizing the harm caused by his miscalculations in judgment.

Clearing his throat of the lump that had formed he began, “Your husband was quite convincing and I wasn’t aware of his intentions to confine you in such a way." He searched your eyes, hoping for forgiveness as he apologized as sincerely as possible. "I am truly sorry for your pain and anguish," he added, lowering his gaze shamefully. Taking another moment to sit with his thoughts he finally leaned across his desk to confide in you.

He glanced toward the door to be certain no one was approaching before adopting a low, conspiratorial tone. Then he advised, “I may be able to assist you. If your husband has these fits, as you say, a case could be made to persuade the layperson.”

You nodded in silent agreement, afraid to give yourself over to hope too quickly. “Please go on, what happens next?” you ventured breathlessly.

———————

“How was the appointment at the hospital, darling? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Tommy apologized as he helped you remove your fur coat.

Turning to him with a tight smile you replied, “The baby’s heartbeat is strong.”

Tommy beamed with pride as he pulled you toward him for an embrace, but the large manilla envelope between you stopped him.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyes darting up to yours suspiciously.

“As I was leaving I saw Dr. Holford and he asked me to give you this,” you informed him as you proffered the envelope carefully. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath, waiting for Tommy to take the baited trap, until he whisked it from your fingers moments later. The air seemed to leave your lungs in one great breath as he strode away from you into his office.

Standing alone in the hallway you found yourself unable to move when you suddenly heard a crash. Rushing toward the noise, you surveyed the damage of the broken carafe lying in pieces and Tommy leaning over his desk, rubbing his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” you asked sweetly.

“I told the girl to refill the whisky this morning. It’s still empty,” he muttered through clenched jaw.

“Frances will see to it. I meant the envelope,” you gestured where the contents had been scattered.

Clutching a letter in his hand, Tommy turned toward you slowly as he accused, “What do you know about this?”

You gulped as you watched his eyes darken, head tilting as he scanned your face in painstaking detail.

Heartbeat thundering in your chest, you swayed slightly in your heels from fear and exhaustion. Playing to his recent sympathy for the well-being of your child, you asked permission to sit, stalling for time.

Tommy nodded, pulling out a chair, but waited by your side.

“The doctor told me it was urgent…something to do with an x-ray they took from when Polly was ill,” you spoke the lines you’d rehearsed in the car as best you could with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the back of your neck.

Tommy scoffed. “After all this time, now they tell me?” His hand tightened around the back of your chair, causing the wood to crack beneath the pressure and you winced to yourself, wondering if his fingers might creep toward your throat next. He emitted a long, low sigh as he confessed, “Tuberculoma…what the fuck is that?”

As he hovered over you, he pulled an x-ray from the pile of documents and held it to the light for you. “I don’t see anything, do you?” he asked with irritation, shaking it a bit too harshly to straighten it when it folded in on itself.

“I’m not a doctor, Tom,” you demurred, worried his stubbornness would cause the entire plan to fail. Resting your head in your hand you wondered, Why did I believe this could work? But you had to try so you added gently, “Invite him here so he can explain it properly.”

Striding away from you suddenly, Tommy rounded his desk to pick up the phone. As he waited for the operator to connect the call he promised, “We’re all going to have a chat very soon.”

Part 7

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@lovemissyhoneybee

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@look-at-the-soul

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@ladespedidas

@cillmequick

@moonshooter

@mrs-bellingham

@allie131313

@runnning-outof-time

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@babaohhhriley

@garrison-girl-08

@embystarr-blog

@brummiereader

@call-sign-shark

@writeroutoftime

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts

@skydisneylover

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@cece45450

@julesandro

@stevie75

@mrsnbradshaw2023

@scarlet-sunflowers

@galactict3a

@sagecodm

@pono-pura-vida

@lets-pringless

@ladyzee27

@jaymcdowell

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peaky-as-a-peach

@justrainandcoffee

@reader-hes

@wisteriaandwafers

@cycbaby

@trixie23

@thenattitude

@happyadventurer77

@perseny

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby x reader #dark!Tommy Shelby

193 notes · View notes

neopuppy · 2 years

Text

Sleep Therapy (M)

Pairing. demon Jaemin x femaler reader

Genre. That Boys Is A Monster AU, life after Be There For You, explicit smut, M/F, dark fic

Warnings. heavy dubcon/noncon elements(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m serious. thanks.), somnophilia, breeding, rough and unprotected sex, impreg kink, demon lore, camera use, praise, degradation, obsessive behavior

WC. 6.6(6)k

Now Playing. Slept So Long/Jay Gordon

‘Just wanted to watch you sleep. Wanted to be part of your dreams.’

It’s been hours.

It’s been days.

It’s been weeks.

Herbal teas, over the counter Melatonin, even prescribed sleep medication that could knock out a small child for days scattered your living room table; piled up only to mock you.

Useless, all of it completely useless as you enter another night of restless sleep.

Debilitated by lack of rest has forced you to take a sabbatical from work, per the suggestion of your regular physician. One week at the hospital under careful watch had you in tears every morning, pleading for something to help you. Anything.

It was more than the bags formed under your eyes. Hallucinations had become a reoccurring issue the longer you walked around like a living dead girl, unclear visions of men transforming into monsters; nightmares turned into reality.

“A sleep clinic might be our last hope,” your physician shrugs, having only reached this point with you after insisting you must be exaggerating. “I’ve contacted Dr. Na at the Vision Clinic, he’s the best Somnologist in the district. You should be in great hands.”

Great hands.

Great hands that led up to built up arms confined in a lab coat. Broad shoulders and a warm handsome smile that seems too blinding to even stare at for much long.

Dr. Na floats around his desk to greet you, light as a feather with the most calm of demeanors.

He smells lovely, soothing in a way similar to a hot stove warming up holiday cookies. Nothing too strong, but just enough to pick up a whiff of as he embraces your hand in greeting.

“My new patient.” He speaks with sparkling pearly white teeth on display. Every inch of him is a reminder of how wealthy Doctors are, from the silver Rolex watch adorning his wrist down to his freshly shined designer shoes.

He manages to maintain warmth in his gaze despite the obvious differences between the two of you.

Greasy hair, flesh empty of life and sweats you’ve turned into daily wear paired with fluffy Ugg slippers stand before him on your meek frame. Shyly nodding when he double checks how to pronounce your name and directs you to sit.

Dr. Na seemed too young to be a seasoned professional in this field. He couldn’t be much older than his mid-twenties. Albeit difficult to truly take him in full admiration as he sits against the ledge of the large crimson wooden oak desk placed in the center of his office. He takes time to run through your chart again, repeating the things you’ve heard for months now. No prior health issues or concerning conditions, a proper diet and lifestyle, nothing that could conclude how you’d end up here.

“How’s your caffeine intake?” Dr. Na asks with a charming lift at the corners of his mouth.

“Haven’t had any in two months now.”

“There are many causes behind insomnia.” Dr. Na nods, scribbling notes down while explaining. “I’ll schedule an MRI scan for later today to conduce if this could be connected to a chemical imbalance.”

“Chemical imbalance?”

“Emotional stress, perhaps trauma, lifestyle changes.” He smiles, akin to the way a Kindergarten teacher may when speaking to a naive child. “We will figure it out.”

Scribbling a few more notes, Dr. Na rips out a section of paper instructing you to head down to the cafeteria designated for patients to eat a proper meal. “I’ll be sending out the order for new medication to try. When it arrives at your room please make sure to follow the nurses directions and take them all. I will come by to check on you as soon as I have an open window of time.”

Dr. Na shifts to stand, the full size of him shadowed above your frail exhausted frame. “We’ll see how your nightmares play out this evening, once I can look through your MRI scan results we can move on to other options, such as hypnosis.”

“Hypnosis?” Even your speech comes out in a lazy drawl. Tongue heavy and dry, dizzy on your feet when you get up to head down. Already aware that you wouldn’t be eating much, even lifting a fork to your lips drained you.

“Of course, it’s one of my specialties.” He chuckles. “Might sound silly but I have a real knack for mind control, you’d be surprised how easy it is to dominate the human mind. It’s easier than training an animal.”

If it wasn’t for the speckled white dots infiltrating your vision, you might’ve noticed the slight change in Dr. Na’s expression. The flicker of black consuming his iris, the drag of his tongue across his upper row of teeth, and the amused hum passing through his throat as he takes in your appearance up close.

It’s been hours.

It’s been days.

It’s been weeks.

It’s been longer than that, months of watching you come in and out of your apartment. Endless days of parking far enough across from you to fly under your radar.

There was no rush, until there was.

Suddenly you had a companion walking you to your car after work, you had a reason to shop for pretty dresses, you sprayed more perfume on and smiled to yourself when opening up notifications on your phone.

Suddenly you felt further away, distracted by him. The stupid new much too friendly Economics professor who had found a way to stayed plastered to your side.

It’s too late anyway.

The sound of Jaemin’s knuckles cracked, echoing loud enough to lift your head with a glance around the coffee shop you frequented. He stayed leaned back in a corner less lit up, less noticeable, especially to someone as oblivious as you.

Someone so carefree and innocent, someone who didn’t even bother to make sure to grab the right drink from the counter when the barista called out your name. It was too easy to blindside you, drop a concoction of sleep medication in your cup as he picked up a quad shot Americano sitting near your milky vanilla latte.

Sip after sip had you yawning despite the powerful caffeine. Time and time again your usual morning pick-me-up failed you, to the point that you argued with the baristas about changing ingredients and formula.

It was too late.

Half asleep and drowsy, your key prodded at your front door in frustration, collapsing against it with your eyes shut and a crushed sigh.

The trap had been laid out, more out of enjoying the breakdown of watching you suffer and lose interests in everything the more you stayed awake night after night.

It made him laugh, entertained pulling on invisible puppet strings where he watched from down the hall as you crumbled to your knees, whining desperately for the key to unlock your apartment.

Weak, a perfect victim.

Jaemin had spent time finding you, it hadn’t been easy. Escaping hell never is afterall, bargains had to be made.

A vessel for his spawn, a strong healthy human vessel that could survive demonic childbirth. That was Johnny’s demands.

‘More than 1, I expect you to bring back many.’

You’d only be the first of the batch, the first to carry his lineage, the first to take his seed and hand over every bit of strength your little body had left in it after he finished.

and you’re perfect, immaculate in every way to carry his first child. The epitome of woman from the inside out. The sole purpose of your existence to be bred full, nothing but a hole to fuck.

Jaemin can’t deny the sick pleasure he gets just from watching you nearly pass out at your front door. A bump on your head the next day would be the only hint of what possibly took place. The bulky arms cradling your limp figure to bed would feel like a faded memory, the sound of your door being kicked shut, nothing more than a foreign thought, a distorted picture of a man hovering above you stripping off your clothing to settle you into your bed more of a nightmare than a dream.

Demons don’t have hearts, they don’t feel, they don’t care.

But you’d always be the first.

You’d always be special in comparison to the rest. The first kill of the hunt, the first prey to fall victim, the conquest alone would be more monumental than any of the rest. You’d be his favorite memory, the one he chose first.

Hunger and ache to destroy mattered more, and as his thick fingers dragged down your stomach, following the path of breaths lifting your ribs higher and lower, he salivates. He swallows at a dry itch at the bottom of his throat, fingers crushing your waist to dip in harder.

“Sleep tight princess.” He always spoke to you, a mere muffled sound in your mind.

Muffled sounds, staggered breaths, heavy weight suppressing your lungs and throat. Pain and fear, a dark sensation followed whenever the recollection of thoughts swarmed around.

It could be after a shower, brushing through your hair, applying lotion, dressing for work. The shadowed memory of something you can’t prove ever happened lingers.

Not even the pain in your lower back, the soreness between your thighs or marks blooming across your skin make any sense. Every idea or thought only seemed less plausible. No sign of break in, no clue to indicate intrusion to your home.

The thought of a demon stalking you day and night would never cross your mind.

Demons aren’t real.

Religion had never been an interest for you, your family hadn’t pushed any beliefs to follow. Most of what you’d learn about religious mythology stemmed from horror films, and demons just seemed like such an outlandish idea. A joke.

Why would you ever assume the doctor assigned to solve your problems could be the root of them.

Jaemin watches you sleep for the hundredth time, removing the crisp white lab coat to hang on a hook. He sits near the special bed for out-patients, away from the noise of machines and heart monitors. It’s quiet, peaceful and calm even as you sweat, breathe heavily and twist to hide your face.

Ruined. Mind deteriorated by dark evil, by happenings you have no control over.

It’s not the first time he’s visited your slumbering figure, your bare skin more ingrained in his mind than your clothed one.

The doors locked, nurses working the night shift too busy with sick patients to check on someone knocked out with sleep disorder.

Upon Dr. Na’s instructions no one should come by. As he undoes the buttons of his smooth ironed shirt he grins to himself. A camera’s set up in the room to capture your sleep schedule, how often you wake, if you sleep at all.

The dosage of medication you consumed tonight would be enough to tranquilize even a large dog. There’s no way you’d wake up tonight.

He didn’t want you to remember tonight, as much as the thought of your eyes fluttering open letting out a shrill scream when you see the visual above you made his cock twitch. A tingle burned from the bottom of his spine to his throat. It’d be fun to have you half-lucid, shouting and begging for him to stop.

But it’s more appealing to watch your arm flop limp at your side. Entertained by the way you seem uncomfortable even as you sleep.

Special.

Jaemin thinks about it, pushing the hospital gown up past your waist. He sucks at saliva filling his cheeks taking in the cute pair of light rosey toned panties hiding your center. You’re not even wet, yet, not that he cares. His cock only hardens thinking about it, smoothing down the expanse of your inner thighs. You’ll struggle more to take his size, cry and curl in to get away. Grip at the sheets by your head for some semblance, for anything to ground you and focus your pain elsewhere.

It’s not the first time he’s slowly tugged off your underwear. It’s not the first time he’s stretched your thighs open as far as they’re willing to go. The small scrunch in your nose informing him the pull hurts your hips, it aches up to your groin.

This is good, Jaemin thinks, this is good because he wants you to remember this. He wants you to know you’ve been claimed, fucked by something devilish and unholy. Touched and destroyed by sin in its human form. He wants you to see how well you take it, how your pilant body still manages to jerk and roll up seeking more of his length to dig deeper inside of you.

Tossing your underwear aside, he pauses to blink at the red light flashing on the camera. Recording everything he’s about to do.

He’s waited, waited so long that his cock twitches fiercely against his thigh at the visual of your exposed cunt.

Jaemin wants to take his time, savor the natural scent flowing from your middle. Drag his fingers aimlessly between your folds until you slicken up obscenely, bite every inch of skin, slap and knead handfuls of meaty flesh in a rough manner. Turn you on your stomach to force your ass up in his face, push your pussy folds open just to watch your hole plead. Empty. Begging for a fucking demon to fuck you even if it hurts, even if you don’t actually want it.

He wants to take his time, but he can’t. It’s been months of pulling out, jerking off on your pretty face, cooing and mewling above your cum splattered stomach. Smearing the warm arousal up your chest dreaming of the day he pours load after load inside of you.

and it’s time, it’s time to ruin you for good. Force your unconscious body to take and take.

One hand delicately tugs and strokes himself, hissing as he jerks away from his thumb rubbing across the head. Precum gathered there smearing around the tip, coating it in a thin layer of sticky gloss. His other hand works away the gown hiding your full breasts, ripping off the flimsy garment easily. Easy access to strip a patient, easier access to have you bare and ready for him.

His breath staggers, gliding the pads of his fingers down your chest. Your sternum rising and falling as a human should, because you’re full of life, full of emotions and feelings he could never understand anymore.

The connection to his human self evaded his memory years ago. Void of the life he once had, lifeless, mindless and consumed by nothing but the desire to create pain. To watch a stupid human like you in agony.

A stupid, stupid, pretty little human. Nothing more than a warm blood filled fleshlight to fuck.

Jaemin lets out a chuckle, dropping his neck back to stroke himself above your stomach. Slapping down the middle of your abdomen a few times just to watch your skin tremble beneath, just to picture how far deep inside of you he can reach. With your hips pushed up and expanded, he knows you’ll birth a child for him easily. A new spawn to create a powerful army in hell. The first of his bloodline to lead and carry on the fight for evil.

He knows you’ll make it through, because he won’t give you a choice.

Rubbing the head of his cock up from where your stomach dips to your navel, he almost wishes you’d wake up. Your weak arms would push up, slap his chest, punch his arms, burst into tears with protests.

That will come, in time.

In the meantime, he prods your belly button, smirking at the thought of fucking you there too. Fucking every hole on you just for fun, because who fucking cares what the king of hell demanded. Jaemin’s going to fuck you until only his needs are met and fulfilled.

The thought races through him spine to balls, hunching forward as he shifts on his knees. The bed dipping and creaking under his weight, switching to rub the tip on your clit.

Still dry.

Dry but warm. Warm enough to be incinerated by the jagged rub of his size passing between your folds. It’s dry, but it’s fucking good, just to feel your fleshy folds struggle along his veiny stiff rod. Just to feel your skin pucker against the sticky pre-cum coating areas of his shaft.

He grunts, rubbing his cock against the plush feel of your parted pussy folds, sneaking quick glimpses of your hole— so tight and closed up. Too tight to take his size without it hurting, without ruining your pussy to only take his cock.

He’s way too big, and he knows it. He knows it from the amount of times he's played with you, just swiping against your cunt. Teasing himself to the point of mind-numbing overstimulation by putting in just the tip. Whimpering even in your sleep from the push ripping you open.

Sucking at the drool lining his bottom lip, he staggers for a minute, pushing side to side against your pussy. Lazily drawing his eyelids up to take in your angelic face once more, so much purity and tenderness. All of it soon to be his.

The slumber you’ve drifted off into isn’t peaceful in the least. It’s hot, weighing down on your chest, an itch passing through your nerves. Running through endless hallways filled with doors leading to nothing, nothing but black emptiness.

It’s been Jaemin all along, smoothing your hair away from your face. Snaking his lips over your body layering patterns of kisses. Jerking off for hours on your face, chest, stomach, anywhere he felt like.

He thinks about it again, nudging in not even half of the tip against your resistant entrance. A rubber band-like snap pinches around the width of his size. The skin sucking around him already appears damaged, further arousing him to inflict pain upon you, to make it hurt. Make it hurt knowing you have no choice but to take it and enjoy it against your will.

Groping your jaw with one thick hand, he turns your restless passed out face to watch him; easy to picture your eyes shooting up full of red vessels and tears. It burns from his chest to his lower back, swiveling his hips to push in the rest of the tip of his length. The bulbous mushroom shaped cap suffocates inside of you. Dry and tight as fuck, he thinks fervently, hissing between his teeth shining under the dim light as his lips part in moan.

It’s more than good just to feel you choke around the tip, your mouth falling open with a staggered breath allowing him to pinch and roll your plump bottom lip between his fingers.

Jaemin pauses, once more absorbing just how lifeless and limp you lay spread open. Part of him craves for you to wake, to stare up in shock paralyzed by fear, to be able to relive the torture he’s prepared to demonstrate. To enjoy it, because you’re actually nothing but a filthy slut; his own little human fuck doll.

It’s time. It’s finally time.

Saliva drenched digits drag down your chin, the center of your throat, dipping between your exposed breasts. Hardened pebbled nipples peak upward, more stiff from the chilled air circulating the room than excitement. You’re too unaware to feel aroused or anxious, too lucid, lost in the nightmare grappling you through hell.

Even if you were to wake up, Jaemin would only fuck you harder, tackle you down to take, take, take.

A shot of exhilaration curls through his gut, tugging his spine toward his navel as he hunches closer with one hand planted by your head to stay propped up. Jaemin’s gaze locks on your core, a pussy made just for him, because it doesn’t matter who fucked you before. He’d be the last.

The slow drag out of you draws an anguished sounds from the back of his throat. He needs to see you one more time, one more time before he claims and makes you useless for anyone else.

With a fist wrapped around his length, his other hand palms your cunt, shoving your swelling slit open to see the full visual of your hole. So empty, tiny, like a fucking virgin.

It really makes his head spin for a minute, rubbing the pad of his finger in a circular motion over your entrance. The airy gurgle that escapes your lungs shoots his eyes wide, focused on your face burying into a pillow. He tugs on himself a few more times, mindlessly rolling two digits over the precum that won’t stop leaking. He needs to fuck you, now.

Stifling a grunt, Jaemin shifts an inch closer, wrapping a thick bicep under your thigh to spread you open more. The head of his cock swipes between your core, slapping down heavy. Heavy and loud despite the lack of wet to clash against. Wedged up as close as possible between your thighs, and Jaemin has to grit his teeth to contain a growl. Pushing his hips forward to rub the underside of his cock against your clit, he wants to let out a throaty cry; a muted sound of pain when he feels it.

You’re clenching around nothing, seeking something.. someone to fuck you. Unaware of what your body is even asking him to do. Each drag spurs your hole to clamp down more, the first push of wetness spewing out smears against his balls. His throat tightens up swiping between you again, the tip teasing and brushing against your entrance without entering.

Jaemin’s nostrils suck in, inhaling a deep breath as he watches his cock bounce off your fleshy folds in slow-like-motion. Nasty, so nasty and raw, wet for anyone like the textbook definition of a fucking whore.

The next stroke along his cock glides easily, wet from your dripping pussy, wet because your body wants him whether you’re awake or not. He doesn’t care, but he knows it, he knows from the way you stare. The dreams you have of him not even under his influence.

Pressing at your hole again has him drooling, laving at the innerwalls of his mouth to collect the saliva that won’t stop from pouring.

“Fuck.” Jaemin finally grunts, biting down on his teeth as he sinks inside of you. It’s wet and tighter than he could have ever imagined. The hand wrapped around himself hardly comparable after many nights spent jerking off on your backside.

A smooth thrust fills you up eagerly, a perfect fit making it too hard to hold back from cramming into you balls deep.

Jaemin stills for a minute, long eyelashes fan on the tops of his cheeks. Swallowing harsh enough for his Adam's apple to visibly bob up and down the length of his dipped back neck. “So fucking good, just like I knew you would be.”

Palms scramble along the sides of your thighs, grinding forward to watch your mouth fall open again. A silent cry he wants to hear echo through the room simply not enough. Reaching for your waist, Jaemin pins your upper half to the bed, wiggling his hips to keep your thighs around his sides.

“Wet like a whore.” Jaemin snickers, clicking his tongue along the backs of his teeth. The painful circle of his hips fills the room with gasped whines, grinning to himself because you’re enjoying it. You like getting fucked, even in your sleep. He could care less with the sole mission to breed you full of cum consuming his head. He thrusts finally, the head of his size catching on your hole earning a louder moan.

The warmth gripping his dick feels mind-numbing, the most he’s felt in months since hunting you down, and his pace alters immediately as the feeling finally gets to him. You’re his for the taking, his and only his.

“Mine.” Jaemin mutters to himself, ruthlessly thrusting back into you in a jerky motion. It’d be painful if you were awake, his pace alternating from meticulously deep rolls of his hips to sloppy, aggressive and messy. The sound of wetness more overbearing than the clap of your skin colliding.

He’s frantic, knowing he can fuck you like his as long as he pleases, and you can’t do anything about it.

Jaemin’s thick arms bracket your head, nose hovered above your lips. Moan after moan sounding more excruciating than the last. Fucking into your tight cunt like a man who just discovered the glory of a fleshlight, reckless abandonment. The ache against your groin and thighs one guaranteed to last for weeks to come.

“So fucking good for me angel.” Jaemin praises, head thrown back when you clench around him. It makes him laugh like a maniac, amused by the idea of you listening, hearing everything he says. Dropping his face to your throat, he licks up your jaw to your earlobe, nibbling before he whispers. “Pretty baby loves getting fucked like a slut.”

A sigh sings from your lips, the prettiest sigh he’s ever heard. A sigh that runs in circles throughout his mind, turning to drop his cheek against yours with wide eyes focused on shut ones. The heavy weight of your eyelids taunting him, pushing him to fuck harder for just a glimpse of your hidden iris.

He could cum off that alone, and it punches through him with the next thrust, burying his thick fat length as deep inside of you as he can. Surely deep enough to rip through your insides, the weight of his heavy cock poking between your pressed together stomachs with each pointed thrust.

Jaemin’s obsessed with the grip your pussy gives, needing to feel you lock you and struggle to take him through your unwanted pleasure once more. Snaking his hand between your connected lower halves, he roughly rubs at your engorged clit, fat between his fingers from neglect. The need to cum more prevalent for the both of you than he cares about, but it feels too good to force his size past your shrunken entrance.

“You’re so fucking good for me. You don’t even know.” Jaemin babbles to himself, nose digging into your cheekbone to quiet the groan ripping through his chest. The sound of your wetness fills the room up in the most obscene way, splashing against his thighs and stomach with each impactful land of his hips.

“Ah—fuck!” A string of curses soars free, jostling you up the hospital bed that struggles to stay in place as he fucks you at a near inhumane pace. The whites of your eyes gleam with his next thrust, rolled back from the powerful hit that arches your back involuntarily.

“Fuck you all night, gonna fuck you everyday.”

Jaemin cries out, ripping a chunk of your hair with a balled up fist to unveil the column of your throat, biting down as the coiling heat in his gut becomes too overwhelming.

And he cums, screaming with his teeth dug into your skin. Bits of flesh scraped off by his sharp canine teeth, but still not enough to wake you, even as you let out a weak moan intensely squirting release around his size.

It’s almost too hard to stay put inside of you, having to realign his weight to keep his cock in despite the wet arousal bursting trying to shove him out.

It’s more desperate than he wanted, to fuck you like he owns you, because he does now. You’re his from inside out now. You’ll always be his.

Jaemin’s flopping down to his stomach, pushing your pussy folds open to ensure every drop of cum disappears. He has to fight back the urge to lean in, slurp of the slick wet coating your labia to watch your hole convulse, twitch and swallow down the white mess of cum passing through.

“We always have tomorrow to keep trying.” He grins wolfishly, throwing your gown back on without a care. “and the day after that.”

The camera shuts off, near the end of it’s battery life, and he thinks the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Scooting back toward your heaving figure, he leisurely trails up one of your thighs, playfully pushing them apart to memorize how damaged he’s left you. A fat wad of cum bubbles deep in your stretched out hole, gaped around nothing, sore and painful looking.

When morning comes you’ll wonder again why your body hurts so much. You’ll cry miserably, losing your patience, ready to end your battle, ready to give up. That’s what Jaemin wants anyway.

“Goodnight angel.”

It’s been over a week now of staying at the clinic, and you feel worse than when you arrived.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a good nights sleep?”

The questions rhetorical, not that you’d be able to decipher the true meaning behind your doctors words.

Between nightmares altering reality and mixing up different prescribed medications, you no longer had a grasp on time. Nothing felt real anymore, even the metal table before you reflecting your exhausted lifeless appearance felt like some horrific illusion.

“I can’t remember.”

Dr. Na leans closer to you with his elbows propped on the table to perch his chin in his hands. A soft yet devious smile painted on his lips as he watches you lose your fight.

“I’ll show you what you have forgotten.”

Dr. Na could say anything to you at this point really. Beyond the horrific visions taking over your brain, your body felt like it was breaking down on you. Every muscle sore, even your bones ached, new marks of bruising appeared everyday.

“I believe, I’ve figured out what’s keeping you awake.” The doctor says, turning to a rolly table at his side. Click clacks of typing sounds throughout the empty room, clearing his throat as he turns a black screen to face you.

“You have?”

Dr. Na stands, he smooths back a bang piece of hair that's fallen loose. The lab coat fitting his frame perfectly begins to slip from his wide shoulders and he removes it without breaking eye contact.

“You see, you’re a special case to me.” He continues, rounding the table to stand behind where you sit with his heavy palms weighing down on your slumped shoulders. “I’ve invested so much time and energy into you.”

Dr. Na’s lips pout behind you, gathering your hair off to one side to tickle down the side of your marked up throat. Marks left behind from his ruthless grip choking away your breath while he fucked you harder and deeper without anything or anyone to restrain him.

“In return, I need you to listen.”

“Doctor?” He could be speaking a foreign language as far as you’re concerned. Tilting your chin to the side to look up at him, your forehead wrinkles confused, met with the always handsome comforting face. Big doe eyes that round in a precious way that makes you feel as if everything will be ok.

“Shh shh” pinching your chin, Dr. Na turns you to face the screen, leaning the weight of his chest against the back of your head as he reaches over. Fingers click down, a video of your sleeping figure taking over the laptop screen.

“Did I do something in my sleep?” You wonder, watching as you struggle to stay still. Your feet kick the more you turn side to side, it’s uncomfortable to see yourself in distress.

“Not quite, angel.” Dr. Na huffs, continuing to push his chest closer to you. He has you hunched in closer, face lit up by the screen. Surprised as the doctor appears, and bright red eyes flash in the direction of the camera. A glitch because of the dim-lighting, you decide. “But I did.”

It’s shocking, disgusting, and humiliating to see what happens next. The choked gasp that pours from your mouth trapped by a large hand slapping down on your lips.

“You see, I chose you sweetie.” Dr. Na’s tone falls an octave, the sugary sweetness behind his words disappearing. “This whole time, I molded you, prepared you for this.”

He nods, pushing his other hand down to grip and hold your stomach. “To carry my future child, to birth my spawn.”

Screams go muffled beneath the palm splayed over your mouth, shoved up with an arm belted around your waist to bend over on the table. Dr. Na rips at the hospital gown covering your backside, arching your neck with his powerful hold on your face to force you to continue watching him take advantage and use your body.

“I said shush!” He sounds more demonic now, displaying an inhuman strength as he shreds off your underwear. The chill air floating through the room smacks your core quickly sending your knees to clink together. Fearful as you watch the man on screen rip you open from the inside. “Almost liked you better asleep.”

He has the audacity to laugh when tears trickle down his fingers, kicking your thighs open with a knee as he plants against your bent body. The cool table melting against your heated flesh with his hips smacking into your bottom. Three fingers shove into your mouth as you attempt to scream for help, someone, anyone to hear you and stop what happens next.

“You see,” fingers drag up the backs of your thighs, gripping roughly where they land on your ass to spread you apart. Sucking in air between his teeth at the sight of your ruined hole, swollen and painfully stretched from the amount of times he’s fucked you through the night now. “You’re perfectly healthy, couldn’t be better. A little stupid, but you’re human afterall.”

He doesn’t explain more than that, thrusting his fingers deeper into your mouth to quiet the coughs and cries spilling out of you. The sound of a zipper opening has you weakly attempting to thrash back, fight him off.

He’s too big, he’s too strong, too powerful to kick away.

The first touch of his bare skin shoots your eyes open, crying out as his girth lands against your core.

He’s too big. He’s too fucking big, and he’ll break you.

Pleads fall empty trying to pray for mercy, his cock only leaking out more spurts of precum as a murmured ‘please God’ sounds.

“God can’t help you now, sweet little angel.” He sneers, rubbing the length of his size between your folds just as he begins to on the screen. The hold on your jaw forces you to watch each action, to watch the way he manipulates your body to do as he pleases.

“Don’t want it princess?” He grunts shakily, growling in his chest because you’re already wet. So fucking nasty, hot and wet between your thighs, canting back to meet his cock ramming against your meaty folds. “But look at how much you loved it.”

He shakes your head in a mocking manner, much like a child being punished for uttering a bad word. The screen too blurry behind your tears, but the image is clear enough to see your doctor take advantage of you in your most innocent helpless state.

“Please, please doctor…please.”

The sound of his tongue clicking in dismay echoes like a jeer, circling your entrance with the tip the more you plead. “Jaemin. Enough of this bullshit doctor act.”

Nothing he says to you makes sense anymore, incapacitated by his weight crushing your feeble body to the table. Deeming your pussy wet enough, he scoots forward to sandwich past your clamped thighs, kicking a foot roughly between your knees for more leverage. He wants it to hurt, wants you to scream to make up for all the times he’s let you enjoy it, wants to see you cry and beg for him to stop.

One swoop forward gives him exactly what he desires, shallowly fucking his full heavy girth in even with how tight you still manage to be. The video on screen displays a similar act, different in position, lacking the blood curdling screams and cries you let out as he mocks and laughs.

“So pretty baby, you’re so pretty for me.” Jaemin licks at his upper lip, jostling against you a few times as he turns you by your chin to look at him, cracking your neck with the strain. “Can I fuck you? Huh?”

He laughs again, an arrogant disgusting laugh, emphasizing the question with another piston of his hips. “Can I? My sweet angel can take it. You already have.”

It’s too easy, you’re nothing but a mindless hole succumbed to his strength. The man behind you more demonic than anything, the gentle features of your concerned doctor turned dark, menacing, purely evil.

His hips hammer wildly, keeping your face turned to the side to watch the way he ravages your body. To watch him destroy and rip away your soul.

Every choked miserable cry you let out only heightens his pleasure, snapping his hips brutally against your backside. The pain hits from both ends with each dig of your thighs and pelvic bone cutting against the table.

“You were tighter the other night.” He spits, wadding up saliva to aim at the middle of your fast. The nasty thick wetness trickling from the bridge of your nose to the puddle of snot and drool accumulated on your lips. “Already fucking loose, you know what that means?”

Fingers squeeze past his relentless hips, shoving between your buttcheeks to scratch at your rim earning a shriek and scurry of your feet to get away. The sadistic laugh that booms out behind you sending shrill fear up your spine, tightening up around the length punching in and out of you with intention to hurt.

“Ah, fuck, yeah. Like that.” Jaemin pushes back, choking your neck from behind to hold you down. Palm smacking down angrily on your rim. “but not today.”

He reaches around, finding your clit between his middle and index finger to pinch and roll until you lift onto your tippy toes with a gurgled scream. “Can’t fuck a baby into you back there.”

“Doctor, please! Stop!” Between heavy breaths and sniffles, Jaemin keeps laughing, biting on his lips from the conflict in your tone. Your pussy locked around his length begging for more the louder you cry and protests.

“Don’t have to beg.” He taunts, licking up your back to bite down on your jaw, his fingers continuing to pleasure your bundle of nerves incessantly. “Gonna fuck you full of cum regardless. You’re so wet for me princess.”

It’s sick, sensing the last semblance of energy leaving your fingertips, the hold you had on the table goes numb, shaking against your will as orgasm rips through you making Jaemin growl and fuck harder past the convulsing around his size. He crushes against you completely, knocking your lungs free of all air, desperately twitching as he paints your insides once again.

He’s quick to recover, faster than you can process, pulling out to throw you down onto your knees and stroke the last spurts of cum onto your lips before you can try to crawl away.

“You’re mine now.” Dr. Na’s chest beats up and down drenched in sweat. You shouldn’t like it, but as you wait for the bile to rise up your esophagus you can’t look away. The pads of his fingers clean your chin, pushing release past your swollen abused lips. Nodding with his chin that you swallow it all.

“What did I just say?” He tuts, pushing two digits down on the middle of your tongue until you cough and choke. Jerking out with a river of drool streaming out onto the floor, onto his designer loafers.

“I’m yours.” You repeat, sniffling with a cough as the tangy taste of cum lodges in your throat. It’s everywhere, rubbed raw onto your skin, stuck between your teeth. The statement is nothing but true as he watches you swallow.

“Exactly.” Dr. Na scoops you up, perched on the edge of the table to slap your thighs open. “You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

#jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct jaemin #jaemin fanfic #na jaemin fanfic #nct dream fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #neopuppy fics #jaemin imagines #onek #jaemin scenarios #nct dream imagines

2K notes · View notes

avoxrising · 9 months

Text

The Feral One • Ch 26

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

A second chapter today as promised

Content Warnings - injury, surgery, mention of psych eval

An hour feels like forever as you watch the one you love slowly fade away. You’re passed out again by the time Peeta returns with a medic.

“I could only find one,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “There were a lot of injuries due to the bombs.”

The medic kneels down to take a look at you. Your blood was still black, worrying the entire group.

“Please,” Finnick pleads. “You have to help her.”

“There aren’t enough of us right now to handle this,” the medic shakes their head. “Half of our unit died to the bombs this morning.”

“Can you radio for someone? Anyone?” Finnick asks.

The medic was able to call for an armored vehicle to come pick you up. They didn’t have any medical supplies but they could drive you to the hospital.

Finnick holds your limp hand the whole way, refusing to let you leave him.

It’s been 12 hours with no news. The doctors immediately rushed you into surgery when you arrived, not even letting Finnick come with you.

Finnick sat alone in the waiting room of the hospital. Peeta had been taken in for a psych eval and Katniss was in the ICU. Boggs was dead, the Leegs were dead, Prim was dead… (Gale was unfortunately not dead)

A gloomy aura hung over the capital that day. The rebels had won but at a high cost. Finnick didn’t know what he would do with himself if you didn’t make it.

“Finnick,” someone states as they nudge his shoulder. The blond looks up to see Johanna in front of him.

“Jo…” he replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard what happened…,” she starts. “I needed to be here. They flew me out from thirteen.”

“Thank you,” Finnick hums as his friend sits beside him.

The two of them sit in silence for hours, Finnick periodically dozing off in his chair.

Johanna nudges him awake when the doctor comes out.

“She made it through surgery,” the doctor states, causing the victors to let out a sigh of relief. “She’s in a medically induced coma for the time being. She’ll need to have another operation in a week to remove the mass in her brain.”

“What mass?” Finnick asks.

“The timer…” Johanna mutters.

“We don’t know exactly what it is,” the doctor explains. “We do, however, believe that it’s the cause of her sudden illness. The doctors are in contact with Mr. Latier to devise a safe plan of removal.”

“Can we see her?” Finnick asks.

“I’m afraid she’s in a quarantine until her immune system rebuilds strength,” the doctor responds. “We need to check you for injuries but after I can set up some chairs outside her room for you.”

Physically, Finnick was fine. The doctors gave him some fluids and treated some cuts but released him soon after.

He wanted to help you in any way he could. The hospital was running short on blood so he donated some. Unfortunately it couldn’t go to you but Johanna’s blood was able to.

The doctors did a full body scan on Johanna and determined she was clear of any capital additions, meaning she could donate blood and tissue to you. She spent every moment with Finnick, only leaving to grab him some food.

Mags and Annie called daily from 13 but weren’t able to come to the capital yet. District 13 was working on assigning the victors places to stay in the capital until Snow’s execution but they weren’t ready. There was still a lot of cleanup to do.

Beetee flew in two days before your scheduled surgery. He showed Finnick and Johanna the brain scans and explained in technical terms how they were going to extract it without triggering any reactions.

“My hacking abilities allowed me to gain access to the experiment database of the capital’s military lab,” he explains. “A similar experiment was done on some rats around 60 years ago. Luckily we do not believe removing it will cause any further damage to her system.”

“What was it designed to do?” Johanna asks.

“I believe the experiment was designed to trigger a rabies-like reaction in the subject; resulting in their death. However, I hypothesize that the process did not complete itself in her due to the amount of blood she lost. The reaction is transported via the bloodstream so it ceased when there wasn’t enough blood left to continue it,” he explains. “She’s lucky she got here when she did. The doctors told me they’ve never seen someone that low on blood survive for that long. I’m optimistic that once we gain access to the medical equipment in the military hospital she will heal fairly quickly.”

“Thank you,” Finnick responds.

“We’re victors,” Beetee states. “We look out for each other.”

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #mockingjay part 2 #the feral one #avoxrising

207 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 20 days

Note

thinking about ivy who runs hot but polyvessels !!! iii gets a cramp in his leg? he gets ivy to massage it out with his warm hands. vessel who has frog hands (hands that are always cold)? hes holding ivys hand or slipping his hands under his shirt at any given opportunity. ii who cant seem to get warm in the winter? finds ivy immediately and is cuddling with him naked to get as much warmth as possible. you have bad cramps? youre getting ivy to rub your stomach and back.

just thinking (i have an ivy bias)

All the sleep token x ivy x reader

Warm hands

Look, sharing is caring. And what kind of friend would Ivy be if he didn’t share a gift of warm hands with the ones closest to him? It started as a joke at first. It was Vessel who had been blowing at his palms for as long as you all sat around ii’s garage writing music. “Fucking freezing”, he had mused in frustration. “It’s not that bad”, Ivy chuckled but once he was met with all of you glaring at him, he simply lifted his hands in defense, “My bad, balls are shivering in my underwear”.

He watched III wrapping both of his arms around you and II, bringing you closer to his chest. All seeking that extra warmth. That left him and Vessel, Vessel whose hands were nearly turning blue. Ivy put down his guitar and stepped closer to him. Vessel let out a little hiss once the warm hands touched his freezing ones. “Should have said you were that cold”, Ivy muttered, rubbing both of Vessel’s palms between his. “It’s nothing”, the lead singer grunted, watching as Ivy reached for the hem of his hoodie, slowly moving Vessel’s hands to lay alongside his lower stomach. The two males let the eye contact linger as Vessel slowly let his fingers trace shapes on Ivy’s skin.

iii never asked for help. That was just how he was. He handled it all by himself. iii thought that no one noticed when something was wrong with him but he couldn’t be more wrong. “What did you do this time?”, Ivy muttered, stepping out of the shower after watching iii limping across the bedroom the whole time. “What do you mean?”, iii frowned turning to face his bandmate. “Don’t bullshit me, long John. I have two working eyes, while you have only one working leg” Ivy sassed back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, you should see a doctor 'cause you are blind, mate”, iii grunted, turning away from him. “Iii, make it easier for both of us”, ivy cut in, walking closer to him, “sit”, he gestured to the bed. iii hesitated before following the orders. Ivy watched him trying not to frown as he sat down. Hands instantly reaching for the waistband of iii pants. “Hey”, iii grunted, wrapping his fingers over Ivy’s wrist. “Don’t be dramatic, I want to feel your thigh”, ivy rolled his eyes, fingers digging into the knots forming in the upper leg. “Fuck”, iii let out a deep sigh once Ivy’s warm fingers pressed into his flesh, “shit, that feels nice”, he whined, letting himself fall backward into the sheets. “Could have done it sooner if you weren’t acting like a little bitch”, Ivy snorted, making iii flip him off.

ii was a regular in Ivy’s bed. Just like iii he would go all mean about it. Bickering with ivy until he dragged him beneath the covers. Feral street cat ivy called him at times. Desperate for attention but not knowing how to ask for it. That’s how the two were now. With Ivy pulling the blanket higher up my shoulders. His cold feet pressed against Ivy’s warm skin. “Fuck you”, ii grunted, cuddling deeper into Ivy. “For what now?”, Ivy chuckled, rubbing his fingers through my hair. “For being so warm when we all are freezing all the time”, the drummer grunted, making Ivy chuckle, “I apologize, truly”.

You were as much of a regular as ii. Especially on your periods. By now Ivy knew your cycle to the tea so for most times even the pre-period cramps were chased away by his hands. But he was especially vital when it all got bad. He would slip into your room after you would miss dinner. And the sight of the dim room would tell him all that he needed to know. Making his way to you Ivy would slip into the bed, trying to disturb you as little as possible. Slowly letting his hands dig into your back at first, putting pressure on the lowest points.

“Ivy”, you would whine, face all scrunched up. “I know, gorgeous, I will make it all better”, he would breathe against your ear, slowly letting his fingers trail towards your stomach. Pulling the semi-warm water pouch away before replacing it with his palms. “Circles”, you mutter, leaning into him. “I know, baby”, he would do just that, putting that sweet pressure onto your lower stomach. “You try to sleep and I will be here”, kissing the side of your head, he would nuzzle closer, “No cramps will find you when I’m near”, and he would keep his promise, warming you up through the night.

#sleep token imagine #sleep token x reader #sleep token ivy imagine #sleep token ivy x reader #sleep token ivy x you #sleep token ii imagine #sleep token iii imagine #sleep token vessel imagine

61 notes · View notes

jrswritings · 6 days

Text

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Fourteen - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with the Chapters 1-13 on the Masterlist! :)

Chapter Fourteen - My Little Wild Wrangler

While walking out of the doctor’s office with about 15 stitches in your arm, you were practically mauled by Asher and Finn who were both crying. You couldn’t help but laugh while putting your arms around them and giving them a light squeeze.

“We thought you were gone forever,” Finn whined.

“And then we would’ve been stuck with that weirdo wrangler and his team without you,” Asher cried.

“Guys, he isn’t all that bad,” you said, looking up to see Tyler cleaning the grass and other debris off Lil Blue and Ol Red.

��But he’s crazy, (Y/n),” Asher said, pulling away from you and wiping his eyes.

“And you’re saying we’re not?” You asked, looking at both of them with a smile.

“I guess you’re right, but I still don’t like him,” Finn said, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed together slightly.

“No one said you had to, Finn,” you said, walking over to your truck to check out the damage.

“Looks like you need to get a front guard like the one I have,” Tyler said, leaning against his truck.

“Headlights are replaceable,” you said, looking at your broken headlight on the driver’s side, “Zach at Tornado Tires usually has stuff for my truck in stock as he drives a 350, too.”

“Maybe for Christmas I’ll get you one,” Tyler said softly, and started to walk down towards JoAnn’s diner.

“If we make it that far,” you joked, walking behind him while sending a text to Zach about a headlight replacement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tyler asked while stopping in his tracks which caused you to run into him.

“It was a joke, Ty,” you said, regaining your balance and then walking around him, “Chill out.”

“Sorry, I can’t chill out when someone I care deeply about just went through a tornado,” he huffed at you, “It should’ve been me who saved that kid.”

“And it wasn’t, it was me,” you said, turning to face him and crossing your arms, “Just be glad I’m not an idiot and know what I’m doing out there even while I was scared.”

“I’m glad you’re alive, (Y/n),” he sighed, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t.”

“You would’ve grieved a day or two then went back to chasing like nothing happened. You’d fall in even more in love with Kate and have a big ol happy family,” you snapped, turning around and walking towards the dinner.

“(Y/n),” he called after you, knowing he messed up.

You had just went through a tornado and Tyler chose now to take your joke seriously, you were uptight from almost being killed and having a boys life in your hands. What if he hadn’t made it and you did? You would’ve been destroyed and most likely quit chasing.

You slowed down your walking pace and took a deep breath. As much as you were scared, you had to realize Tyler was, too. He had just divulged all his feelings to you the day before and he could’ve lost you. You stopped walking and just stood in the middle of the sidewalk while hanging your head. While trying not to cry you heard his boots scrape across the cement then stopping behind you.

“Ty,” you sighed softly, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“I’m sorry, too, babe,” he whispered, “I should’ve been more sensitive to the fact that you were the one out there.”

“You didn’t deserve for me to snap at you either,” you said, turning and facing him.

“No, I did, I was just thinking about me and what I could’ve lost,” he said, looking down into your (y/e/c) eyes.

“Apology accepted,” you said, looking up into his.

He pulled you in for a hug, not caring if anyone saw as he would and could make up some excuse about you needing support after going through that and your team falling apart.

Your body relaxed after making contact with Tyler. Part of you loved how relaxed you felt with him, but another part hated it as you were falling hard for him. You pulled away as you heard a voice call out for Tyler.

“Tyler!” Boone called, running over to him, “The team and I heard what happened! We can’t believe we missed it or didn’t see it coming!”

“It kind of came out of nowhere, and it was dark so we would’ve had a hard time seeing it. Where the hell were all of you anyway?” He asked, smacking Boone’s shoulder playfully.

“We were out in Woodward last night to do some bar hopping, you weren’t back when we were leaving so we left without you,” he said, “We don’t even know where you were.”

“I was out,” Tyler said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Thankfully no one was really injured.”

“The only one I heard was actually hurt was (Y/n) from the Storm Riders,” Boone said, “She’s quite the wild one, ain’t she?”

“Yeah,” Tyler chuckled, “She definitely is.”

“I’m going to catch up with the team to help out anyone else,” Boone said, “We should all do dinner tonight.”

“I think that will work,” Tyler said, “I have a couple things want to talk to the team about anyway.”

“Sounds good, boss!” Boone said while jogging back to Dani and Dexter.

“I’m wild now, huh?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips.

“I can’t say you aren’t,” Tyler said, turning around to face you with a smirk, “My little Wild Wrangler.”

“Sounds like a new t-shirt idea,” you said, walking to the diner.

“You mean like the one you’re wearin’?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It’s called a comfy bedtime shirt,” you said, pulling the flannel over the tornadeo shirt you had worn to bed. You were thankful that your mom engrained into your head to rarely sleep without a bra on due to emergencies like such so you weren’t stuck looking like a participant for a wet t-shirt contest.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said, “Someday you’ll sleep next to the real deal and the shirt won’t suffice anymore.”

“Slow it down, cowboy,” you laughed.

“I’m just sayin’,” he said, shrugging, “You’ll never want to go back.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, “Unless Asher and Finn were having a log sawing contest in their room, I’m pretty sure you were the one snoring up a storm last night.”

“Hey now, I can’t help I was tired after such an exciting day with a beautiful woman,” he said, throwing his hands up while trying to defend himself.

“I’m pretty sure the shirt is a lot quieter than the real thing,” you joked, smiling at him.

“Now that’s just rude,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Rude or the truth?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him and mocking him by putting your hands on your hips.

“Ouch!” He said, rubbing his chest, “That heart the ol heart.”

“You’ll be okay,” you said, walking into the diner with Tyler right behind you.

“Good morning, sunshines!” Cindy called out from behind the counter, “Quite the twister we had this morning, huh?”

“You could say that, Cindy,” you said, walking over to the corner booth and sliding into the seat. Tyler slid in on the other side of the booth, tapping your boots with his.

“Having the normal?” Cindy asked, starting to get a glass of water.

“I’ll actually skip the coffee this morning,” you said, “I’ve had enough excitement this morning to keep me awake for a couple days.”

“I’ll take a coffee,” Tyler said, grabbing a couple creamers.

“On it!” Cindy said, pouring a cup of coffee and your glass of water.

“Were you planning on telling your team tonight that we’re joining?” You asked, leaning back into the seat.

“Something like that,” he said, “I’ll need you to add Asher and Finn to our group chat though as I don’t have their numbers.”

“I can do that,” you said, taking out your phone and pulling up their contacts.

Tyler handed you his phone and when you opened the lock screen you saw it was a picture of you from last night at his little shack taking a picture of the sunset.

“Really?” You asked, showing him his screen which made him smile.

“What can I say?” he said, taking the coffee cup from Cindy when she walked over.

“You’re such a cheese ball,” you laughed, sliding up and it opening the phone.

You added Asher and Finn into his contacts and handed his phone back to him. You took yours out and texted your mom.‘Hey Mom, I plan on heading out that way possibly tomorrow. I wanted to today but my plans are being delayed. Let me know if that works for you. Love you.’

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg @nerdgirljen @winterassassin1804

#glen powell #glen powell x reader #twisters #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x y/n #glen powell x you #twisters x reader #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens twisters #tornado wrangler #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic

56 notes · View notes

prinzrupprecht · 12 days

Note

Hey! Can I ask for Apollo of the RoR? Reader caught his attention during her fight but she doesnt give he any attention cause hes a womanizer except he is real kinda fall for her ❤️

Apollo x Einherjar!reader

Love the request idea! I barely get Apollo requests so my bad if I mess up a bit.

Synopsis: You had been called to ragnarok by Brunhilde to fight for the humanity or else your race would be extinct. It was an honour to be chosen to fight since you were well known from your time.

TW: none—?

WC: 1151

Your round happened to be the 10th round. With barely a victory on your part, you couldn’t help but remember the words of the Chinese god you had defeated. Your fighting style was magnificent before his soul perished. Your Valkyrie had to help you to the infirmary afterwards due to how badly cut you were.

“You— You need to be careful!” Svipul squeaked out as you tried to walk on your own holding your side.

“I’m fine, go worry about yourself.” You croaked but the Valkyrie felt a bit defeated by your stubbornness until a man walked up to you. He was taller than the two of you. He had a smile plastering his face and you recognized him instantly.

Apollo.

“Oh? You look like you need help—"

“No thanks,” you snorted as you tugged on the wall barely holding onto your conscious.

You remember his fight all too well replaying in the back of your mind. You were bored when you watched him fight against Leonidas. You remembered him and it was crazy how he was standing in front of you nervously. Your ears could still hear those fangirls crazily fawning over him during his match at every turn he made, and every moment to exaggerate his poses as if this was some theatre play. You couldn’t exactly remember if you were mad or pissed but you declared to go next after he killed Leonidas. The whole crowd was cheering for him and the humans were in desperate distress over another loss.

Apollo’s mouth gaped and Svipul grabbed your arm to push past him to get you to the infirmary asap. You weren’t in any condition to be stalling in the halls while your wounds have yet to be treated.

Apollo gave a smug look watching your retreated form disappear down the hallway. He was intrigued by your performance. The only reason he watched your fight was because of your beauty, not because of your looks but the beauty of your artistic fighting skills that caught his attention.

It made him lose his composure and ignore the women who easily fall for him. You on the other hand don’t even bother to look at him nor care about his existence. Was this a game for him? He was growing impatient by the minute.

Or could this be him denying he was falling for a human?

~~ while you’re being treated

The doctors were incredible and had already sealed your wounds. You could walk around more freely and there was very minimal pain. So it was true as Sasaki said the doctors here were amazing.

As you expected Svipul had knocked. You quietly mumbled and said it was open. “You look better and bea—"

“I’m sorry! He followed me and insisted on seeing you,” Svipul pushed past Apollo. You could feel your eye twitch. Why? You must look hideous laying in a white gown on a bed that resembles one from a hospital.

You refused to make eye contact with him. “You’re wasting your time.” You flat-out spoke. Svipul kept quiet as she sat next to you. Apollo scoffed at your words but gave you a smug look and stayed in the room.

“I think not, maybe it happens to be that I’m more curious about you. Every single thought running through my mind is about you.” Apollo’s left hand touched his forehead as he spoke so charismatic about you. He even continued his speech.

“They all call me the bright sun god but you even shone brighter when you danced in the arena.” He was smirking but he still managed to make it about him. Were you even surprised? Did he just say you danced? You fought courageously and wanted to win for the sake of your race. He was fighting against your race to be extinct. So which is it?!

Before he came here, he was determined what he was feeling wasn’t a normal desire and that he had fallen in love with your ideals, fighting spirit and beauty. He had accepted the terms with it and didn't care whether you were a human, goddess, deity or demon. Everything about you was beautiful to him which had him drawn to you like a magnet. The most beautiful god of the Greek pantheon likes you? So many questions ran through your head.

“Sh—should I go get my sister—?” Svipul was nervous but you interrupted.

“No.”

You looked at Apollo but it was more of a stubborn glare because he has a fanbase harem that you absolutely detest. So why is he here? He was stubborn like you and doesn’t like being told no.

Deep down you had liked how you caught someone’s attention. Throughout your human life, you could barely even get your parents attention. “I— I don’t believe you. You should leave and find someone else to entertain you,” you were turning read and Svipul wasn’t speaking nor helping you.

Apollo hummed and stepped closer to your bed. His right index finger lifted your chin to meet your eyes. You couldn’t even fight even if you wanted to. Why was he so beautiful and you’re trying so hard to reject him? “You got it all wrong, you’re all that I could think about. Even if I had all the women surround me, you’re the only one that sticks out the most and can satisfy me.” The way he said those words made you turn your head. Satisfy?! Did he really just say those words out loud? Your face must’ve turned a deep shade of red.

“What are you even saying?” You couldn’t even meet his gaze anymore.

“Hmm? I thought it was obvious. I want you to be mine. I can give you everything you desire and in return your loyalty and trust.” Apollo was persistent and you felt like your position was tarnished. Were you being insulted or did he actually genuinely like you?

“Apollo sir, you— you can’t say such things to a human!” Svipul gasped. You were still readily to refuse him but even so, you were certain he was going to be back every day to annoy you. Does he win every woman with this exact line?

“My bad, my bad! Maybe this pretty sunflower will come up with an answer. I’ll leave for now and will return later,” Apollo made a triumph leave. He expects you to answer whether you want to court him?!

How can he be so bold?

“You’re not thinking of courting him are you?” Svipul gave you a questionable look.

“Me? Ha! He can wish,” you were conflicted with what you just said. You were trying hard to resist him but it was becoming harder to.

“Whatever you desire, I’ll support you.” Your Valkyrie was kind and supportive. Thank god she wasn’t like Hlokk or Alvitr who would’ve tried to run Apollo off.

Maybe just maybe you’ll give Apollo a chance.

Note: y’all should give me Qin, Buddha, Hades, or Loki requests! Anyways, sorry again if I messed up Apollo.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader#apollo ror #Apollo x reader #Apollo ror x reader #apollo snv

59 notes · View notes

book-place · 9 months

Text

Accidents Happen

Warnings: hospitals, mentions of injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Avengers x reader platonic

Request: Hi hi! Can you please do a avengers x little reader? R is 6 and maybe Natasha or peter drop her off at school but a few hours after school starts they get a call saying she had an accident and got injured badly. So the whole team shows up at the school to rush her to the Emergency room and the person who dropped R off feels really guilty but the R tells them it wasn't their fault (also could R be wise for her age?) Anyways thanks feel free to ignore this or change some things thank you!

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: Nat blames herself for the accident you had at school that causes the entire team to rush to the hospital

A/N: I loved writing this

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Thank you, Nattie!” You called, scrambling out of the backseat and sending a wide, toothy grin to the redhead.

Natasha smiled at you fondly, “You’re welcome, n/n, have a good day.”

You closed the car door and turned on your heels hurrying towards the entrance, excited for school to start. The woman couldn’t help but chuckle, you’re the only kid she’s ever met that’s been happy to go learn, especially at six years old.

She watched from the car until the entrance door swung shut softly behind you before she put the car into drive once more and set off to begin her no doubt long day, though a soft smile still lingered on her lips from her interaction with you.

-•-

“Where the hell is she?”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you know who I am? I could have you fired with the snap of my fingers!”

“This place is full of so many puny humans, and yet not a single one of them is giving me a straight answer!”

The outraged roars of Earth’s mightiests heroes might not have been what anyone in the hospital was expecting in the middle of the day, but to be fair- they were beyond stressed and concerned. They had no idea what was going on, not really.

About fifteen minutes ago, Natasha had received a phone call from your school- her being your emergency contact- in the middle of a debrief with her teammates. The principal on the other side of the phone had been very vague as she informed the woman that she had been in an accident and was rushed in an ambulance to the nearest hospital, all but hanging up before Romanoff could fire off any one of the thousands of questions racing through her mind.

Chaos had followed that phone call, the avengers all scrambling around, trying to get to the hospital as quickly as possible with no real direction as to what was going on.

So now, they stood in the lobby, anger and worry etched onto each of their faces respectively as they swung around in circles, demanding answers from any of the many people working there.

Bucky and Thor both looked seconds away from lunging towards the closest doctor and shaking them until they gave them an explanation and to point them in your direction.

Tony was sneering at every person that passed, trying to intimidate them while Steve tried to ask questions as calmly as he could. Clint looked seconds away from diving through the doors dedicated to doctors only.

The only one that was silent was Natasha. She stood in the middle of the chaos with her arms pulled around her stomach, face paler than normal and looking as though she might be sick.

She had dropped you off this morning. She had been the one to leave you at that school without a second thought. How could she not realize that something would go wrong? She always had a sixth about that kind of stuff.

And now, because of her lack of realization, you were somewhere in this vast building, lying in a hospital bed, all alone- probably scared. And she didn’t even know if you were alright.

“Miss. Romanoff?”

The voice automatically silenced all of the avengers and they all whipped in the direction of it.

The doctor who spoke, to her credit, didn’t look the least bit intimidated at being stared down by the people, instead glanced down at her clipboard, “You’re here to see Y/n L/n, correct?”

Natashas head immediately bobbed up and down, moving forward, fear gripping her heart, “Is she okay?”

A sympathetic and reassuring smile appeared on the woman’s face, “She’s going to be fine,” She assured the group.

Everyone's muscles immediately loosened and Natahsa felt a shaky breath leave her lips as fear's grip loosened a bit on her heart.

“What happened?” Tony demanded, still not fully convinced.

With an incline of her head, the avengers all piled after the doctor as she led them through the workers only door, “She was in an accident at school. Apparently she had been trying to jump to the monkey bars at recess, but misjudged the distance and landed at the wrong angle on the metal pole of the jungle gym, hitting her head. She was knocked out, so the school called us. She has a concussion, but she’ll be fine in a few weeks if you take the proper precautions. We can discuss those later.”

There it was again, the fear and worry and guilt that was consuming the redheads entire being. She could tell by their reactions that her team was feeling the same.

“Right in here.” The doctor cast them one last smile before leaving them at the door of your room.

Immediately, Bucky all but threw the door open and everyone rushed in, crowding into the small room.

Natahsa pulled up short at the sight of you, lying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than normal surrounded by all the big equipment in the oversized bed.

You turned your head with wide eyes at the sound of footsteps, but relaxed into a smile when you saw who it was.

“Hi, guys,” You piped happily- as if nothing happened- but your voice was a bit weaker than normal.

“Oh, n/n,” Nat breathed out, immediately falling to your side, crouching down, grasping your hand in hers and squeezing it, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, smiling up at the woman, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

The woman frowned, smoothing back your hair from your forehead, “Do you need anything?”

Apparently, the team had caught onto Romanoffs feelings of guilt a while ago, because they exited the room at that moment, knowing that they should give her some space with you for a few minutes to sort through her emotions. They hated leaving you, but knew you would always be safe as long as Natasha was around.

You shook your head- slowly so as to not hurt yourself more, “I’m fine.” You promised, “I’m happy you’re all here.”

A shaky breath once again slipped from the woman's lips, “I’m so sorry,” Her eyes were welled up with tears.

It was then your turn to frown, confusion pulling your eyebrows down, “For what, Nattie?” You had no idea what she was talking about.

“If I hadn’t left you today, if I had known that something was wrong, I never would’ve left you.” A single tear slipped down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut and put your still intertwined hands to her forehead.

You squeezed her hand once, “It’s not your fault, Nattie, you couldn’t have known.” You were smiling kindly at her now.

“But-”

You shook your head stubbornly, a trait she often wondered if you got it from her, “It’s not your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone and there’s no way to tell if or when it’ll happen. Accidents happen.” You insisted.

A shaky huff of a laugh left her lips as she pressed a kiss to your forehead, “When did you get so wise?”

A wide grin appeared on your face, “I always have been, you’re just noticing now.”

We Are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747 @i-writes-things @popfishjr @mitsuki-murakami @mythixmagic @ladyagagaslefttoe @etanordoesbullsh1t @wolfmoonmusic @nutellani @hyunzrii @scarthefangirl

378 notes · View notes

oneofthetorturedpoets · 11 months

Note

Hey idk if you’re still taking requests or not, but if you are could you please write one where Melissa and Reader were in a long term relationship and decided to have kids but after the first couple rounds of IVF doesn’t work, which causes Melissa to overthink and end their relationship. And after a few weeks reader starts to feel sick and finds out she’s pregnant but when she try’s to tell Melissa she finds out she’s blocked so she decides to not to not wanting to mess up Mel’s life. And after a few years they run into each other only Reader has a little red head, you can choose how you want the gaps and the rest to go just please a fluffy ending

not again

“what ever the stick says, it will be okay” you said, trying to mentally prepare yourself, melissa gently grabs your hand.

“i’m here with you, my love” you turn the test around, looking at the results. ‘negative’ written on the small screen.

“fuck” your heart drops, tears immediately filling up your eyes. melissa takes you in her arms as you fall apart.

“it’s okay, you’re alright” her hand runs down your back at an attempt to sooth you.

after hours of crying you finally fell asleep in melissa’s arms, she holds you tight as she silently cries. it’s been almost a year of you guys trying to get pregnant, the ivf treatments are exhausting, the proof is in your eyes. you’ve been obsessing over getting pregnant, trying day in and day out, hoping for something to work. you and melissa haven’t had time for each other, it’s been months since you’ve went on a date, it’s creating a hole in your relationship.

all of this thinking causes melissa to spiral, what if it’s her fault you can’t get pregnant? shes the one who brought up the ivf idea, she’s the one pushing so hard. melissa is already 55, why is a 55 year old trying to have a baby? why is she’s messing with a 20 something year old? you have your whole life ahead of you, what does she give you? melissa starts panicking, she jumps out of bed, wiping her eyes. she grabs a suitcase, stuffing it with all of her clothes and important belongings.

once she’s all pack, she walks over to your side of the bed, staring at you one last time. her hand reaches out tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. she leans down, kissing your lips with as much passion as she can manage. she pulls her wedding ring off, sitting it on the nightstand next to you, walking out of the room, leaving you there alone.

your eyes flutter open, the sun beams in your eyes. you roll over, patting the other side of the bed, you feel the cold sheets. you sit up, leaning over to grab your phone, looking at the time ‘8:43’. she shouldn’t have left the house yet.

“melissa?” you call out as you get up. no reply is heard so you make your way to the kitchen “are you here?” you continue through the house until you find a note left on the coffee table in your living room.

‘i’m sorry. i’m sorry i let the insecurities get the best of me. i’m sorry i’m leaving you like this. i’m sorry i couldn’t give you a kid. you are the love of my life, but im not yours, you’re young, you still have your whole life ahead of you. i don’t know how i got so full of myself, thinking we could work. i hope you find someone who is able to give you the life you deserve, im sorry that wasn’t me. i’ll love you forever, y/n/n’

you drop the paper, tears falling down your face as you stand still, in shock of what you just read. you let yourself fall onto the couch, sobbing into your hands.

“you’re pregnant!” your doctor says as she moves the screen to show you, your ultrasound. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“w-what?” your heart fills with hope.

“you’re pregnant, the test showed a false negative. congratulations, y/n. you deserve this” she says before leaving you to sit with the news. you pull out your phone, searching up melissa’s contact. your thumb hovers over the call button before pressing it, you hold the phone up to your ear.

“the number you are trying to reach-” the phone calls out, your heart drops once again. you can’t even contain yourself anymore, crying out. how are you supposed to raise a kid on your own?

five years later.

you decided to move to back to philly, you never would’ve left if it wasn’t for melissa. walking into your new place, you breathed in the new smell, feeling content with your surroundings.

“where’s my room, mama?” your daughter, ann, asks while pulling on your pant leg.

“come on, i’ll show you!” you pick her up, walking her down the hallway.

after unpacking, you and ann were beat. you felt like your back was going to break if you lifted another box.

“can we get ice cream? please?” she pleads, giving you were best puppy dog eyes.

“hmm, i’ll have to think about it” you say jokingly, while tapping your chin.

“mommm” your daughter whines, chuckling slightly.

“alright, we can go. just because you’ve been a huge little helper” you poke her stomach, gently as she giggles and tries to run away from you.

you open the door for ann, letting her run into the shop. she’s leans onto the glass, looking over each one of them.

“calm down, baby. we aren’t in a rush” you say, picking her up so that she can see the flavors better.

Unbeknownst to you, melissa is sitting at a table. her heart is in her throat, unable to think. she can’t look away from you, was that really you? after all this time, you look different. your hair is darker, your smile lines slightly more visible. you’re much happier.

melissa stares at the kid in your arms, her red hair more vibrant than she’s ever seen. you must have the life she imagined you had.

“melissa?” in the time it took for her to gather her thoughts, you had already saw her. she couldn’t face you, not after how she cowardly left you. melissa was up and out of the store faster than she’s moved in years. unfortunately to her, you were faster, already on her tail.

“melissa! wait!” you call out, trying to sped up “you don’t get to run away this time” you grab her arm, stopping her. she turns around, her eyes meeting yours. her gaze softens, she missed being this close to you.

“i’m sorry, i cant-” you cut her off.

“you left me, in the middle of the night with a fucking note” you say, stepping closer to her.

“language, mama” your daughter says in a stern tone, your head clearing. you step back, away from melissa.

“i’m sorry, honey. it won’t happen again” you kiss her forehead “go back inside and see what flavor you want” you say, setting her on the ground. she runs inside.

“how old is she?” melissa says, her voice cracking slightly.

“four, almost five” you say before taking a deep breath “she’s yours melissa” her eyes widen as she gasps.

“she-she’s mine?” you nod, melissa walks up to the window, watching ann point at the ice cream “what’s her name?” she looks at you.

“ann y/l/n… after you” the guilt builds up in her chest, she left you with a kid to raise by yourself because she was too selfish.

“can i meet her?” she whispers.

“she deserves to know you” you walk inside before her. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to contain herself as she walks inside. the little girl turns to her and smiles at her.

“hi, i’m ann” melissa’s heart melts “who are you?” melissa looks up at you, unsure of what to say.

“baby, this is your other mama, the one i tell you about” the girl gasps.

“really!?” you nod, smiling “i’ve been waiting for you! mama says that you’ve been in outer space, helping the aliens” melissa chuckles.

“yes i have been, they told me to tell you hi” ann jumps into melissa’s arms, hugging her tightly.

“please don’t leave again” she says to her mom. melissa grabs your hand, the spark you always had years ago, came back, shocking you. you smile down at her.

“i never will, hon… not again” she says as she stares at you.

#abbott elementary #fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fic #law #law fic #wlw fiction #fem!reader #my fic #angst with a happy ending

222 notes · View notes

breakerwind · 3 months

Text

Massage

Lee!Sakura / Ler!Suo

Warning: First part is mostly feet tickling

Summary: Sakura hurts his foot in a fight and seeks Suo’s aid. After suggesting a massage, Suo learns something about his friend.

A/N: I didn’t read this after writing it so ignore any errors

Sakura wasn’t used to getting hurt in fights. He was skilled and usually a tier above anyone he fought.

He wouldn't’ve ever expected to hurt himself while beating up a thug who was causing trouble in the town, but here he was. One of his ankles sat on Suo’s knee as the boy examined his right foot.

“I should take you to a nurse.” Suo sighed, partially annoyed that Sakura would come to him instead of a professional. “I could probably get you in trouble with Umemiya for not telling anyone about an injury, y’know?” He teased, looking Sakura in his eyes.

Sakura couldn’t maintain eye contact. He looked away, slightly blushing. “Don’t. I don’t even know how this happened!” He crossed his arms. “I lifted my leg to kick the guy in his scummy face, but when I pivoted my foot, I felt something weird.”

“Something weird? Did you sprain it?” Suo asked, worriedly. He furrowed his eyebrows and considered asking how he could find the guy who was technically responsible for this.

“I dunno! I’m not a doctor, you figure it out…” The injured boy pouted, still looking away. He hadn’t turned to face Suo since he’d walked into the room. He was too embarrassed to have gotten hurt, and having to show a classmate doubled it.

Suo rolled his eyes. “Well, neither am I…but if I had to guess…you probably just twisted it the wrong way.” Suo grabbed Sakura’s foot and examined it all over. “Nothing looks weird to me.”

“So you can’t fix it?! This was a waste of time!” Sakura huffed and puffed, dramatically. He finally turned his head to face Suo, who was giggling.

“What? What’s funny?” Sakura growled. Suo didn’t reply. He just sat there, covering his face as he giggled out loud.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking about how funny it’ll be when I tell Nirei about this. I’m sure he would love to include this injury in your section in his journal.” Suo spoke, staring Sakura in the eyes. He seemed serious but playful. Poor Sakura couldn’t tell if he should beg for mercy or slap him in the face.

Slamming his uninjured foot against the floor in an attempt to scare Suo, Sakura replied: “You’d better fucking not! I’ll…I'll, uh, I’ll beat your ass! I swear, Suo!”

Suo laughed, causing Sakura to become even more angry with him. “Hey! Don’t you dare tell Nirei, I swear I’ll kick your a-”

“Hush! I’m only joking. However…with a hurt foot, you won’t be able to go on any patrols in the city.” Suo interrupted. Sakura raised an eyebrow and sighed. With his injured foot still on Suo’s knee, he gathered up all of his pride and asked:

“Will you…fix…it? Or something? Gah, I don’t fucking know! Just do something!”

Suo smiled and nodded. “Yes, I will try to fix this pain in your foot.” He scooted his chair closer to Sakura and sat his ankle in his lap. Suo’s fingers suddenly grabbed onto the pad of his foot, catching Sakura off guard.

“Hey! Stohap!” Sakura yelped, trying to pull his ankle away. Suo grabbed it just in time and spoke.

“Is something wrong? Did that hurt?”

Sakura shook his head and replied: “No…no…it didn’t. Just don’t grab it like that, alright?!”

“Alright.” Suo gently began to massage his thumbs into the pad of Sakura’s right sole. He moved his fingers slowly, trying not to startle the boy like last time.

He looked up and saw that Sakura had laid his head over the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling. He seemed content, so Suo continued massaging.

After a few moments, he slid his thumbs down to the arch of Sakura’s foot, lightly moving them in circular motions across his warm skin. Suo noticed that Sakura had begun to wiggle his toes, so he decided to be playful and tap one of them.

“Ah, asshole! Stop it!” Sakura shouted, scrunching his foot. He gave up trying to pull it back since Suo always caught it.

“Are you sure that it doesn’t hurt? It’s alright if it does…” Suo tried to reassure the boy. He didn’t want him to feel embarrassed about his injury.

“I’m fucking positive! It just…shut up! Just massage it or whatever and be done with it!” Sakura was becoming visibly red all over… His cheeks and nose were red, and even his ears were red. Suo could tell that something was up…

Ignoring Sakura’s loud demands, Suo continued pushing his thumbs into the arch of his foot. However, he ‘accidentally’ let one of his fingers slip down the length of Sakura’s sole–from his toes to the ball of the foot.

Sakura yelped and his knee jolted, trying to retract his foot. Suo swiftly grabbed and placed his ankles in an armlock, and before Sakura knew it, he was being tickled!

Five fingers scribbled up and down the entirety of his foot’s arch, causing him to let out a laugh that Suo had never heard before. It was deep, but light and playful.

“Wahah! Suo, stohahap! Whahat the hehell?!” Sakura howled with laughter, tugging at his ankle.

“Shh! So loud…” Suo giggled, bluntly scraping his fingernails against the upper section of Sakura’s arch, near the pad of his foot. Sakura’s toes were wiggling, his sole was scrunching, and his fingers were clenched into fists.

He tried anything to resist the horrible ticklish feelings of Suo’s fingertips, but nothing worked. “Gahaha! Suo, whaha, why?! Stohap this!”

Suo shrugged. “Well, I figured that something was afoot when you kept reacting weirdly to the massage. Ah, this doesn’t hurt, right? All jokes aside.” The boy stopped his fingers. “I know it tickles, but does it hurt..?”

“No…it doesn’t hurt! Now stop it! Lemme go!” Sakura whined. He jabbed Suo in the side with his other foot’s toes, which would’ve helped him escape if Suo hadn’t grabbed that ankle and added it to the armlock as well.

“Well, if it doesn’t hurt, why should I stop? You seem to enjoy it. See?” Suo snickered, jamming his fingers between his left foot’s toes. He slid them back and forth, making Sakura go berserk. He shook in his chair and slammed his fists against his thighs.

“GaHAhaHAha! NuhuHUHAhoHO!” Sakura could barely form a sentence. His mind was beginning to go to mush as he felt Suo’s fingers tickle the shit out of the sides of his toes.

“All of this laughter, you must love it. You know you love it, Sakura.” Suo chuckled, hoping his gaslighting attempt would work. He held a random foot’s row of toes and scribbled his fingers underneath them, not missing a single spot. No area under Sakura’s toes went untickled, he made sure to scratch between the bottoms of every single toe, and then some.

“I dohon’t! I doHOhoHAheho! I fuhUHahOHoha! I fuhucking hate it!” Sakura managed to say, through all of his laughter.

Suo made a dramatically sad face and let go of his toes. He even freed Sakura’s ankles from the armlock, too. “You hate it? Really?” He pouted.

“Yes, I do! And fuck you, that tickled! Really badly..!” Sakura shouted, his face pink as it could be. He pulled his feet into his lap and grabbed his shoe, throwing it at Suo.

The boy had narrowly missed the shoe to the face. He ducked just in time, luckily. Suo smirked and began crawling towards Sakura.

“Wuh…hey, stop! Stop that! You’re fucking creepy, y’know that?!” Sakura yelled, backing up as quickly as he could. He felt kind of bad for calling Suo creepy, but the boy had a mad scientist look on his face as he slithered toward him! He couldn’t help but throw insults. It was that, or throwing fists!

Without speaking a single word, Suo pounced on Sakura’s thighs, sitting down comfortably. He wiggled his fingers in the air and slowly pushed them towards Sakura’s belly.

“Gah, noho! Nohot more, puhlease!” Sakura whined, kicking his feet. He tried to grab Suo’s wrists, but he was so weak from giggles that he just couldn’t.

Suo snuck his fingers under Sakura’s shirt and began pinching his hips and waist. His fingertips poked and prodded at his belly as well.

“Suhuho, nohOHaha! It tihickles!” Sakura pleaded for Suo’s mercy, but he was too focused on getting revenge for the shoe to the head.

Suo snaked his fingers upward and clawed Sakura’s ribs, his fingernails raking up and down, again and again. Sakura was a mess at this point. He was so weak from laughter that he could hardly fight back, but he couldn’t just sit there and accept his ticklish demise like that!

He whacked Suo’s head with his limp fists, but it didn’t damage the boy at all. If anything, it tickled him too.

“Trying to attack me, Sakura?” Suo hummed, an evil grin on his face. Sakura was smart enough to know that Suo would use this so-called ‘attack’ as a reason to tickle him even more, so he clamped his arms against his sides and prayed for the best.

“Aw, you know I can just…” Suo grabbed Sakura’s wrists and placed them above his head firmly. “Do this, right? Now you can’t protect those ticklish pits, eh?”

Sakura’s forehead was sweating. He was trapped and Suo somehow knew his most ticklish spot. Biting his tongue, he brought his knee up and slammed it into Suo’s back.

“Cute…that didn’t hurt…at all,” Suo spoke. “Just a few more tickles and I’ll stop. Besides, you love this. Right?”

Sakura shook his head and replied: “Yes!”

Suo looked surprised. “What? Hm, alright…” Sakura’s eyes widened when he realized his mistake.

“No! Nohoho, I meant no! Suo!” Sakura shouted. How the hell did he mess that up so badly?

Suo watched Sakura beg. He pitied him right now. He considered stopping but wanted to hear the boy’s cute laughter a little bit more before he stopped.

“One…two…” Suo used his free hand to poke the center of Sakura’s armpit. “Three!” Then, he used all five fingers to scratch up and down the slightly sweaty, but endlessly ticklish area. He curled his fingers around the sides and edges of the underarm, eliciting an adorable laugh from Sakura.

“NahaHAha! Suhuho, I’m goHOhahonna cry! Puhulease!”

Suo took a good look at Sakura’s eyes, but there were no tears. “Hm…fine.” He said, letting his wrists go and taking his fingers out of his armpit. “I’ll stop! Only because I’m not upset at you for trying to knock my head off anymore.”

“Wuh?! What the hell?! I never did that!” Sakura crossed his arms.

“You did! You threw that shoe, so instead of punching you, I gave you the easy way out. Say, thank you.” Suo spoke. He had to be crazy to expect ‘thank you’ to come from Sakura’s mouth.

“Thank…you?” Sakura had surprisingly decided to obey Suo. He was likely afraid that the boy would go crazy on him with tickling again. Either way, he was ready to get this over with and tell his friend something important.

“Thank…you. For my foot.” Sakura said with a blank expression. He sounded unsure about the thank you…

“Hm? What do you mean?” Suo was genuinely confused, he’d done more tickling than massaging.

“The tickling. I guess it helped, or something. I don’t fucking know! It just feels better, I guess!” Sakura stood up and held a hand out.

Suo grabbed it and was surprised to feel Sakura pull him up.

“If you tickle me again, I’ll kick your ass! I mean it! Okay?!”

Suo giggled. He couldn’t take Sakura seriously like this. His face was pink, his hair was messy, and he had no shoes on. “Alright, I won’t,” Suo said, smiling. “Need help finding that show you so rudely threw at me? I don’t see it anywhere.”

Sakura was taken aback, but Suo was right.

“F-fine! You can help me find it. But no silly games, like right then, alright?!”

Suo nodded. “I know, I know…no more silly games. Got it.”

The two boys teamed up to find Sakura’s socks and shoes that had somehow disappeared during this ‘physical therapy’ session. The day ended with Suo still teasing Sakura about his ticklishness, even threatening to tell Nirei, who would never let it go.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, though. He wanted to keep Sakura’s little secret all for himself.

#lee!sakura #ler!suo #haruka sakura #hayato suo #wind breaker #wind breaker tickling #wind breaker tickle #tickle fic #ticklish!sakura #breakerwind

65 notes · View notes