#replacing bits has got to be a pain though

[wosoamazing]

The Descent

(Yes) I deleted my other Magda and Pernille fic, for no other reason than it was crap and this could replace it. I hope you like this fic, I did try to make it as accurate as possible in terms of the medical side of things however it may not be completely accurate. I am open to doing a part 2. 2k words Warnings: severe sickness, ambulances, hospitals/icu

You felt sick, your stomach churned and your whole body ached. Normally you would be fine sleeping in your own bed when you felt sick, but this felt different, you didn’t want to be alone, however as you stood in front of Leah’s door you hesitated, the game against chelsea was tomorrow and you didn’t want to ruin her sleep or make her sick, but the way your vision blurred quickly wiped away all of the hesitation and you gently knocked on her door.

“You’re all good to come in,” Leah called out.

“Um, c-can I sleep with you tonight?” you asked, barely audible as you avoid eye contact with her.

“Of course,” Leah replied, “do you feel sick?” she asked as she noticed your clammy skin and pale face.

“A bit,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bed.

“Okay, you get yourself comfy and I’m just going to grab some things, just in case,” you slightly nodded at her as you slipped under the covers, curling up into a ball. Leah would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly concerned, you’d been living with her for 5 years now and you weren’t often affected by illnesses.

Whilst Leah was gone you’d subconsciously reached out for her hoodie that laid on the middle of her bed, so you could hug it, trying to find some comfort. She quickly returned with a bucket, several drinks, an ice pack, some medicine and a thermometer. 

“I’m just taking you temp quickly,” she whispered to you as she brushed some of your hair out of the way before placing the thermometer in your ear, frowning moments later, “38, you’ve got a temp, can you take these for me?” she said as she handed you your water bottle and two tablets, you did as she asked before rolling over.

“Try to sleep okay, but wake me if you need anything at all, even if just for a hug,” you nodded as your eyes slipped shut.

Leah turned off the lamp before grabbing her phone, quickly composing a message to your aunt.

To Magda: Hey, just a heads up Mini has a fever and she doesn’t look too good. I've given her some meds and she is sleeping in my bed (she asked) so I can keep an eye on her easily at least, but I doubt she’ll play tomorrow. I’ll still bring her to the game though and make sure she gets checked out by the medics. From Magda: Thank you Leah, let us know if you need any help.

Your parents died when you were a baby, and Magda became your guardian, it was only two years after she’d signed for Chelsea that you got offered a contract at Arsenal, which you took. An arrangement was made with the club that you’d live with Leah and some of the team 2 nights of the week and the rest with Magda. However as you got older and training got more intense you moved in with Leah permanently, but you still did see Magda and Pernille quite often.

It was only two hours later that you awoke to a wave of nausea washing over you, feeling worse than you ever had before, you tried to swallow the nausea however your attempts only made it worse and you knew you needed to sit up. Sitting up felt too hard, it shouldn’t have been that hard. You wanted to cry, pain had settled itself deep into every inch of your body.

“You okay?” Leah asked, as she noticed you had sat up.

You shook your head as you covered your mouth, Leah quickly placed the bucket in front of you before you started to heave violently into the bucket, your body swayed slightly and Leah quickly but carefully moved so she was sitting behind you, you inbetween her legs which your helping to keep your body steady as she rubbed her back. When you finally finished your body practically went limp as you collapsed back into her, your head lolling against her shoulder.

“Le, I don’t feel well,” you weakly breathed out, your heart racing as your whole body shivered, despite the heat radiating off you.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just going to check your temp again,” you hummed in reply, as she mumbled a daint ‘fuck’, the thermometer displaying 41.

“Think ’m gonna pass out,” you slurred as your body became even more heavy.

“No, you’re okay, just close your eyes and take some breaths,” Leah tried to reassure you, whilst remaining composed as she dialled 999.

-

“Can you tell me what's happened?” One of the paramedics asked as they started working on you.

“About 2 hours ago she said she was feeling sick and then just 15 minutes ago she woke up and threw up, and she was suddenly lethargic and her temp was 41 and so I called and since I called she’s thrown up twice more,” The paramedic nodded as she took over, checking your pulse and eyes.

“Okay, we’re just going to get you onto this stretcher and into our ambulance, so we can start some fluids and try cooling you down,” she said, but you could barely process what was happening, your head was spinning and you felt like you might die.

Leah sat at your head, watching as the paramedic and special care paramedic worked on you, she’d messaged Magda and Pernille after hanging up with 999 and told them what was happening. You drifted in and out of consciousness the whole way to the hospital, still however finding the conversation Leah was having with the paramedic about football calming.

Magda held Pernille’s hand tightly, as Pernille drove the both of them to the hospital. The swede could hear her heart beating in her chest as her worry for you increased with every minute. Her throat tightened as she felt the feeling of dread rise inside of her. What if this was something serious, what if she lost you too.

“What if she’s not okay, what if we’re too late,” 

“She’s strong, you know that, she will be okay,” Pernille replies as she squeezes Magda’s hand reassuringly.

Magda nodded, but she couldn’t deal with all the thoughts going through her brain. “What if this affects her career? She’s been working so hard, the world cup…” her words trailed off, the weight sitting on her chest only growing.

“Let’s not think about that right now, we just need to focus on getting her the help she needs,” Pernille replies and Magda nods and she swallows thickly.

The fluorescent lights in the ICU were harsh, illuminating the entire ward. The beeping of machines, the hushed voices and the tears from others only heightened Magda’s anxiety, they could see you slightly, through the glass doors of the ICU waiting room, the doors to your room were open and many nurses and doctors were working on your small and fragile body, the sight making Magda’s stomach churn.

“We’re here for her, and I’m here for you, you don’t have to be strong this time,” Pernille whispered as she squeezed Magda’s hand, knowing how hard it must be for her.

“Are they going to tell us anything? It’s been an hour,” Magda asked, trying to keep her tears from spilling over, she felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, on the edge of just completely breaking down.

15 minutes later a doctor walked into the room, and sat down in front of them, his expression was serious but kind, “Magda, Pernille, so your daughter-” Magda didn’t hear anything else, the word ‘daughter’ hitting her like a wave, reminding her of exactly how she ended up with you as her daughter.

“Magsy,” Pernille said softly, the doctor having stopped, noticing Magda had zoned out, clearly very used to distressed families, “you’re okay,” Pernille continued, wrapping her arms around her nodding at the doctor to continue.

“She’s experiencing severe sepsis. We’ve started aggressive treatment but she will need to monitor her closely, we’re almost certain the cause is infection, we just can’t seem to pinpoint its location,”

“Can we see her? Sit with her?” Pernille asked as tears rolled down Magda’s cheeks.

“Of course, she has a feeding tube and oxygen mask currently, along with many monitors and pumps connected to her, so you just need to prepare yourself for that. Just make sure you keep your voices down,” Pernille nodded before they stood up to follow the doctor.

As they approached your bedside Magda felt the lump in her throat grow, she just wanted to be able to make everything better and she couldn’t.

“Älskling,” she whispered as she sat down in the chair beside your head, Pernille standing behind her with her hands on her shoulders, “we’re here, Älskling. We’re right here with you,” you stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering, and for a brief moment, Magda thought you might open your eyes. But they remained closed, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

You stirred, the heaviness in your body was almost suffocating as you pried your eyelids open, only to be greeted by the harsh fluorescent lights, and the machines around you beeping. You squinted trying to focus on the figures hovering beside you.

“Älsking, can you hear me?” Magda’s voice was laced with concern, yet you could pick out the slight relief in her tone. You turned your head slightly and saw her, tears glistening in her eyes, which were puffy. You nodded, as your eyes slipped closed again, and Magda moved to hold your hand. She really wanted to just curl up in your bed with you, but that was frowned upon in the ICU.

-

It was a few hours later when you woke up again,  finally felt coherent enough to take in your surroundings, and realise you weren’t at ‘home’.

“Where…. Where am I?” you managed to croak out.

“You’re in the hospital, the ICU to be more specific, but you’re going to be okay,” Pernille whispered, both Magda and Leah asleep. You tried to reply but a wave of nausea rolled through you, forcing you to swallow your words back down, Pernille’s brow furrowed with concern, “Do you feel sick again? Do you want a bowl?”

“I-I’m okay,” you said as you shook your head.

“You’re a terrible liar, but I’ll believe you, just breathe through it,” Pernille said softly, just as a nurse walked in.

“Oh, I see we’re awake and more alert by the looks of it, I’m Linda, I’m just going to check your vitals and top you up on some medication, the doctors will do rounds soon, so if you’re happy to wait until then for information they’ll update you then” Linda said and you nodded.

“Are you all missing the game?” you asked Pernille and she nodded.

“The teams don’t know why though,” she replied and you sighed, “none of this is your fault, Chelsea will definitely win now though, with Arsenal missing it’s main centre back duo,” you rolled your eyes at her as both the nurse and her laughed.

-

After a while, four doctors entered the room, all of them holding tablets, “Good to see you awake,” one of the said, his tone professional yet warm, “you’re responding well to treatment, but we need to keep you here for observation a bit longer, at least until it’s clear the infection is going away or we find the source,” he continued speaking but you zoned out, not wanting to hear more, it was starting to dawn on you that this was a lot more serious than it seemed to be at the start. You wanted to play again, you wanted to ask if you would be able to play again. But you knew getting healthy was a priority. Not everyone makes it out of the ICU, you knew that.

[medicinemane]

And maybe you'll be like "but if you don't trust businesses, how can you trust welfare?"

I fucking don't. My mom trying to get on food stamps fucked me up because a lady I never met without my permission got my SSN from my mom and started editing my files. My heart still races to this very second whenever I think about it, it kinda messed me up bad and I'll never ever ever see any kind of recourse

And I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose my medicaid just cause I inherited some money from my grandpa

And I've never even applied for disability cause it kinda doesn't matter finding out if I'd qualify or not cause of my depression, when the rules are so restrictive I don't know if I've even be allowed to keep my house

I do not fucking trust these things on a personal level. I feel like out of a lot of people I have the most to fear from them cause I'm on the edge of having things work, and that gets you punished

...but I need medicaid in order to have insurance (and when you strip out the finance side of medicaid, I love medicaid... they're honestly incredible insurance... I just... I just... dental is like 90% of why medicaid is so important to me, ever since I found out this state pays for it I've actually been able to do cleanings which is important to me cause I can't always get myself to brush)

And I think things like disability and food stamps are pretty damn important on a personal level, and honestly are also good for the economy cause they get people spending... it's practically a free cash infusion into the economy, cause these are people who need to buy stuff

There's just so much important stuff welfare does that it's worth dealing with government

No, what I want is more accountability so if someone gets my SSN from a 3rd party like my mom they're held to HIPPA styles standards where that's not ok to access my files without my permission (She changed my fucking address and tried to get medicaid to investigate me for fraud! Never even met me)

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

Secondly I want less punitive focused rules. I'd frankly prefer bezos get on disability than smack down some poor sod cause they got $2000 in the bank or cause their friend lets them live with them for free

If there's gonna be a cut off on these programs, it needs to be a solid step above the poverty line, cause... by definition I assume poverty line denotes kinda the minimum expected income people can reasonably live off of, and if you take away benefits people are gonna lose a chunk of money to covering that stuff themself, so you need a buffer before you kick people off

I don't fucking trust the government for a second, I've actively been fucked by them and on a personal level I avoid everything but medicaid and only that cause everything but the money is pleasant to deal with and I kinda need it (honestly if I was rich I'm not even kidding that I'd rather give medicaid like $400 a month than some insurance company, I sincerely like them as insurance)

But I'd trust them a lot more if they were less punitive, less out to hunt me down and gut me cause someone handed me a fiver or cause I started to get on my feet, and if government employees had concrete rules they had to follow that were actually transparent and enforced

Like 90% of my problems with welfare go away if they're held accountable and there's less "catch the welfare cheats" mentality going around

I don't trust the government in the slightest, but sadly there some jobs it kinda has to do, so I'd just rather force it to be an open book where the public can keep an eye on it and if they step out of line there's consequences (sort of like I don't trust most mega corps but happen to sometimes need stuff from them... did you know literally every cell service provider has been illegally selling shit like your location data to random people like bounty hunters, and the FCC just slapped them with a fine that's 0.02% of their yearly incomes and debated even doing that? I even can offer a source on that)

...I don't trust much of any authority cause they constantly fail me and kinda screw me. Don't trust doctors either, but I still gotta go to them, you know? ...they're just... they're real bad at listening... so many systems need systemic change

(You know who I really don't trust is the cops. I could point to so many examples. My uncle doesn't trust cops either, and he's an ex Fire and SWAT paramedic, he worked with them and we still got into a long conversation where he basically tore into them far better than I can)

(I don't trust authority that's not accountable)

[simpjaes]

BIG D*CK FOR DUMMIES (s.jy)

The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. 

MDNI!!! | pls leave feedback and reblog your fave writers!

PAIRING ― jaeyun x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 2.4k

CONTENT ―  first time, established relationship, top jaeyun, painful sex

NOTE ― this was originally written for a different idol on my other blog [ncteez] but i pictured jake in that one en o’clock episode doing this and went feral so……here’s ur giant package. 

smut tags― he’s a little cocky (lmao), i guess you could say size kink but it’s more like huge cock / tiny pussy size kink, theres some crying, praising, reader gets off like almost instantly and becomes incredibly cock drunk the second he’s able to actually fuck

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things you knew about your boyfriend before dating: he’s very protective, super smart, has good taste in music, his hands are big and warm, and he’s very down to earth.

Things you didn’t know about your boyfriend until after dating and he’s on top of you during a moody and rainy night makeout session: his cock is huge and it’s very intimidating.

One might ask, how could you have not known? Well, that’s easy. It’s a fairly new relationship and a very shy relationship at that. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, actually, because it’s not like you don’t want to be intimate with him. You definitely do, and apparently so does he. 

It’s the first time in the three weeks you’ve been dating that you’ve gotten to be completely alone with him in an intimate setting. For one, you live with your parents, and secondly, he lives with three other dudes who like to be all up in his business. It’s not exactly easy to get alone time with him. Thankfully, your parents are out on a five-day holiday somewhere in the Bahamas and you’re here on your family couch with Jaeyun’s hands cradling your neck as you kiss him. 

It got heated very fast, presumably because the two of you haven’t really had the privacy to do more than a standing makeout session without someone listening in, or worse, walking in. It almost makes the air feel electric now, kind of like a breath of fresh air except the fresh air tastes like the fruity chewing gum he had in his mouth when he originally came over.

Here’s the thing though, and man, it’s a thing. Looking at Jaeyun you’d think he’s average at best and you’re not really the type to go around guessing dick sizes.  So, naturally, when he slots a leg between yours as he got on top of you and you fucking felt it against your leg, you were a little more shocked than anticipated. Maybe he let out a little snide chuckle at your reaction too, you wouldn’t know, you were kind of busy wondering when he was going to let you in on the secret. 

Now, here you are deep in thought of how the hell that thing is going to fit anywhere while simultaneously one hundred percent willing to make it fit because god, does he know how to makeout and feel someone up. 

The more he kisses you, the more his hands roam, the more you experience intimate touches with him, the more you feel like your skin is on fire and replacing that intimidation with extreme arousal and lust. All the way until the point that the presumed makeout playlist starts over and he finally pushes a bit further with you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, now slotting himself entirely between your legs and essentially pressing his length directly against the pool that is threatening to seep through your fucking denim shorts. 

You give him a half nod, trying to pretend that he’s definitely a normal man with a normal cock. He smiles though, knowing full well that this isn’t what you were expecting. No one ever expects it from him. 

“You seem occupied,” he comments, pressing himself against you a little more and leaning down on his arms to nip at your lips. “or shocked, maybe?”

You try to kiss him to shut him up, not wanting to expose yourself for being entirely inexperienced with a size like his. 

“Hm?” He encourages you, pulling back again and looking directly into your eyes with a confident smirk. 

“Well,” you shift your eyes away and sigh out, “you’re kind of huge…” 

He takes that compliment and runs with it. It’s not like the two of you have to finally have sex or anything, but you both knew what was happening and you both definitely knew what the other wanted. At least ten minutes ago that was the situation.

“Is it too much?” He asks, this time a bit more concerned that his own biology could ruin this for you. 

“Probably? no, maybe?” 

Jaeyun pulls away from you, moving himself to sit back against the couch and give you your space. Considering probably and maybe isn’t a yes, he feels no need to push or pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. There have been times where he’s hurt another person while being intimate, though not intentionally, he’s not exactly willing to do that to you unless you’re like, you know, jumping his bones for it. 

“Still, i’d like to try–” You start, looking at him as you sit up and feel your entire body tingle at the cold air that replaces his warmth. “Maybe if we take it slow– like, really slow?”

He looks at you with shining eyes. He asked you to be his girlfriend because he genuinely likes you. He likes your voice, he likes the way you smell, likes when you talk about your favorite songs and favorite movies. He was definitely smitten from the moment he saw you trip on your own two feet down the front porch of a house party months ago. Taking it slow with you was pretty normal, and the fact that you want him too just makes him all the more willing to take his time. 

“I’ll take care of you, ” he hums, spreading his legs a bit across the couch to give himself more space to re-adjust himself. “Just tell me if I need to slow down?” 

You nod, staring directly between his legs and rubbing your own together on instinct. If anyone’s gonna split you open, it might as well be your boyfriend.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When he said he would take it slow with you, he really meant it. The fact that he curled three fingers into you for a solid twenty minutes and you still feel like your legs will buckle on you at any moment knowing that this is just for prep– oh damn. 

 The fact that he even used his tongue on you for the first time, making sure you were more slippery than you already were for another twenty minutes? The fucking fact that you were on the verge of orgasm when he pulled it out and presented it to you like a cock you could totally sit on without issue? 

Fuck.

Reality washes over you far too quickly when you actually make that attempt. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like you were being torn apart by him, but part of you loves the way his gentle hands hold you steady as you try to sink down. You can feel the wet heat between your legs coat his length inch by inch as you start to slide down.

He stops you only for a moment when he notices you wincing. 

“Breathe, baby, just a little more.” He encourages, getting a nod from you before guiding you down further.

You breathe, clenching around him and doing your best to stop doing that so you can relax. You can tell he’s struggling to actually take it slow by now too, only because you can feel his hands shake against you as he holds himself back from obliterating you, probably. You’d think it would be quite endearing to see, if it weren’t for the fact that your eyes are blurring from the tears threatening to fall. 

Feeling embarrassed, you wipe your eyes and focus on how he feels inside of you. The pain is still there, but as you “sit” here, that pain somehow does replace itself with a strange sensation of pleasure little by little. You’ve always wondered what it felt like to be full, and it appears that this is exactly it.

It’s overwhelming.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks after noticing your tears, a bit of panic in his voice despite the fact that you could have sworn hearing a moan come out alongside it, “Pull up, it’s okay, you can–”

You sink down further instead, now bottoming yourself out on him and releasing a broken whine of both pain and pleasure. He grunts in unison to your whine, gripping your hips even harder than he already was and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, lazily opening his eyes to look at the way you perch yourself on him so perfectly. “Such a tight fit.” 

You nod, mostly unable to hear a word he’s saying as you try to relax your body enough to get rid of that small hint of pain. The consistent clenching of your adjustments send your boyfriend spiraling a bit, unable to contain his sighs of pleasure as your tight and wet heat squeezes his cock.

“Tell me when I can move, please, tell me–” He groans out almost frantically, staring down at where you sit flush against him and wanting so badly to fuck into you.

 He’s wanted to do this to you since you started dating, now that it’s finally happening, and now that you’re quite literally jerking him off simply by adjusting to his size– you know, it’s not exactly easy to contain himself. 

You take a few more seconds to breathe before your body finally relaxes and you give him a reluctant nod. 

Instantly it’s like you’re seeing stars. He barely moves, all he does is flex his abs and press his hips up and it’s like he manages to fit another non-existent inch inside of you. 

You groan out, falling forward against his chest and gripping onto his shoulders as you feel your body adjust to even that small movement. To you, this is so fucking embarrassing, but to him? 

Hottest thing ever. Really. 

He can hear your whiny gasps against his neck when he moves and it’s driving him fucking wild, especially considering the fact that his cock is driven so deeply inside of you that he thinks you’d tell him to stop— but you don’t. 

You’re so good to him, and for what it’s worth, he wants to make sure this will be the best orgasm of your life.

Slowly, his hands fall to your ass and guide you up. You feel slight relief as a few inches leave you, and your stomach bubbles with that same sensation of both pleasure and pain when he slides you back down.

He moans out at you, almost like he’s cooing in pity at how much you’re trying to take for him. It’s incredibly sexy to hear now that your ears have stopped ringing and you’re beginning to believe that you’d never want anything smaller than him anyway.

This time, you lift on your own and sink back down just as fast, wincing again against his neck but releasing a moan that sounds more like pleasure than anything else. He sees this as a green light, gripping your ass and encouraging you to lift slightly again.

“Stay like this.” he mutters with a deep breath before kissing against your forehead and thrusting his hips up once, hard. 

The tight heat you’re offering sends him into a frenzy when paired with the wet slap of his pelvis hitting your pussy, and the sounds you’re making offer little in terms of stopping because by now, you’re both loving it. 

He thrusts into you with ease, the drag loud and slippery, the moans of pleasure you release only make him go faster, harder. Almost releasing a whimper of his own at how fucking perfect you are for taking all of it.

“Look.” he tries to let out, waiting for you to pull yourself up from his chest and look at him.

You do with ease, that broken face from before now replaced with lustful and blown out pupils. 

“Look how good you take it,” he praises with a groan, almost punctuating each word with a thrust, “knew you could take it.” 

Your broken smile that falls into a slack mouthed string of nonsense only continues to push him.  All the way until you can’t think straight at all, and you’re feeling your body tense up with such pressure that you can’t even warn him before your walls are clenching so tightly that it even hurts him. 

You grasp onto him for dear life as your orgasm washes over you, drenching his entire length as you hold your breath. Never have you gotten off while feeling so fucking full, and arguably, you don’t think you could ever feel an orgasm so intense without him being the one to split you open.

“There you go baby.” he hums, watching you breathlessly fall apart on top of him before picking up his rhythm again and chasing his own high.

By this point, you’re so well adjusted that even the searing pain of his restless thrusts feel good. Your brain is foggy but you can’t help but just fucking watch him.

This is your boyfriend and this is what it looks like when you’re making him feel good. 

“Are you close?” you start to bounce on him, meeting his rhythm and allowing him to rest his own hips. 

He nods as he looks at you, awestruck with how you’re already able to ride him as if you weren’t whining just moments before. Seeing you take him in full like this is enough to have his cock pulsing.

“Just a bit more, baby.” He closes his eyes and runs his hands up your waist. “Keep riding me, fuck.” 

And that, you do. Feeling proud of yourself for being able to actually take this literal monster, you focus on the twitch inside of you as he releases with a deep and breathy moan.

It’s entirely too sexy to ignore, and you continue to bounce even as he tries to hold you in place to subdue the sensitivity of his cock being fucking strangled by how tight you are. 

Once his body stops jerking and you feel the last twitching release inside of you, you fall forward and both of you groan from the sensitivity. 

“There are pros and cons to having a big dick, i guess.” he admits in a groan. 

Even when you laugh, there’s another wince from both of you followed by a groan.

“Pros: big dick.” he whispers, holding you still against him so you don’t move again before he can soften up and pull out. “Cons: big dick.” 

You still laugh, and it still hurts. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

me and my lame ass endings lmfaooooooooooooooooo

[ayrastv]

period? no problem.

sypnosis : the hsr men try to make your periods feel just a little bit better!

content : periods (duh!!), blood stains, just a bunch of fluff :3

pairings : aventurine, dr ratio, jing yuan, dan heng

tagging @lia-loves !

AVENTURINE ೀ

“what the..” you groan, your sleep disturbed by a sharp pain in your chest as you sit up. suddenly, you feel something strange between your legs— fuck.

you had completely forgotten your period was coming soon and did not bring pads when you were staying over at your boyfriends place.

and not only that, theres now a dark red stain on his expensive sheets.. oh no, what do i do..?

in panic, you get up and attempt to remove the stain, your cramps aren’t helping and his sheets are pure white, everything you do is futile.

suddenly, you hear aventurine yawn, his eyes opening from the noise. “mmf.. name?” his head turns to you, and then the red stain.

don’t get me wrong, aventurine isn’t completely stupid. but does he look like the guy to know anything about periods?

of course, his first thought is to panic, bombarding you with questions.

“why are you bleeding?” he asks hastily. “are you hurt?” he looks so worried, and you have to explain to him what a period is..

once you explain however, he feels a bit silly. all that panicking for what?

“ahhh, i see.” he chuckles. “well thats my bad..dont worry about the sheets, ill replace them.” he smirks at the apologetic look on your face, reassuring you its okay. he’s rich anyway!

“so uh..you need pads?” he asks, a little confused.

“yes aven, make sure you get the one with the wings.”

“the wings? okay.. what brand?” it was honestly cute seeing him so clueless. “any is fine.”

“do you need anything else?” he strokes your back, god he makes you fold so effortlessly. “maybe ibuprofen and some snacks…” you ask shyly.

“yes ma’am.” he teases you, making you smack his arm but its alright, hes overall pretty sweet, he takes some time to get used to your mood swings but he tries to lower the teasing by a notch.

VERITAS RATIO ೀ

you guys were chilling on his couch, he agreed to watch some movies with you. it was hard convincing him because he thought it was ‘a waste of time’.

you move closer to him, now holding onto his arm. you think the pain in your stomach is from the horror movie, but the feeling between your legs does not go unnoticed.

you’re not sure what to do, you’re hesitant to tell your boyfriend about it but ratio picks up on your uneasiness.

“is something the matter?” he raises an eyebrow. “if you don’t like the movie, we can stop no-“ you shake your head.

“um, veritas..” you look away. “im..on my period.” you admit shyly.

he immediately understands, nodding. he offers to help you clean up, preparing a nice bath for you. while you’re in the bath, he prepares his fresh clothes and a towel.

and you don’t have to tell him, he’s already out to the nearest medic store buying you pads (with wings) and medicine.

prepares some warm tea for you aswell while were at it.

you’re honestly baffled at how gentle and caring he is. ratio is a smart man, and he has studied about women periods so he knows how to take care of you and make you feel better.

definitely cuddles you after and reads a book to you.

JING YUAN ೀ

you were at your home when you got your periods, your boyfriend was on general duty currently even though he wishes he was with you instead.

you were curled up into a little ball on your bed, these cramps are gonna be the death of you, you swear.

you finally found the strength to get up and take some ibuprofen—only to find out you’ve run out. can your day get any worse? it does.

you decide you’ll live, its just some cramps after all.

you go to change your pad— youve run out pads now. isnt this great!

you’re FUMING with anger right now, these periods are making your blood boil and you really want to punch something, you take out your phone and immediately click on your boyfriend’s contact.

“home with pads and ibuprofen.”

“NOW.”

if jing yuan had to ever be scared of a text message, it would be this one. he doesn’t bother to think twice before he excuses himself from the seat of divine foresight.

he grabs the pads you need and ibuprofen and he welcomes himself inside your home.

he dares not to say anything as he hands you the items (as well as some snacks.)

you’re a little less angry once you change your pad and take some ibuprofen, you demand some cuddles and affection and all is well!

DAN HENG ೀ

you got your periods while he was away for a mission.

you didn’t wanna worry him or stray him away from his mission so you decided not to let him know, you didn’t want him to mess up afterall.

but of course, he soon found out because of himeko, as your boyfriend it was his job to take care of you! so you did get a lecture later for not telling him.

he asked himeko if she could take his place in the mission while he takes care of you, she said yes, teasing him about being smitten for you which caused a blush to spread across his cheeks.

he’d help you do mundane things, even if you were capable of doing them. he didn’t want you to lift a finger at all.

he let you chill with him at the data bank, he tells you about some unknown species from different planets while you rest your head on his lap.

instead of listening to his yap though, you fall asleep to his voice. his voice eased your cramps somehow, he’s just really calming to be around.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @less-chaotic-brain @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx

(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled)

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n is feeling sick and Oscar is worried so they go to the doctor and find out that y/n is pregnant

thanks for your request babes!

tw: fem!reader, pregnancy (yes that is it's own warning), sick and being sick, swears maybe, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.6k

you were sick constantly, whether it be a headache, or stomachache, feeling like you just had a general cold or literally vomiting it felt like you were feeling one of them all of the time, in a cruel rotation.

the only times you were actually sick and not just feeling nauseous was when you had drank a little too much (and were maybe on the verge of alcohol poisoning) or if your period cramps were so bad, it made you sick.

you were surmising that it was the latter as you sat on the cold flooring of the bathroom. one hand was clutching the toilet seat and the other was holding your hair back to prevent it from hanging in your face. you had never really been sick before your period had actually started before but you had felt a mild discomfort in your abdomen and had chalked it up to that, even though the pain was nothing like what you usually experienced during that time of the month.

being sick in the hotel bathroom as oscar slept in the next room, resting for the race later on in the day was not how you had planned on spending the morning but it seemed like that was what was going to happen. you were not alone for long though as the australian padded through once his body registered the warmth missing from the bed. he calls your name and you try to reply but you feel surge of sickness wash through you as you hunch over the seat. the bathroom door is closed but oscar knows that if he asks if he can come inside, you would just tell him no. he comes in anyways.

you hear a consoling hum as you retch again, oscar's hand replacing the one holding your hair back, his spare hand coming to rub big, comforting circles on your back, encouraging you to bring it all up.

you whimper through your spells of sickness as you finally feel the urge to be sick ebb away. you rest your weak body against oscar's as his hand continues its soft movements. oscar's mouth presses many light kisses into your hair as he lets you rest on the floor to recover.

"y'alright, love?" oscar asks after a few beats of still silence. he feels a nod against his chest.

"think it's just my time of the month coming." you inform him. you feel oscar's hum of disagreement before you hear it. it confuses you.

"you're not due your period for another week and a bit yet, honey." oscar tells you. you feel too sick to even acknowledge that he knows your cycle off by heart. this would be something you would review when you felt a little better.

"must've come earlier. 've got the cramps and the sickness, just waiting for the blood. you know what it's like anyways, it only really lasts a day then i'm alright again." you mumble as you pick yourself up and grab your toothbrush, desperate to get the vomit taste out of your mouth. oscar stands behind you, supporting you the entire time. he nods at your words and does not tell you that he thinks it is a little weird that you were getting your usual period symptoms but not the actual period. he just prays you are better once you have had a nap. you both head back to the bed and oscar pulls you to his own body so tightly you would think you had a habit of running off and leaving him in the middle of the night.

it turns out that you are not better once you guys wake back up and you do not even feel well enough to make it to the paddock to watch your boyfriend race. although oscar has his reservations about you leaving you alone in the hotel room when you were not feeling the best, there was not much he could really do. it was not like he could just take the day off to nurse you back to health with his comforting and warm touch. you watch the race from the hotel room, cheering him on and home when he gets p4, narrowly missing out on a podium.

"you'll get them next time." is your first words to him when he returns to the hotel room, later on that afternoon. oscar just grunts and questions you about your wellbeing. after you tell him you do not feel any better and that you maybe even feel a little more sick than what you did this morning, he knows this is nothing to do with your monthly cycle. he is not exactly sure what it could be but he knows he has to get you to a doctor as soon as you were both back home.

the flight home was probably one of the worst travelling experiences you have ever had in your entire life. oscar held your hand the whole way home but it did nothing to ease the cramps in your stomach and the sicky feeling resting in your throat. as soon as the plane was touching your home soil and oscar had internet again he booked an emergency appoinement at the doctors for you, not wanting you to have to go a second longer without relief than what you need to.

oscar just takes you both straight to the doctor's office, bags full of your clothes from the weekend flung in the backseat and boot of the car as he parks up in the car park opposite the office. with the way oscar was acting and treating you, some would think you were on deaths door.

oscar urges you to sit as he explains your problems to the receptionist. after a few moments the boy joins you, leg jumping in nerves.

"'y'seem more nervous than me, osc. i'll be fine." you tell him, hand coming to stop his restless leg. oscar smiles at you, kind but his eyes are full of nerves.

"i know. just want you better now instead of later, honey." oscar's hand coming to rest atop yours.

it is not too log after that the doctor comes out and asks you to follow her into the own office at the end of a very long and very white corridor.

the doctor tells you both to make yourself comfortable in the seats in front of you as oscar immediately jumps into rhyming off all of your symptoms and what you had both thought it was previously.

"so you had thought it was just period pains but your period hasn't come yet?" she checks, earning a nod from you and oscar in unison. she frowns in thought before her next words come and take you and oscar, both by surprise.

"and have you taken a pregnancy test?" she asks. you look at her shocked at the words, never even taking the premise of being pregnant into consideration. now that she had mentioned it all these symptoms did all point towards being pregnant. oscar turns his head to face you, hand still gripping yours from when he had helped you along the corridor but now his hold felt like it was ten times tighter.

you clear your throat before you reply, "uh, no i didn't even think about that being a possibility." you tell her honestly. she grins back and walks over to a drawer attached to some cabinet neat the door. she pulls out a more medical looking pregnancy test.

"it's alright, this happens more often than you would think. why don't you go and pee on this and we can tell you for sure if it is that or if we should start looking into something else entirely." the doctor hands you the test and leads you into a toilet just across the hallway. oscar waits nervously in the office with the doctor.

you return a few minutes later, hands shaking as you hand the test to the doctor. you sit back down on the chair as your hand slinks towards oscar's again, longing to feel that familiar touch, sending waves of solace through your nervous body.

the words echo around your brain as the doctor confirms that you are in fact pregnant. it feels like every single emotions runs through you at the news and you really do not know what to think right now. you think you hear the doctor say that she would give you both a minute and then the close of the door, meaning you and oscar were alone. you try and blink yourself back down to earth.

"i'm pregnant." you say, still not believing it. oscar has tears in his eyes as he nods and brings you into a crushing hug, before he loosens it, not wanting to crush his baby even though you were no where near close to showing yet.

"aren't we too young, oscar? are you sure you want this with me?" you worry, hands wringing at the back of his neck.

"i've never doubted that you were the person that i wanted to do this with. it might be a little earlier than i planned but i swear this is all i've ever wanted since i asked you out." oscar admits with a heavy voice and teary eyes. you canot even help but grin at his words.

you were still petrified but at least you had oscar in this and you knew he was here every single step of the way. there was no one else better to do any of this with than him, that you were one hundred percent sure of.

[samkerrworshipper]

bar-ca

alexia putellas x reader x putellas!child

no warnings just my first kidfic so no judgement

The sound of the bottle sanitizer whirring hurts your brain.

The four month sleep regression is no joke, the non-stop crying, the no sleep, the teething pain. It’s the pains of motherhood that nobody has ever brought up to you.

Everything hurt.

Your head from the lack of sleep, your boobs from constantly being sucked dry, your body from rocking a baby all night who had no intentions of going to sleep.

You just couldn’t understand why little Lili wouldn’t sleep.

You’d tried it all, sleep training, sleep school, nannies, co-sleeping.

None of it worked, Liliana was just set on running yours, and her other mothers life.

You groaned as the machine pinged, signalling that it was done cleaning out the bottles.

You grabbed the one closest to you and poured the water you’d already warmed and the scoops of the formula into the bottle.

Formula really was your saving grace, although the effort to put it all together was something tat you felt was unnecessary, it was the expense of giving your boobs a break.

You were grateful enough that Lili took formula, because according to most of the women in your mothers group you were very fortunate.

You shook up the bottle until the formula had all dispersed evenly.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t take a moment to yourself, setting the bottle down on the counter and leaning over, enjoying the rare moment of silence in the putellas household.

You knew that you should be grateful, grateful that you were in a position where you could spend so much time with your newborn, that you could spend so much of this valuable time with your biggest treasure, but it didn’t make it any easier.

You were the main parent, Alexia had a football career, games, trainings, media commitments, leaving you at home with Lili constantly. You were starting to get some cabin fever, and a little bit of annoyance with your baby who was always crying.

You’d thought it was croup, but no, Lili just cried and cried and cried, and a lot of the time you cried with her.

There were good moments, but that didn’t change the everyday constant exhaustion you had. The most annoying part though was that you were so attached to Lili that you couldn’t leave her for longer than an hour. You couldn’t explain it, but every time anybody had offered, Eli, Alba, Mapi, any of the girls of the team, and you’d tried to leave Lili with them you’d gone through the worst mom guilt imaginable. So, you were stuck, with a broody baby attached to your hip, pretty much at all times. It didn’t help either that Lili had been significantly premature as a baby, so not only had she been sick, but she’d also craved the constant skin to skin contact in her first weeks of life, only strengthening your connection to her.

Alexia tried her hardest to take the pressure off of you, but at the end of the day you were the one breast feeding, you were the one who had sacrificed her career for motherhood, you were the one with the stretch marks and body that had been wrecked by your daughter.

You picked up the bottle, knowing that the silence across your house would very quickly be replaced by screaming if you didn’t get the bottle to your hungry daughter soon.

You walked slowly through the house, making your way to your shared bedroom as slowly as possible.

You stopped in the hallway when you heard the sound of babbling and an occasional giggle coming from the inside of your bedroom.

The giggling was new, but it made the moments a little bit sweeter when you got to hear it, although Alexia was the one who mostly got it out of your daughter.

You turned the corner and smiled at the sight in front of you.

“It’s not funny liLI, i know you can do it, say it for me, bar-ca.”

You stopped yourself from laughing at the serious expression on your wifes face as she stared at your daughter expectantly.

All Lili did was laugh at her.

“It’s in your blood, you’re a culer, c’mon, you can say it.”

It was another new thing, the little babbles of syllables that would leave your daughters mouth, it was cute, and you’d been aiming for mama, but clearly Alexia had other intentions.

Lili just giggled again at Alexia’s pointed finger and the seriousness on her face.

“You can do it, do it for me, say it, cu-ler, or bar-ca.”

Lili contemplates for a second, before babbling something completely incomprehensible.

“I thought we were aiming for mama first?”

Alexia looked up at you, like she’d been caught red-handed.

She flushed red, and then laughed, and when Lili laughed along with her you didn’t have it in you to even try to tell her off.

“Barca is basically her mother, both of her mothers are curlers, culer is in her blood.”

You rolled your eyes effortlessly at Alexia, she wasn’t wrong, in fact the when you’d seen your daughter for the first time after waking up after birth, instead of being dressed in the previously picked outfit she’d been decked out in a miniscule barca jersey.

“I’m also her actual mother and I would like it if all of the sleep I’m losing to her would be used to at least say my name.”

Alexia nodded, she couldn’t really argue your point, it was smarter for her to just agree with you.

You stepped up onto the bed, looking at Lili, who was uncharacteristically bright for this time of day. You were hoping that you could get her milk drunk and hopefully she’d pass out, but you also were aware that your chances were slim.

You reached for her, noticing the way that her face immediately dropped as you lifted her from Alexia’s arms.

Just as she looked like she was about to burst into tears, you pushed the bottle nipple into her mouth, watching as her face immediately relaxed.

You sunk back against your pillows, happy now that she was able to hold herself up without fully relying on leaning on you.

Alexia leant over, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“How about I take her to training with me? She can sit in the gym with me and one of the staff or injured players can watch her whilst were out on the pitch. You can get a shower, sleep, go for a walk if you want, go see your mami or mine?”

You shook your head.

“You insinuating that I smell, Putellas?”

Alexia shook her head against your forehead.

“I’m insinuating that you need to give yourself a break, let me take her for the day, it’ll be fine, I’m just as much her mother as you are, take a break for yourself, si?”

You felt sick at the idea, but you couldn’t deny the need you had to get some proper, undisturbed sleep.

“Plus, you know how desperate all fo her aunties have been to see our girl, she’ll be saying the words barca by the end of the day.”

Your eyes shot open.

“Alexia Putellas Segura, I am not joking, if she says any words besides mama as her first ones than you will be on night duty for the next month, away games be damned, am I understood?”

Alexia pouted.

“I can’t help it if she’s destined to be a barca player and already knows it.”

You let one of your eyebrows raise.

“Alexia.”

She frowned again, but nodded her head.

“You let me take her, and I’ll get her to say mama, deal?”

You bit your lip, as much as parting ways with your daughter terrified you, as needy as she was, you were so desperate to get a proper run in, or a proper workout, or some proper sleep and proper food that wasn’t ordered off of your phone.

“I want her back in one piece by the end of the day, and with the same amount of barca memorabilia she already has in her wardrobe, and I want her aunties to not indocrinate her, okay?”

Alexia smiled, already bouncing out of bed.

“Finish her feed and we’ll be off, we’re going to have such a good day lili baby, just you and mommy day.”

You rolled your eyes, looking down at the baby in your arms, who was looking at her mommy curiously.

“She’s crazy lil, don’t you listen to her, your mama’s forever, even if you cry for the rest of your life.”

[heich0e]

tomura tries to sneak out of your apartment one morning before you wake up, because he has to get all the way back to his apartment before his dad shows up to take him to a 9AM yoga class.

god forbid he be forced to explain:

a) why he slept over at an apartment that was not his own to his father (toshinori would be calling wedding venues and asking his assistant to look into your ring size before they'd even made it to the yoga studio)

nor b) the fact that he was going to a fucking yoga class at 9 o'clock in god damn the morning with his dad, to you.

he slips out of your bed soundlessly, moving as carefully as possible not to wake you. it pains him to do it. really, it does. your sheets are warm, and soft, and smell like you. and you're still there resting so peacefully, tucked under them, breathing soundly with your face burrowed into the collar of his hoodie that you'd worn to bed the night before. you look so pretty like this, tomura had spent at least half an hour just staring at you while he was laying next to you in your treacherously comfortable bed, and would have happily spent another hour more doing it.

there are very few forces on earth that could tear tomura out of bed like this, but the mortifying prospect of having to explain to his over-enthusiastic father that he has a girlfriend is certainly one of them.

he creeps out of your room and into the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and using the lotion that you keep next to the sink that makes his skin feel so nice. you started buying a bigger bottle lately, now that the two of you are both using it, and you never mentioned it but tomura still noticed when the little tube was replaced by a larger version of the same product. next he reaches for the toothbrush that he's started keeping next to yours, double checking the hour on his phone to make sure he wasn't running out of time.

he contemplates stealing one last peek at you in bed before he leaves, but he knows that if he doesn't leave now he won't have time to change his clothes before his dad shows up outside his place, so he heads straight to your front door once he's done in the washroom.

you're standing in his path before he can get to it.

you've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can still see the soft skin of your thighs where the hem of his hoodie hangs peeking out from underneath the edges of it. there's a little frown tugging the corners of your mouth down.

tomura freezes in his tracks.

"going somewhere?" you ask him, your voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from sleep.

oh, fuck.

"morning," he mumbles, a bit nervously, as you pin him in your stare.

"it is," you reply, as though agreeing with him. "early, even. so why are you sneaking out of my apartment like a burglar?"

tomura rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "i, uh, gotta be somewhere."

"you have to be somewhere?" you repeat, a bit incredulously—like the words don't quite compute. you don't seem mad at all, just thoroughly bewildered by the whole strange situation. "tomu, we went three rounds last night and you're awake before two PM on a weekend. are you okay?"

"'course i'm okay," he rushes to get out, tripping over his words.

"did I like... do something? or is there someone el—"

"are you kidding?" tomura's voice cracks and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he reaches out and grabs the edge of the blanket you have wrapped around you, his fingers twisting into it desperately. he knows you can't possibly—can't reasonably—think that he's seeing anybody else when the fact that he even landed someone like you is an honest to god miracle. the kind of underdog success story they make multi-part docuseries on.

tomura groans, shuffling forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder as he snakes his arms underneath the blanket around your frame to hold you close.

"you're being weird, tomu," you say quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag lightly against his scalp in that way that makes him want to shiver.

"fuck, I know, I know,"—he buries his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing in shakily—"'m not being sketchy or anything."

"you are," you remark lightly. "it's not that I don't trust you, I'm just confused."

tomura mumbles something, but the words are lost to the skin of your throat.

"what was that?" you ask.

tomura steels his nerve and takes one last long breath buried against your warmth. he pulls away and faces you.

"I have to go to a yoga class with my dad."

he loses his nerve about halfway through his admission, his eyes flickering away from yours to a point on the wall just above your front door, as a violent heat surges through his cheeks.

"a yoga class?"

he knows it sounds ridiculous. it is ridiculous. it may have been more believable to tell you he was going to hook up with someone el—

"why didn't you just say that?" your laughter cuts through his spiralling thoughts like a morning alarm.

his gaze snaps back to you, only to find you smiling softly.

"you... you're not...?" tomura isn't even sure what he's going to say. mad? surprised? convinced he's lying?

"i mean, i've noticed you've been looking kind of toned lately, but honestly i thought it's because we've been fucking so much," you scrunch your nose up a little. "yoga makes sense on both counts, though."

you turn and look across your apartment to the clock hanging on the wall.

"what time's your class?" you ask him, suddenly worried that this impromptu interrogation may have made him late. "i didn't mean to—"

tomura grabs either side of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and tugs you forward, pressing his mouth to yours while your lips are still parted in speech.

(he doesn't make it to class that morning after all.)

[magiccath]

TARDIS Tricks

Tenth Doctor/Reader (could be any Doctor if you squint)

Summary: In which the TARDIS pulls some matchmaking schemes

The last week had been exhausting. Life with the Doctor usually was, but this week was just a little too much for you. Not just you either, the Doctor was wiped out too.

He pushed the doors of the TARDIS open with a tired sigh, throwing his long brown coat over one of the numerous coral-like branches littered throughout the control room. Then, he made a b-line for his worn-out captain’s chair, slumping into it dramatically. His long, spindly legs stretched out in front of him, making him appear taller than he was - if that was even possible. The way he stretched was more than akin to the characteristics of the cats you had encountered.

You weren’t much more energetic about your entrance, throwing your coat next to his and moving to slump against the circular console.

“Can we please take a break from the running?”

“We haven’t been running that much,” he groaned, though you could tell he was thinking the same thing. He might have ‘superior Time Lord biology’, but he was clearly as tired as you were. Maybe there was a limit to the running he could do.

“Daleks, New New York, then that weird Bio-tech company, followed by the literal end of the universe, and wrap it all up with diamond rain on Saturn.”

“Suppose there has been a lot of running,” the Doctor grumbled again, admitting defeat. “How about a day or two of rest? Get some sleep and relax a bit?”

You nodded, glad he finally understood what you were trying to say. All you wanted was to sleep for at least 8 hours uninterrupted. Ideally, 12 hours.

“Don’t fall asleep in that chair,” you scold, noticing how he already appeared to be half asleep, “you’ll get back pain and then you’ll be insufferable. Go to bed, I know you have one somewhere.”

The Doctor grumbled, not bothering to form a full and coherent sentence. You kicked his leg, not hard enough to truly hurt him, just enough to get him out of the chair. He grumbled again and sat up in the chair, stretching his slender arms above his head.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, already looking slightly more alert. Slightly. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, you decided to head off to your bedroom.

You walked slowly down one of the numerous, winding halls of the TARDIS. You’d walked to your room hundreds, if not thousands, of times by now. You knew exactly where it was, and it wasn’t there. In the space where your door would normally be was… nothing. You tapped around the wall, wondering if perhaps the Doctor replaced your normal door with some kind of seamless door mechanism.

When the wall didn’t yield you let out a frustrated grunt, “What did you do?” you asked the TARDIS, resting your hands on the smooth surface of her walls. The wall was cold to the touch, colder than usual that is. Normally, you felt something when you touched her. The best way you could describe it was a presence. But, at the moment, you felt nothing.

Aggravated, you sulked your way back to the control room.

“Where is my room?” you glared at the Doctor, hands on your hips. Normally, you’d play along. Hide his Sonic Screwdriver or coat somewhere he couldn’t find it. This time, you were far too tired to humor him.

“What d’ya mean?” the Doctor frowned in confusion. “Did you get lost in the hallways again?”

“No, I know where my own room is and it’s not there!”

The Doctor’s frown deepened as he got up from his seat, brushing past you and into the hallway. He took long strides down the corridor, stopping in front of where your room normally was. He slipped his glasses out of his inner pocket, sliding the specs onto the bridge of his nose. His head tilted to the side as his hands ran over the smooth wall, examining the space with his characteristic curiosity.

“Did you do this?”

“What? No, why would I steal your room?” He peered over his shoulder, almost offended that you would suggest such a thing.

“You’ve done weirder things,” you argued, crossing your arms.

“Name one,” the Doctor challenged, mirroring your defensive stance.

“The time you put a pigeon in my shower,” you responded immediately, not needing time to think about weird things the Time Lord had done. It was one of the things you liked best about him, he was constantly strange. It made things fun, but it could also make things incredibly aggravating.

“He needed a bath. Have you met pigeons? They’re filthy.”

“Wash your pigeons in your own shower!”

“That's… that’s not the point here,” he mumbled, clearly deflecting the conversation. “Your room is missing.”

“I noticed,” you deadpanned, not looking away from him. “Can I have it back?”

“I told you, I didn’t take it.” The Doctor threw his hands up defensively.

“Rooms don’t just walk away,” you say, glaring at him. By now, your irritation was bordering on anger. All you wanted to do was fall into your soft bed and not leave until this exhaustion wore off, but you needed a bed to do that.

“Maybe the TARDIS sorted it away,” he shrugged. As if accentuating his point, the TARDIS let out a soft hum. You weren’t even sure it was real at first, maybe it was just the air conditioning kicking on.

“Did she just…?”

The Doctor nodded, confirming your theory that the TARDIS had responded to him. What reason did she have for storing your room away? You were about 98% sure that you still lived on the ship.

“Is this her way of kicking me out?” The TARDIS let out another hum, this one in clear disapproval. Not kicking you out, then.

You let out a small sigh of relief. You’d never admit it, but you had never felt more at home anywhere else in your life. Realistically, that wasn’t because of the TARDIS. It was the Doctor, he could make any place feel like home to you.

“Well then, can I have my room back please?” you asked the TARDIS

The corridor was silent. In fact, the whole ship was silent, if that was even possible.

Something you learned early on in your travels with the Doctor was that the TARDIS was the one really in charge. What she says goes. Always. It doesn’t matter if you were promised a beach vacation and ended up in the middle of winter in Victorian England. And it most certainly didn’t matter if you wanted a bedroom or not. She was a force to be reckoned with, and you respected that.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the library, we can deal with this in the morning.” You decided it was easier to just let the TARDIS work through whatever tantrum or scheme she was cooking up. Sometimes when traveling with the Doctor it was better to just go with the flow - and that didn’t just apply to ship malfunctions or sleeping arrangements.

You trudged down the corridor, heading for the vast library. It really was an impressive library, even better than the one in Beauty and the Beast. Shelves lined the walls and extended up high for multiple stories. It was easy to get lost in the room because it was so large. Most of the time you just asked the TARDIS for directions if you needed a specific book. Mostly, you just used it as a calm and quiet place to take a break between your chaotic adventures with the Doctor.

Usually, there were at least three couches in the room at a time. Your favorite was a mustard yellow, not a particularly nice color (especially for a couch), but it was beyond comfortable. The issue was that the couch wasn’t there. Furthermore, there wasn’t any couch in the large room.

“Doctor!” you call out loudly, staring blankly at the space where there should be a couch. There were small circles on the wood where the legs of the couch would normally sit, leading you to assume that you weren’t going crazy. The TARDIS had stolen your room and now your favorite couch.

“What’s the issue now?” the Doctor grumbled, rubbing his face tiredly as he strode into the library. He came to a standstill next to you, staring at the empty floor with equal confusion.

“She got rid of the couch.”

“I can see that,” the Doctor said, his eyebrows raising in interest.

“I’m exhausted, I'm grumpy, and I just want to sleep,” you whisper urgently, almost on the verge of tears. It felt silly to be upset over such a small thing, but you were beyond tired. Your brain was functioning on sheer willpower and that was quickly running out.

“I know, I know,” the Doctor whispered sympathetically, gently lifting your face up to look at him. “Look, you can sleep in my room. She hasn’t taken that.”

“That's where you sleep,” you point out, trying not to show how flustered the endearing touch had made you.

“Normally, yes,” the Doctor smiled slightly, finding your response slightly comical. “It’s a nice bed, though I’m not sure it would matter much to you either way at this point.”

“Where would you sleep?” You frown, knowing that he needs the sleep just as much as you do, even if he would never admit it.

“I don’t need to-” he started but cut off once he saw your glare. “I can sleep in the console room, that chair isn’t really that bad,” he amended.

“You’ll hurt your back, I already told you not to fall asleep there.”

“It’s not like we have any other options,” the Doctor shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He would do anything for you, sleeping on a chair that hurt his back was nothing in comparison.

“I’m not letting you sleep in the chair,” you insisted, crossing your arms defensively. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“No one is sleeping in the chair!” the Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I could just sleep on the floor, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, I’m not letting you do that,” he said seriously.

“What do you propose then?”

“Well… we could…” the Doctor trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. By now, you knew it as one of his many nervous tics. “We could share the bed,” he finally said, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Share your bed?”

The Doctor nodded, still not fully looking at you. At this point, you were too tired to question it, or even really think about it.

“Can we even do that? Are you ok with that?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. As you’re comfortable with it,” he said back, his tone only slightly less panicked. He wasn’t even sure when the last time he shared a bed was.

“Alright,” you whisper with a slight blush.

“I’ve never seen your room,” you add after a few seconds.

“You haven’t?”

You shake your head, “it could be a torture dungeon for all I know.”

“It’s- it’s not-” he struggled before realizing you were joking. “It’s a normal bedroom,” he whispered, already walking out of the library.

You smile to yourself and follow him down the hall, the only sound the soft tap of your footsteps. His room wasn’t far from where yours would normally be, just a few turns down the hall and to the left. The door was the same blue as the TARDIS, almost identical to the front doors of the ship.

The Doctor opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it ajar so you could follow.

Whatever you had expected when it came to the Doctor’s room, it wasn’t this. Almost every square inch of the place was covered with things. Gadgets and gizmos, rocks, keys, books, alien-looking things, and-

“Is that Starry Night?” you frown, looking at a framed picture leaning against a corner.

“Oh, yeah, Vincent gave that to me,” the Doctor shrugged like he didn’t have one of the most recognizable paintings in all of history on his bedroom floor.

“Isn’t it supposed to be in the MoMa?”

“That one’s fake. Don't tell anyone though, I’m not really supposed to have this one,” the Doctor shrugged, undoing his tie and slipping it off his neck. You tried to not follow the movement with your eyes, the nimble movement of his hands as he undid the knot capturing your attention.

You looked away embarrassed, turning your attention back to the painting. “Did you steal Starry Night?!”

“No, I told you, Vincent gave it to me,” he frowned at you, wondering if the exhaustion was finally getting to you. He had just told you that.

“And you just… decided to keep it on your bedroom floor? Next to your trash can and first editions of Lord Of The Rings?”

“That’s not a trash can, it’s an artifact from B-739. Priceless, don’t touch it.”

“Right, 'cause that’s the priceless item in here that I’m worried about accidentally defacing.”

“If you’re going to bully my possessions, I’m not gonna let you sleep in here,” he grumbled, a pout barely evident on his face.

“I’ll shut up,” you say, looking around the rest of the room. You kept your comments to yourself, instead taking the time to admire the strange collection of things the Doctor kept in his room. It was like a personal museum of all of time and space. That is if the museum prioritized shiny objects and children’s toys from the early ‘90s.

It was all very him, and you couldn't help but feel safe in the room. Sure, you felt safe everywhere on the TARDIS, but this was different. If you could, you would have spent hours scouring every inch, wanting to learn everything you could about the Doctor.

You tugged your attention the the bed. It wasn’t a small bed, but it also wasn’t ridiculously large for one (albeit, strangely tall) Time Lord. The sheets were dark blue silk with a thick woolen blanket on top, also in a matching blue.

“Do you need PJs?” he asked, poking his head out of the closet he was currently in. The doors were a dark oak with a row of ties hanging on the inside of one. The patterns ranged anywhere from solid colors to cartoon characters from your childhood you had forgotten existed. You smiled as your eyes caught on a brightly colored tie with Winnie the Pooh on it.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you nod, turning your attention back to him. A few moments later he came back into the main room carrying two sets of PJs. You’d only seen the Doctor out of his trademark suit once or twice, for all you knew he just slept in it. Maybe he invented some kind of sleep suit, like a three-piece made entirely out of comfortable knit fabric.

He handed you one set of PJs, a classic striped set. He held in his hands another set, that one also striped, just in a different colorway. You’d never put much thought into what the Doctor wore to bed, but for some reason, this made sense to you.

“Bathroom’s over there,” he tilted his head in the direction of a door in the corner. You took the clothes and made your way over to the room, closing the door gently behind you, the ‘click’ reverberating through the silent space.

There wasn’t anything spectacular about the bathroom. By most standards, it was a perfectly ordinary bathroom. Even still, it’s clear to you who this bathroom belonged to. Various products (mostly ones for hair styling) were scattered across the countertop, but you didn’t feel like it was a mess.

There was a bright, puffy, flower-shaped rug in front of the sink that reminded you of something you might find in a Barbie Dollhouse circa 2002. In contrast, the shower curtain was a bright striped pattern that reminded you of a beach ball. In any other room, the decorations wouldn’t have matched, but knowing this was the Doctor’s doing made it all make sense to you.

You slipped the pajamas on quickly. You looked a little ridiculous in the Doctor’s clothes, like you were playing dress up in his closet. They didn’t fit you perfectly, but that much was expected. Even still, the fabric smelled like the Doctor, leaving you with the aching feeling that he was hugging you. You pressed your nose against the sleeve, breathing in the familiar smell before realizing you were smelling the Time Lord’s pajamas.

You shook yourself out of it and exited the bathroom, poking your head tentatively into the main room. The Doctor was sitting on the bed, having already changed into his PJs. His head turned at the sound of the door, smiling slightly at the sight of you.

“Do y’a need anything else?” he asked.

You shook your head, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Seeing him sitting there, on the bed, made it all seem real. You couldn’t do this. How could you share a bed with the man you had the biggest crush on ever?

“I- well, I can’t-” you stammered, trying to put your thoughts into words. Your brain was tired and panicking, the combination leaving you unable to fully express anything. “I can just sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, just get in the bed.”

You shift anxiously, tugging at the sleeve of the PJs he gave you. There was no way to explain it to him without admitting your feelings. It was a double-edged sword. Or maybe it was paradoxical. It didn’t really matter.

Begrudgingly, you slide under the covers next to him. You lay like a corpse, your hands firmly tucked at your side as you stare up at the ceiling. He had those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. They weren’t even just haphazardly stuck up there, he took the time to form them into actual constellations. The ones that he’d shown you up close.

You felt a twinge in your heart. It took everything in you not to turn to your side and hug him right now. His hugs felt like oxygen to you. You could be having the worst day ever, but a hug from your favorite alien never failed to brighten it.

The Doctor turned the bedside lamp off, sending the room into darkness. Your eyes were still glued to the stars, their soft glow highlighting them against the black of the room. He settled down in the bed next to you. You felt every single shift as he got comfortable, the feeling of him next to you distracting. It was hard not to think about how much you liked the Time Lord when you were literally in his bed. It was impossible not to feel his presence next to you, the weight of another person weighing down your mind.

“You ok?” the Doctor whispered, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. Maybe if you said it, it would be true.

You felt his hand slide against yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. You didn’t dare move, you didn’t even pull your gaze from the cluster of glow-in-the-dark stars above your head. Tentatively, he slid his hand into yours.

This wasn’t the first time you had held his hand. Far from it, actually. You held his hand almost every day. It was easy to get lost in space, it was just easier if you held onto each other. But this time was different, the intimacy of it making your heart thunder against your chest.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filling the room. Eventually, your eyes fluttered closed, the fluorescent greenish afterglow of the plastic stars remaining in your mind. It didn’t take long for you to slide out of consciousness, the heavy weight of sleep taking over and dragging you down.

-

You woke up of your own accord, a pleasantry you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced. No droning alarm, blinding rays of early morning sunshine, dogs barking, or anything else of the sort. Just your mind and body, having decided they were thoroughly rested, arising of their own accord - an internal affair rather than an external one.

After the initial fogginess of waking up after hours of deep sleep, you became quickly aware of your surroundings. Not just the Doctor’s bed or even his bedroom, but the Doctor himself. More specifically, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

At some time during the night, the exact timing unbeknownst to either of you, the two of you had found your way into each other’s arms. The action was seamlessly smooth, so much so that it almost felt rehearsed.

Your legs slotted together like expertly crafted puzzle pieces, fitting together in a way that made more sense than it should have. Could legs even fit together? You suppose they must if you were experiencing it. His chin rested on top of your head, his nose occasionally bumping the crown of your head as he shifted and nuzzled in his sleep. Your own head was tucked against his chest, your ear positioned right between his beating hearts.

The steady thumping of the twin organs pumping blood through his system was mesmerizing, the sound strangely familiar and comforting. You could feel the vibrations through your body, the asynchronous beats reverberating around in your head.

Slowly, the panic started to creep in, invading the sense of calm you had felt seconds before. You were in the Doctor’s arms. You woke up in the Doctor’s arms. Even worse, the Doctor was going to wake up and find you in his arms.

As if on cue, the Doctor started to stir awake. Low grumbles left his mouth as he buried his face further into the pillow beneath him. You stiffened, the change in posture immediately noticeable. You cursed yourself for drawing more attention to the situation.

The Doctor looked down at you, his tired brown eyes boring into yours. You blinked slowly, unsure what else to do.

“Good morning,” he whispered groggily, his voice at least an octave deeper than usual. You felt your cheeks heat up, almost certain that a blush was rapidly spreading across your face. He wasn’t moving you away or screaming in horror. If anything, he was holding you tighter now.

“Good morning,” you patored back, unable to form any words of your own. What was there to say? “Sorry, I’m a compulsive sleep cuddler, this totally isn’t because I have a massive crush on you please don’t read into it.”

The Doctor’s thumb rubbed small, concentric circles on the small of your back, his eyes still hung up on your face. You wished he wouldn’t look at you like that, like the most beautiful thing in the whole galaxy, like it was nothing.

As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, the Doctor stopped immediately. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and released his arms from around you, the sudden loss of contact disjointed. You frowned slightly and scooted to the other side of the bed, sitting up in the process.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hurriedly, his eyes purposefully avoiding you.

“It’s ok, I really don’t mind, I mean honestly it’s probably my fault,” you responded too quickly, your words falling out of you without much thought. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” you lied.

The Doctor finally looked over at you. By now, you were in expert in reading him. The secret was to look in his eyes. It didn’t matter what face he had, his eyes always told you everything you needed to know. You’d never seen them like this, though. An unfamiliar emotion him, a combination of his emotes you were so familiar with creating something you didn’t know. That worried you.

“Yeah,” he whispered, the look gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. He was back to his cheery self in minutes, stretching his body and springing up out of bed. “Let’s get on with it, maybe the TARDIS has found your room. I’d like to go visit The Beatles, what do you think?” he babbled on, striding across his room.

You scrambled out of his bed, almost begrudged to leave the silky warmth of his sheets. You scurried after him, practically running into his back as he came to a sudden stop. An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you peered over him, searching for the cause of the sudden stop.

The Doctor was pulling on his door handle, struggling to get it open.

“Forget how to open a door?”

“I’m over 900, I didn’t forget how to open a door,” he frowned, still tugging on it.

“Let me try,” you pushed him gently out of the way, tugging on the door handle yourself. Sure enough, it refused to budge. You pulled on it again, using both hands this time. Nothing.

Sheepishly, you turn back to the Doctor, ashamed to admit that he was right. “It’s stuck.”

The Doctor crossed his arms and nodded, an ‘I told you so’ look plastered on his face. He swiftly pulls the Sonic Screwdriver out of his pocket, pointing it at the door with his usual flourish. When it does nothing, he presses a few buttons on the device before trying again. After a few minutes of this, he finally gives up and resorts to kicking the door.

“Doctor!” you cry, grabbing his arm and forcibly dragging him away from the door before he can damage it or himself.

“Do you think…” you sigh, feeling guilty for even insinuating such a thing, “that the TARDIS locked us in here?”

“The TARDIS didn’t lock us in my room,” the Doctor says like it’s the most preposterous thing he had ever heard.

In response, the ship lets out a low groan of disagreement. More versed in the language of the ship, the Doctor noticed first. “You locked us in here?!” he hisses at seemingly nothing, but you know who it’s directed at. The TARDIS hums again, this time in a more approving tone.

“Why?” you butt in to ask. You’re met with nothing but silence.

“I don’t think she’s going to answer that,” the Doctor whispers in your general direction. The ship lets out another hum of approval.

You groan loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat. Not knowing what else to do, you slump back down onto the Doctor’s bed. You sit there for a few seconds just staring at the carpet (‘90s arcade patterned, of course) before the mattress dips next to you. You pull your eyes way from the garish carpet to look at the Doctor, his face equally as dejected as yours.

“I suppose there are worse places to be stuck,” you offer, “could be Mars.”

“There’s more to explore on Mars.”

“There aren’t ‘priceless’ artifacts from B-739, a mobile of the solar system that I’m pretty sure is intended for children, a box of Hotwheels cars, and a collection of pirate maps all in the same corner.”

“The mobile was a gift,” the Doctor defended.

“That’s what you got from all of that?” you chuckle. “It’s like the world's most clustered, excentric, space museum in here.”

“I don’t really sleep in here much. I suppose it’s just become a storage room of sorts,” the Doctor says sheepishly, almost embarrassed to be this open with someone. Sharing this much of his life with you felt strangely raw.

“I think it’s perfect,” you smile, the expression lighting up your whole face, “it’s very you. Chaotic, unorganized, other-worldly, and… beautiful,” you whispered, eyes scanning across the room. It didn’t matter how much you looked at it, there always seemed to be something new and fascinating to look at.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was looking at you. He was flabbergasted at how interested you seemed in it all. The tiny twinkle in your eye reminded him of all the stars he had shown you, all of the alien planets and beautiful corners of space. Yet, you weren’t looking at something particularly odd or beautiful, you were looking at his room. His messy, haphazard collection of strange objects and patterns.

Then, you turned that curious gaze in his direction. He felt his hearts speed up, a subtle but noticeable shift within his body. It was a nasty habit, his body getting excited every time you looked at him like that. He was 903, pretty people smiling at him shouldn’t make him react this way. Yet, you did.

-

Neither of you could figure out what the TARDIS wanted from you, so you eventually gave up trying. There was no point in fighting with the ship, both of you knew that was a losing battle.

You read the Doctor’s first edition of The Hobbit in the comfy warmth of his bed. In that time, the Doctor opted to pace back and forth and fiddle with the door relentlessly. Finally, he gave up and joined you on the bed.

“Do you have any ideas of why we’re in here?” he asked, pulling the book from your hands. You let him slip the paperback from your hands, throwing it on the duvet without bothering to mark your place in the book.

“If I did, we wouldn’t be in here,” you pointed out, looking at the discarded book longingly. The Doctor popped his head back into your field of vision, clearly not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“It has to do with both of us, otherwise she wouldn’t have hidden your room.”

“Maybe she just thinks we need a few days off.”

The Doctor shakes his head, “She wouldn’t lock us in a room for that, she would just refuse to fly anywhere.”

“Maybe she thinks we’re fighting. Are we fighting?”

“Not that I know of,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t think so. Maybe we pissed her off?”

The Doctor shook his head again, “she doesn’t seem mad.” You didn’t need to question any further, you knew that the Doctor could read the TARDIS’ emotions better than his own sometimes.

“If it’s not anger, what is it?”

“Annoyance?” he said. You couldn’t tell if he was guessing or just generally unsure.

“Has she ever done this before?”

“Once she locked me out of the ship when I complained about her never taking me where I wanted to go, but this is different.”

“Have you said anything mean about her lately?” you asked more out of curiosity than animosity, but the Doctor interpreted it as the latter. He could be quite sensitive.

“No! Have you?”

“I have nothing but love and respect for the ship. She has put up with you longer than any of us ever could.” The TARDIS hummed in agreement while the Doctor scowled.

“I don’t know what we did!” he groans, falling back dramatically on the bed.

“Are you hiding something from me? A big secret?” you say as if you aren’t the one hiding feelings for the other.

The TARDIS lets out a quiet hum that lets you know you’re on the right track and you grin, poking the Doctor.

“I’m not hiding anything!” he swats you away, “maybe you’re the one hiding things away.”

You shake your head. For a second the two of you just look at each other. It’s hard not to get lost in his deep brown eyes, they’re endless pools of wisdom that can only come from centuries of living. Beneath the wary tiredness and stoic armor you can see who he really is, a lost wanderer looking for a place to call home. It was foolish, but you secretly wished you could be that home.

“You have really nice eyes,” the Doctor whispered.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you whisper back.

“You were also thinking about how nice your eyes are?” he frowns in confusion.

You laugh, a smile taking over your face at his blatant obliviousness. “No, I was thinking your eyes are nice. I like them.”

“Oh… thank you?”

You nod, momentarily getting lost in his eyes again. Your mind was a mess, a kaleidoscope of him, the TARDIS, and your feelings for the former. You wanted so desperately to tell him how you felt, as you often did. Albeit, now was not the opportune moment. If he reacted poorly, you’d still be stuck in the room with him for an unknown amount of time.

And then it hit you. The TARDIS wanted you to admit something. She knew you had a secret, she maybe even knew what the secret was.

“Doctor?” you whisper shakily, surprised to find your voice uncertain and wavy.

“Mhm?” He pulled his attention to you.

“I just wanted to say that I love you.”

The room was silent for a moment. Neither of you moved or said a word, the normally quiet sounds of breathing and movement heightened by the lack of words between you.

“You too,” he finally said, his voice quiet. You knew admitting feelings was hard for him, especially when it came to things like love, so you couldn’t really blame him for the lackluster response.

You nodded, “I mean as more than a friend.”

“I know.”

Now it was your turn to sit in silence, your brain whirling as it tried to process his words. Was it hopeful to assume that he felt the same? That was what he had said, no?

“I’m very fond of you,” he added, sensing your confusion on the matter. “As more than a friend.”

You studied his eyes again. That unfamiliar look was back. For a minute you entertained the thought that it might be a look of admiration, love even.

The Doctor moved his hand into yours, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. It was a normal action from him, but it still sent your stomach into a frenzy.

“It’s quite an inconvenience, honestly. Makes it hard to get anything properly done when you’re around.”

You chuckle, a small smile forming on your lips.

“You’re my favorite distraction,” he said earnestly. In his own way, it was his way of saying you were the most fascinating, beautiful, unique, and magnificent thing he had ever seen. He’d rather have a day with you than centuries with anyone or anything else.

He leaned closer to you, his face hovering inches away from yours. He waited, giving you time and space to move away or protest. When you didn’t, he slowly closed the gap.

His lips connected with yours, the kiss short and light, but it conveyed the years of affection and yearning. He pulled away, both of you smiling like love sick idiots.

Satisfied, the TARDIS opened the door with a click, the sound echoing around the room.

[omi-boshi]

period cramps and a little bit of pining

your best friend omi comes over to take care of you during your period

tags: no plot just gratuitous fluff and yearning word count: 2.2k

through the haziness that comes from just waking up, you hear the muffled sound of knocking, followed by the click of the door unlocking. you poke your head out from under the covers, curious. the sound of footsteps and rustling just outside your bedroom door fill the space and truthfully, you should be more worried that a stranger has seemingly broken into your apartment. however, the lack of angry growling from your sweet great pyrenees and screams of bloody murder from the stranger soothe the concern that tries its damnest to rise above your grogginess. you stay quiet, curled up on your side, head still peeking out. the continuing muffled sounds almost lulling you to sleep, your eyes falling close. that's how kiyoomi finds you.

he pushes the bedroom door open. quietly, he pads over to the bed and crouches just beside where he can see your face. the concerned furrow between his brows softens slightly as he takes in your sleepy form. he debates waking you up, not wanting to disturb the sleep you're finally getting after a night dealing with cramps of the worst kind. he wishes nothing more than to indulge you as he always does but as your closest friend, he knows you have yet to get up and eat. and that takes priority. cautiously, he runs his fingers through your hair and down your cheek which you turn into, seeking the warmth radiating from his skin. the subconscious action disarms kiyoomi. he has to fight through the thumping in his heart to call your name until you finally start waking up. he watches as you rouse from your sleep, grumbling through the whole motion. it tugs a small smile up his lips. your eyes flutter open and the seconds that follow are punctuated by the stillness of the air as you stare up at him, slowly processing his presence. your eyes travel up his figure. the mask dangling from his right ear. the hoodie he wears — the one you usually steal from him. the fuzzy socks you got him for Christmas. the worn sweatpants you've told him many times to replace and yet he never does because it looks fine, you remember him arguing at some point. the memory of it makes you smile. your gaze trails to the soft curve of his lips, the moles partially covered by his damp messy hair — he must have showered before he came from practice — before finally landing on his eyes that quietly watch you. "hi," you finally whisper in what feels like eons. voice scratchy from disuse. "hey, sleepy head," he says just as softly, mirth coloring his tone. "what are you doing here?" "you texted me last night. did you forget?" you hum in confusion, sitting up slowly and pulling your arm from under the covers to look for your phone.

to omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:43 PM

omiii com e over tmrw :((( - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

You okay? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

I have practice in the morning but I can come over after. Is that alright?

- to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

that work s yes!!! and im okya, just kinda in pain and loopy from the meds and sticky ;-; - to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

everything hurts n i cant sleep on my back but it's ok see u tmrw! - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

It's that time, huh? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

Get some rest. I'll be there as soon as I can.

"oh," you mumble, as you scroll through your messages. "i thought I was dreaming." you put your phone down to look kiyoomi in the eyes, a tilt to your head. "i'm glad you actually came though." kiyoomi breathes in deeply, heart thumping so loud — at this point he's sure you can hear it. but of course, you are none the wiser as you continue peering down at him, sleepy smile on your face.

"of course, i would." he returns the smile. “anyway, i didn’t know what you wanted since you didn’t reply to me all morning.” he pulls out a paper bag that was sitting behind him. “so, i just got a bit of everything.” in your curiosity, you sit up straighter to look at the bag kiyoomi has brought. he starts pulling out its contents and showing them off to you with a dorky grin that grows the more items he shows you. there were donuts, churros, chocolates, cookies, mochi, bread of all variations, and a singular bottle of the tea drink you've been raving to him about the past month. "kiyoomi!" you yell, doubling over in laughter. "i can't eat all of this!" "well, good thing there's two of us," he rolls his eyes, grin still on his face. "in my defense, i didn't know what to get." which is a lie. sort of. because everything he got were things you mentioned craving the days leading up to this week. not that you needed to know that of course. "you'd ruin your diet for me, omi?" you pout, eye glimmering in amusement. "that's so sweet! come here!" you reach out to pinch his cheeks, cooing how your omi is the sweetest and kindest person there is and that people would know that more if you stop looking so grumpy, you idiot.he feels his ears flush and he pushes you — nudges, really — to the side, grumbling something about ungrateful spoiled brats. but he can't bring himself to actually chide you for it, not when you're high in spirits right now and he knows how the littlest things could set you off. he wants you happy for as long as your period lets you which isn't long; fickle as your moods are at these times. "alright, alright." he chuckles. "go freshen up and let's get some real food in you first before we eat the sweets," he stands up from his kneeling position on the floor, hand on your arm to pull you up, grunting as he does so. you groan as if remembering why he was here in the first place. you flop helplessly on the bed, boneless, unwilling to leave the inviting warmth of the blankets. "nooo," you whine, purposely obnoxious just to irk him enough to let you go. "i know what you're doing." he tugs again. "it's not gonna work." it's a losing battle, one that you fought valiantly 'til the end. your whining doesn't work and only ends with you thrown over his shoulder. you yelp, thumping his back with your fists in protest as he makes his way through the living room where your dog sees you both and follows you to the bathroom.

kiyoomi gently puts you down, righting your crumpled shirt. he chuckles at the look you send him. to him, you look about as threatening as a baby chick but he rightfully stays quiet. not taking any chances with your knees so close to his crotch. "there are some pads in the cabinet that i bought," he pauses to fix your hair that got messy from being upside down. "it's the kind you always have." you grumble out a thanks, still a bit peeved from being carried out of bed. kiyoomi was right, of course — you do need to freshen up — but you can still give him trouble for it. you're bleeding out and you feel all weird, sue you, right? "while you're here, i'll go heat up the food i got you — it's korean, by the way — and feed snowball too then we can do whatever you want after. sound good?" kiyoomi tilts his head towards you to see your face.

you don't answer immediately, still stubbornly holding on to the frustration of being forcefully pulled out of bed. but just like most things are with kiyoomi, it's a losing battle. again.

it doesn't take you long before you drop the pretenses and meet his gaze. what you see makes the fight in you leave all in one go. his gaze is warm with mirth and... something else. you don't know what it is but it makes you feel shy being at the receiving end of it. you are suddenly conscious of how sloppy you must look right now even though you know kiyoomi would not mind. in your rising embarrassment, you usher kiyoomi out of the bathroom, eyes not meeting his. snowball, who's just so happy to be there, follows kiyoomi out the door. a muffled boof! sounding through the door once you get it shut. you get your wits together and freshen up, taking extra time to deal with the flush on your cheeks that just won't disappear. kiyoomi is taking out the last of the food from the microwave as you come out of the bathroom, livelier now that you've washed your face. he greets you with a smile and calls you to the dining table. lunch is far calmer, a nice change of pace after the hectic ordeal of getting you out of bed. the strange shyness from earlier is forgotten temporarily as you both talk about nothing and everything; how volleyball practice went, how his courses are going, about the new show you wanted to watch with him. once you start feeling the cramps come up again, kiyoomi catches the change in your expression and decides it's time to go back to bed. he hands you the pill you take to treat the cramps and a glass of water. you give him a grateful smile and he ruffles your hair in return.

"go back to bed. i'll be there in a sec," he says, no room for argument. you feel a bit guilty not helping with the cleanup and you tell him as much. he only snorts and tells you it's fine and that it's what i'm here for.

it doesn't do much to abate your guilt but with the cramps only getting worse, there's not much of a choice to be made.

when kiyoomi comes back, he sees you curled up under the covers, eyes shut in pain. he grabs the rechargeable heating pad from across the room and nudges your hand with it. it's only then that you open your eyes.

"hi," you mutter, attempting to smile. "the medicine hasn't kicked in yet." you grab the offered heating pad. "hey, guess we're not watching that show then?" kiyoomi murmurs, knowing full well that you would want to sleep the ache away. you give him an apologetic smile which he only waves off. "i really wanted to watch it too," you mourn. "it's fine. we can watch it another time." he smiles kindly. the silence that follows is somewhat cautious, neither one sure where to go from here. usually, you would have invited kiyoomi into bed by now and he would groan his protest before reluctantly joining you, all the while you would be teasing him about it. but the shyness from before overtakes you and kiyoomi is unusually hesitant as well, eyes darting and feet shuffling in place.

he is the first to break the silence. "i'll head to the living room so you can sleep, okay?" he begins turning away from you. at his words, you hastily sit up. "omi," you call out. he looks to you, head tilted to let you know he's listening. you can barely hold eye contact as the next words stumble through your lips. "um, the-the heating pad falls off when i sleep on my side and, and you know how i can't sleep on my back because the bleeding would leak," you look away from his gaze. "do you... do you mind helping me?"

kiyoomi turns around, regarding you curiously. "and what do you want me to do?" knowing that words will fail you, you silently flip the covers and pat the space beside you. kiyoomi exhales and cautiously takes his spot on the bed, as if this is the first time he's done this. it makes you snort; your shyness and his hesitance, it's ridiculous. and yet you're unable to soothe your increasing heartbeat.

"and then?" kiyoomi asks, quietly.

shaking off the anxiety that's starting to take hold of you, you nudge his shoulder, urging him to lie down beside you. you turn your back towards him, reaching for his hand and slowly guiding it down to lay flat on the heating pad pressing to your lower abdomen. you swear you hear the sharp intake of breath over your shoulder; whether from the temperature of the heating pad or the action itself, you don't know.

kiyoomi is quick on the uptake and lays his palm fully on the pad. it takes you by surprise when he pulls you towards his chest that you can't help the little gasp you let out. "like this?" he asks, almost teasingly. the hesitance from before melting away from his tone. unfortunately for you, it does menacing things to your heart.

with your heart seizing in your chest, you hum your affirmative and relax in his hold. kiyoomi pulls up the covers on both of you and adjusts so that your head rests on his other arm. with the soft thump-thump of his heartbeat combined with the warmth from the heating pad and his body, you are slowly lulled to sleep. "we should talk about this, you know?" you hear just as you are on the brink of sleep and you only hum in response. you hear him chuckle, or rather feel the vibrations of it. And then lastly, a kiss to your hair. "another time then."

what comes after will be dealt with another time. for now, you will enjoy each other's warmth.

i wrote this on a whim because im currently bleeding out and everything hurts so bad and i wish i had an omi to take care of me ;;;;; I've got a more planned out fic that i can't wait to get out there i swear ;;;; pls take this crappy peace offering for now

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

[honey-crypt]

alright hi hello me again with fanfiction request ??!! im in angst mood so hear me out

Elliott x farmer, where farmer comes back badly injured like,,, bleeding all over arm probably broken and Elliott freaks out he's just like 'you could have died!!!' and when farmer just laughs it off he just,, breaks down yk n cries for them bc he can't stand the thought of his love dying in the mines one day :((

anyway angst to comfort please 🫡

a/n: i'm not responsible for any emotional damage this fic causes :)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: graphic imagery, blood, elliott has a bit of a breakdown, farmer is really injured

summary: it was just another day in the mines, for you at least. not for elliott, though, as he finds you bloody and battered in the foyer of your home.

★ home is where the heart is - elliott x farmer ★

You staggered towards the farmhouse, as the fireflies and lamps lit your way to safety. High-pitched wheezes clawed their way out of your mouth and you struggled to conceal your heaving, labored breathing when entering the house. The door quickly shut behind you and you let out a sigh of relief. I’m home, I’m home.

The light suddenly switched on in the main room, “(Y/N)?” your husband’s voice called out to you. Shit, you thought to yourself, eye to eye with the redhead. Elliott hugged the sheer night robe close to his skin, his feet adorn with the bunny slippers you got him last month. Despite the pain, you managed to smile through it, “Hiya, hon.”

Elliott nearly fell to his knees at the sight of your bloody, damaged appearance. He walked towards you, legs almost jelly-like in their uncoordinated movement, and kneel before you, “(Y/N), oh (Y/N),” his voice was barely above a whisper, “What happened to you?”

You sniffled and promptly winced from the act, blood gushing backwards into your throat and making you stifle back a gagging sound from the sensation. Your nose was at an unnatural angle and your forehead was caked in a mixture of dry and fresh blood, as you bled the cut on your scalp. 

It was just supposed to be a quick expedition.

The sound of metal clashing against armor echoed through your ears. 

In and out, just in and out.

You sustained the first wound. 

I didn’t think there were gonna be so many. 

Then the next wound.

There were too many.

And the next.

Too many monsters.

And so on until you were battered and bruised, a walking corpse. 

“(Y/N),” your husband’s timid voice called out to you, “(Y/N), my love, what happened to you?” his voice wavered in and out. Every part of you hurt, from your head to your toes. You tried to adjust your position against the wall, but hissed lowly when a sickly ‘crunch!’ echoed from your arm. Shit, probably broken.

“I’m calling Dr. Harvey,” your husband leapt up to his feet and approached the telephone. You watched, as Elliott picked up the phone and dialed the doctor’s after hours number, but another episode of ringing in your ears made it impossible to decipher what he was saying. The vibrations and loud ‘boom!’ of explosive ammunition against slimes repeated in your mind. Probably still got some slime guts on me, too.

And you did, slime stained your shirt and pants in a putrid scent. No biggie, clothes are replaceable. Elliott returned to your side at just the right moment when the ringing subsided, “Darling, please,” he croaked, “What happened to you?”

“Just another day in the mines,” you mustered up a laugh, but the motion made your ribs ache. As gently as he could, Elliott scooped you off the ground and carried up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He carefully let you down on the bed, his robe now stained in slime and blood, and took a seat back to you, “Dr- Dr. Harvey will be here shortly,” the writer hiccuped, eyes glossy. 

“Thanks,” you hummed softly, relaxing into the soft mattress. Elliott turned his body towards you and stared, uncomfortably so. No words were exchanged over the next few minutes, the both of you unable to speak. Finally, Elliott took the initiative and whispered, “You could have died, (Y/N).”

You let out a series of wheezing, delirious laughs at his concern. That was all you could do, laugh. Elliott’s face shattered at the sight of you laughing, “I- I-” his bottom lip quivered. You held up your hand, the one attached to your functional arm, and answered, “Just another day in the mines, not my worst.”

Elliott fell silent and you attempted to fluff up the pillow underneath your head, “Don’t worry, hon. I can-” a sharp cry interrupted you, as your husband unleashed his tears. He hopped off the bed and onto his knees, burying his face into the satin sheets. You could only watch him wordlessly, as Elliott sobbed his heart out. 

“You could have died, (Y/N)! What part of that don’t you understand!?” he removed his face from the bed to yell. You winced at his volume, you never had witnessed Elliott in such a distraught state before. Elliott resumed his cries, “I could have lost you! You’re the- You’re the love of my fucking life and tonight, I could have lost you!”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the curse; Elliott rarely swore, he considered swearing to be a sign of ‘low intelligence’ that ‘one must resort to such profanity to convey a point’. Yet, here he was, cursing up a storm, “Do you not get how your actions impact others? Do you not understand how much you FUCKING mean to me, (Y/N)?!”

A knock on the door cut his rant short, most likely Dr. Harvey. Elliott rose from the floor and exited the bedroom, only to return with Dr. Harvey after a couple of minutes passed. The doctor let out a whistle at your injured form, “Oh, dear,” was all he could say, as Harvey initiated the treatment.

Elliott’s hands gripped onto the nearby vanity mirror while Dr. Harvey fixed you up, a few tears slipping out of his eyes and onto the oak wood. It felt like an eternity went by until the doctor finished up the last of your stitches and cleaned up the mess of bloody clothes and disinfectant, “Visit the clinic tomorrow for more pain medicine,” Harvey informed you before setting the blister pack on the nightstand, “And you’re on bed rest for at least a week.”

“Yes, doc,” you grumbled. Dr. Harvey gave Elliott one last nod and left your house, silence overtaking the atmosphere. You swore that the tense silence hurt more than your injuries, as you awaited Elliott to continue his yelling. 

Instead, your husband entered the en suite bathroom and the sound of water rushing filled the room. He then returned to your side with a cup of tap water in hand and grabbed the blister pack of pain medicine. Quietly, Elliott popped out two pills and held them out to you, “Open up.”

You sat up and opened your mouth, Elliott placed the pills on your tongue and held the water to your lips. With Elliott supporting the glass in one hand and your back in the other, you slowly drank the water and let it wash the pills down your throat; it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Elliott placed the unfinished cup of water next to the blister pack and crawled into bed with you.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to apologize to your husband. He sniffled a bit, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, but gave you a smile, “I love you, (Y/N). I- I don’t know what I would do if you died in such a way.”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could reply with. Elliott wiped away his remaining tears, “I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul,” his words shook with incoming sobs, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he recited the phrase like a prayer. 

“I love you,” you answered, “I will be more careful, hon.”

“Promise?” your husband looked at you with his wet, puppy-like eyes. 

“I promise,” You reached out to Elliott  and touched his hand. He intertwined his hand with yours and the two of you laid on the bed, basking in the peace of the night. Tonight, you were alive. Tonight, Elliott had you next to him. 

Yet, your backpack laid discarded on the floor by the bed, three or so bottles of squid ink nestled inside. Perhaps, you would gift Elliott those bottles another day.

[pressureplus]

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

[animelovelover123]

DMC Boys - Devil Trigger Sex

DMC Boys  - Devil Trigger Sex

Parings: Dante (All Main Line Game Versions), Reboot Dante, Vergil (All Main Line Game Versions), Reboot Vergil, Nero (DMC4 & 5 Versions), V, Sparda, Credo, Nelo Angelo x Reader

Synopsis: Monster fucking. Need I say more?

Seriously though, this is a sexy little thought experiment that I had and am doing for fun. What would it be like to have sex with the DMC boys while they are in Devil Trigger? Some notes: 1. Some characters will have multiple entries since Devil Trigger designs change every game and sometimes multiple in the same game (except for Sparda who is always the same). 2. Some characters don’t have a basic ‘body turns into demon’ Devil Trigger so I take the equivalent and work with that.

Disclaimer: Don’t actually fuck a demon, it will probably hurt, lol. But if you're into that then I ain’t gonna stop you from gettin’ that sinner tail. ¬‿¬

Trigger Warnings: aggressive lovemaking, claiming, blood, interspecies sex

DMC1 Dante

Something to note is that at this point Dante is not using his own Devil Trigger, he is harnessing the power and appearance of the demon spirits in his weapons. This results in some interesting qualities.

When Dante DTs he does not need to stay in the demon form and can freely switch back to a human body while still having the improved speed, strength, and elemental power. This means that if taking his demon body gets a bit hard for you partway through, he can switch to his human body to give you a break without pausing the lovemaking.

A negative, however, is that because he is getting his power from the demon spirits in his weapons, he has to be at least touching his weapons to DT for you. Having a big sword strapped to his back makes positioning hard. Wearing Ifrit, though it is less of a gauntlet and more like gloves with large dragon-shaped safeguards surrounding it, makes it hard for him to touch and grab things.

Although, if you are down to do some foreplay with the weapons, whether it be a thrill of perceived danger or some provocative allusion, then their presence might just be a positive.

Another thing to keep in mind is the elemental effects his DTs have. Alastor is lightning and Ifrit is fire. And this is real lightning and fire coming off him. Dante can minimize the elemental effects and focus the power away from you. However, expect to receive little zaps and licks of fire at random when Dante’s focus falters.

As for his body while in DT, he has two forms.

The Alastor DT has wings, but they are thick and small, really only meant to fly himself, so no blanketing or flying with you.

He doesn’t have any claws, just rounded fingers, so no accidental or purposeful scratching.

He has shoulder horns that point forward so if he is getting closer you have to be right in front of him, though they are good for holding onto to brace yourself. Or, if you are on top you can lean down or lay on top of him and slot yourself between them or under them, helping to lock you in place.

His eyes are covered in a helmet-like protection so no gazing into his eyes, though it does give a layer of mystique. His mouth is still free for kisses thankfully.

His hair is gone, now replaced with hedgehog-like spikes that are surprisingly soft, flexible, and pleasant to touch for both of you if you go with the grain. Slotting your fingers through them is hard, especially the closer you get to the base, but because of how solidly and directly connected they are to his head, when you grab them he really feels it and pulling them is more of an order than a suggestion for him to move his head.

The Ifrit DT has no wings and doesn’t move as fast, but he is beefier and more powerful. Pinning you to the wall with his arms hooked under your legs just got a lot easier.

He has curved spikes on his heels which may not seem like they have utility outside of more painful kicks, but when you are ridding him while he lays on the air or over most anything regardless of shape because he has hooked his feet into the ground, then you will realize the possibilities of them.

His thighs are thicker and the inside of his legs are smooth so wrapping his legs around you is just as good, if not better, than usual. Though he now has curved spikes around his waist so you doing the same to him won’t work anymore.

He has curved, ram-like horns on his head which make great handlebars, especially when he is working his mouth on you.

The hedgehog spikes on his head are shorter, harder to grab, and he now has them protruding from his wrist to cover the top of his hands. So, even without claws, you will probably still get poked and scratched. These spikes are just as sensitive so doing things like sliding your hand, palm down, along the back of his hand gives him the most delightful of shivers up his arms and down his back.

So this is the first part I wrote so it will probably be a bit weird as I try to figure out what I want to do for these. Anyway, DMC1 Dante is the first to have multiple DT designs in one game. This one only has two (he technically has one more but it is just Sparda so you will see my thoughts when you get to Sparda), so it isn't too bad. I fear 3 though.

A big issue I had with DMC1 DTs is that there are not that many good, high-quality images and videos of the DT so it is a bit hard to make out the details. And some details aren’t shared between the one official image of each DT and the in-game model. For example, you can’t see the hedgehog spikes around Ifrit’s DT hands in the official art, but you can see it in-game. And in these games, since you only turn into a demon when attacking or flying, you can’t just look at him from all angles while he stands still. SO annoying. I tried though.

Nelo Angelo (Spoilers for DMC1)

To start, you need to understand how large this man is. We are talking around 8 feet tall and 3 feet wide. He will tower over you in every circumstance. Things like being able to wrap your arms around his neck or kiss him will have to happen upon request, especially if he is standing or you are already impaled on him.

It also means that the stretching you will have to go through will be rough. With just a single finger of his being equivalent to the average size, you are in for some serious training if you don’t want to feel the burn. ‘If’ being the operative word.

Stomach bulge inbound.

His strength is also impressive, able to lift even large men like Dante up by the neck singlehandedly, and he will do the same to you if you want it.

What YOU want is the focus as, with how warped his mind is to be subservient, his agency is low and his will to follow your requests and orders is high.

He is covered in thick armour that he cannot fully remove as it is magically fused to his body, but he can remove and shift some choice pieces. For example, he can remove his helmet, revealing his human head, though it is larger than most just like the rest of his body.

Nelo Angelo’s face under the helmet may be that of a human man, but it was cold, stoic, and pale, like a statue. Yet it reacts when you manipulate it, whether through pulling his hair, opening his mouth, or kissing him. He moves with you, molding himself to receive your affection and mirror it, hinting at the heart still hidden away inside of him.

His armour is thick and cold but can become warm over time thanks to your body heat. It also has strips of pulsating, glowing colour which change depending on his status. These strips also create a ‘V’ over his crotch which almost gives an underwear illusion and also offers quick and easy visual feedback when your mouth is on him. So, despite his physical reaction being minimal, the deepening of the coloured strips will be the best tell to know how good he is feeling, along with his wordless noises.

Nelo Angelo cannot speak, that right has been taken from him by his master, but his groans of exertion and pleasure are loud and clear.

Nelo Angelo’s armour is surprisingly smooth, lacking in sharp claws or spikes. Even the horns on his helmet are curved downward so the chances of getting sudden jabs in low. The only points you have to watch out for are his knee guards which are tall and sharp. Although they can be used as spots to place your feet to get a bit of height or as something you can push against to force yourself back into him harder.

Is Nelo Angelo a Devil Trigger? Yes and no. It is technically Vergil’s natural state while under Mundus’ control. However, in DMC3, if Vergil is wearing the ‘Corrupted Vergil’ costume, Nelo Angelo is his Devil Trigger form. Is the appearance in DMC3 cannon? No. Did I do this just because there is something hot about the idea of being with someone/something 2-3 feet bigger than me? Yes.

DMC2 Dante

Dante has the Amulet, a magical item that, when you place devil hearts into it, gives his Devil Trigger different attributes and abilities, meaning you can customize and tailor your sexual experience.

You want him to move fast? Slam into you with more power? Fly? Slow down time? He can do that.

You want some temperature play with fire or ice? Or receive some little shocks? Your desire is his command.

Though he can only have so many demon hearts active at once so if you wanna switch there will be a few-second pause to change his loadout.

Dante here has two DT’s, his base Devil Trigger and his desperation Majin/Sin Devil Trigger.

In his base DT, his face is still mostly human. His skin is rougher and he has some veins that distend, but he has eyes to gaze into, a nose to rub against yours, and lips to kiss.

His wings are longer, though the height and thickness are the same so they can’t offer you the blanket effect but they can wrap around you and hold you close.

He has hair for you to play with! It is not as silky smooth as him in his human form and a bit more solid than normal hair but nowhere near horn level. So, you can run your hands through it, twirl it, and grab it all you want.

He has claws so prepare for some scratches.

He also can produce gun barrels from his hands so if you are into the illusion of danger or force in your play, he has that going for you.

He also has flaps of leather armour that will drape over you like the tails of his leather coat.

Being able to make love while Dante is in his Majin DT is a rarity since he has to be greatly physically weakened. The only times you can get this form is if he is extremely sick and you convince him to do it or when he just finished a battle. While still buzzing with adrenaline and an animalistic/demonic frame of mind he may just jump you of his own volition to let out his energy and claim you as his and him as yours.

Dante grows over a foot when going into Majin DT so he will tower over you more than usual. And with his wider frame and four wings, be prepared to be fully encompassed by him, trapped in a cocoon of heat and passion.

His edges are sharper and his skin is a lot harder. He is also less human-shaped. For example, instead of his waist, hips, and legs all flowing into each other, his hip consists of a thick plate to which half of the top of his legs attach and his torso thins to a V shape that attaches to the plate, leaving a flat surface to his hips that you could place a cup on. It is unnatural and might take some time to get used to. And if you were to wrap your legs around his hips, placing them into the crevices between his torso and hip plate, they with be squeezed and firmly held in place.

He has horns on top of his head, a bit short but still enough to grasp, and horns that start on the side of his head and curve to the front. This means that if you try to deny him kisses by turning your head, you will get poked in the cheek for your trouble.

He has growths under his forearms that are sharp and produce laser blades. They get in the way sometimes when he tries to hold you, but again, if you are into the illusion of danger he can always hold a blade up to your body to get your heart pumping faster.

His face is no longer human. Majin DT is a true demon so when you look into his eyes you will see piercing red lights and when you kiss him you will feel rough, textured lips.

I’m surprised by how many better-quality images of DMC2’s Devil Triggers I found. I assumed, after looking at the DMC1 options, that DMC2 would be the hardest since it is generally the least liked in the series. It also helped that in this game you stay in the demon form so I could see pics/videos of them just standing, turning, and walking.

DMC2 Dante had an interesting dichotomy in that one Devil Trigger is the most human-looking of original cannon DTs (especially in the face) while his other DT is one of the least human-like DTs. It honestly a cool design choice (assuming they did it on purpose) to have Dante’s normal DT be human-like but when he gets desperate he loses his humanity and becomes more demonic.

DMC3 Dante

Though Dante’s Devil Trigger appearance does change depending on the weapon he is wielding, his power is not dependent on them so he can trigger without touching a weapon. So no awkward strapping of weapons to the body to have some fun in demon mode, though the variations may be some trouble.

All of his DTs create a glowing aura with a rippling, sparking energy so there is no way for you to shyly veil your body in the darkness. He will always be able to see your beautiful body, just how he likes it.

All forms have some sort of cranial tusk-like crest. The basic/Rebellion DT has the crest curled open so going in for kisses is possible. On the other end of the spectrum, Nevan DT’s face is almost completely covered by the crests like a helmet, so you are locked out of face touches. However, in all other forms the head guards make it hard to hold his face and kiss him but it also protects you from being bit by his pointy teeth unless you purposely stick something in there like your fingers, toes, tongue, or…

The crest is also solid, so no hair to play with but some of them make good handlebars.

His arms and wings are covered in scales, and with his muscles underneath it gives a similar sensation to touching a snake.

His legs have a smoother texture so feel more slick to the touch when they wrap around you, though some of his DTs have spikes on the back so be careful.

His chest has a rib design and texture so running your hands over it and having it pressed against you gives a unique, uneven feeling.

His eyes are a sharp golden glow that don’t blink, and his lips are always twisted upward into a smile so, if you face each other, there is an odd mix of excited enthusiasm and an intense watching aura present.

Clawed hands again, though with all the sharp points with these DTs, surviving a night without being left with red marks everywhere is but a dream. Also, Beowulf's gauntlets will get in the way, though the greaves can grab things so that can be used for retrieval or interesting positions.

The Rebellion and Nevan have wings that can either fold down, giving the illusion of him wearing his red trench coat, or be open. However, unlike most winged creatures, his wings start at his lower back so instead of them blocking out the world around you as they wrap around your shoulders and head, these wings will wrap around your hips and pull you closer.

Cerberus DT also has wings, though they are more so just protrusions that don’t move, so all they do is get in the way if he tries to lay down or you want to take him from behind.

The combination of the cranial crests, coat illusion, and glove-like hands, it never feels quite like you are touching him directly. There is always a feeling of separation. Although, with how talkative and energetic Dante is, hopped up on a relatively new feeling of power and primal urges, this is compensated for.

This fucker. I was dreading this because of him. Every other character and every other Dante in this series has 1-2 DTs per game, EXCEPT DMC3 Dante. He has five. Fuckin’ FIVE! Like its honestly really cool that his design and abilities change depending on his weapon, but in this specific circumstance it makes things so much more tedious. I could have gone into separate descriptions for each like in the other characters with multiple DTs but there are just too many to do that. I already have 15 to do, I don’t want the extra work.

Also, something I noticed while staring at DMC3 Dante’s DT for so long, in my personal opinion, with no intention of offending anyone… he got a goofy face.

He looks like he is constantly on the brink of doing an evil little gremlin laugh.

DMC3&4 Vergil

Vergil has a base Devil Trigger and then an altered one for the brief time he wielded Beowulf.

His layers of scales, plates, and leathery skin give the illusion of clothing, even more so than Dante’s. Vergil’s layers fold and bend over each other to not only mimic his coat and vest under it but also cufflinks and a high collar. A collar so high that it goes halfway up his cheeks. They flow and bend though so sliding your hands under them is very much possible.

The sheath for his Yamato, or whatever sword he is wielding at the moment, is part of his left arm. And this isn’t simply the metal/wooden sheath fused to him, no. This sheath is made of his own leathery skin and scales. Even if he takes the weapon out of it, it is hard, long, warm, and frankly gets in the way when lovemaking. Although he does have nerves in it, so it is possibly another shaft and hole to stimulate.

Vergil has a cranial crest that sits on the top of his head, meaning it is up and out of the way. Although the shape is not really suited for grabbing, it can be used as a panel to turn his head away or towards you.

In his Beowulf DT, his coat, or the illusion of his coat, is shortened into a crop top length and instead, he has wings that are sadly too thin to actually fly with or even drape over you in a blanketing effect. However, they are flexible and flowing so you can use them a bit like leashes to either yank him away or pull him closer, though more from the core of his body than his neck. That is, if you catch him off guard as his strength is superior and he does not like being at anyone’s mercy.

His crest has sharpened making them more dangerous but better to grab while still having the panel effect to twist his head.

His chest scales have also hardened and become more defined in comparison to his basic DT, giving a rib effect. They don’t distend much but when you press your hand against his chest, or it is pressed up against yours then it becomes more apparent.

He has thick gauntlets now so more delicate caresses are harder but grabbing you is just as easy, if not easier as it is harder for you to escape his hold when you can’t claw at his hands.

In this form Vergil creates a distorting, sparking aura that obscures your view of him and can give you sharp little zaps if you aren’t careful. Although Vergil has had a lot more training in this form and so can control this aura better, giving you both a clearer view of each other. However, it also means that Vergil can consciously give you little shocks when you, in his view, misbehave and don’t listen.

Vergil technically has three DTs in DMC3 but one of them is just Nelo Angelo who has how own section.

As for combining DMC3 and DMC4 Vergil, I don’t know what you want me to do. It’s the same. It’s literally the same. At least between DMC4 and DMC5, Dante’s DT had some differences to point out and there was a whole new DT to talk about. But there is nothing for DMC4. I couldn’t even really explore how differently Vergil can control his DT since it is implied that DMC3 and Vergil’s appearance in Fortuna happened at roughly the same time. So I am sorry for the cop-out but this is what I got.

DMC4 Nero

Nero can’t really control his demonic powers yet, which can be seen in a few ways.

First off, instead of shifting his body the energy manifests as blue phantom flames and glowing red eyes, giving him a feral or rabid look, and a demonic blue astral figure manifests and infects his mind.

This figure is large, demonic, and comes out when he asserts energy. So when he is thrusting into you or does something like grab your hair suddenly, the figure may just appear. If you are an exhibitionist this may be great for you. If you get uncomfortable being watched then Nero will have to do some training before he can take you like this.

It also does not simply hover behind or above Nero. It can also encompass his torso, so in the middle of an intimate moment you may just open your eyes to find that the face above you is different than before.

It does not speak to you, but Nero can hear it and it is determined to gain more power. And one of many ways to gain and assert power is for Nero to dominate you during sex. So, with Nero being more aggressive in DT, be ready for some rougher treatment. He loves you and would never intentionally harm you, but you may have to point out when your legs are about to give out or that the bites he is leaving all over you are bleeding a bit.

Another thing to keep in mind is that Nero does not have full control over when he goes into his DT. If he is high on adrenalin, from joy or anger, or you tease him just a bit too much, he will most likely trigger and pin you to whatever surface is nearby.

It doesn’t matter if you are alone at home, out in the forest, or on some side street, you may just find yourself with your face pressed against a cold surface with his human hand holding your hair while his Devil Bringer is already ripping your clothes to ribbons and his distorted voice growling in your ear about how badly he needs to fill you up and mark you as his.

Another non-traditional DT, wooo~…

The whole part about the astral figure having its own thoughts to some extent may be totally wrong, but I got the impression that the voice that Nero hears demanding “give me more power” is it. My headcannon is that it is his more animalistic demonic nature that has been repressed manifesting as a separate entity as Nero can’t handle it until DMC5. Then again, in one of the pachinko games (weird topic I know) the figure takes on the form of Vergil and seems to teach Nero a move so IDK what the fuck is going on with it.

Credo

Though he would deny it being a ‘Devil’ Trigger, Credo does obtain the ability to harness supernatural power to change his form into something no longer human.

This transformation is a lot softer than others, consisting of smoother lines, rounded points, and lots of feathers.

He has soft white feathers along most of his body, giving you something to really sink your hands and face into. There are exceptionally thick plumes around his thighs, so when you sit on his lap its like sitting on a soft feather comforter.

His tail is also covered with feathers, though has a bare underside showing off the muscles in it. It is more like a cat tail than anything, not having the conscious ability to grab things but unconsciously draping over you when pleased.

Thankfully it doesn’t whip around when excited, so when you take him from behind it will either wrap around your waist or drape over your shoulder.

The feathers of his singular wing are separated into three sections, offering three tactile pleasures to experience. A soft upper part, a muscular lower part, and slick blade-shaped feathers with smooth edges.

Though the feathers do not cover the crotch, they line either side so no sensory slapping sounds of skin hitting skin, but also no painful jabs of hipbones so there are pros and cons.

Speaking of the crotch, he has a chastity belt-looking protective plating that opened up like a little double door.

The plume on his head can get in the way a bit when you go in for kisses, but there is no structure to it so you can just push it aside.

There is, sadly, a rather big elephant in the room that will impede your loving making, at least until you figure out how to work with it or around it. In this form, one of Credo’s arms is attached to a large shield. It is 2/3s his body height, solid as steel, and a constant. His other arm does end in a hand with rounded fingers that can hold and caress you. His other though, will be in the way. Though it does offer good cover if either of you want to sneak in a tantalizing touch in public (not that Credo would ever condone such a thing but he hasn’t pushed you away either) and it offers a surprisingly comforting and secure nesting spot for when you are settling down after. And with how he can fly, even with only one wing, it can be like a little basket to carry you around in.

Atop his head are two sets of horns, one that creates an incomplete loop which makes a great handle and another set that points backwards quite a ways and has a layer of feathers on top. The latter set is long enough that even if you are average human height, compared to Credo who is 6’4”ish and grows a few inches when transforming, you can easily grab one and use it to yank his head up and back while you slam into him from behind.

Another oddity not often seen is how the claws on his toes and heels stick straight up. It may take some ingenuity to use them but there is potential there, especially those who have a particular liking to feet.

Unfortunately, the human-looking face he has is a façade, nothing but a solid mask. Like a sculpture of the gods, it is hard and unmoving. The golden hairs making up his beard are like strands of golden thread, his red eyes do not blink, and his lips stay curved in the slightest of a closed-mouth smile, even when he speaks. It truly gives the feeling of an angle taking on a more conceivable form for you so it may bestow upon you a gift. Though the ‘gift’ in this case is rather sinful.

This is one of those things that is not actually labelled as a Devil Trigger but could be argued as one.

One thing that people may not agree with me on is the idea that Credo’s shield in DT is part of his body and I admit, it is kind of unclear. I argue it is because we never see him not with it (unlike his sword and spear which he can throw and drop) and his in-game module does not have a left hand, his arm just melds into the back of the shield (see pic if it works).

After the fight, Nero gets an item (as he does after every boss fight) that is stated to be Credo’s shield. However, the Aegis Shield (what the item is officially called) does not look like Credo’s shield and when we see Credo later, he still has his shield. And, unlike how in other post-boss battle cutscenes we see Nero holding the ripped off item and it disappears as he absorbs it’s power, Nero grabs Credo’s shield, absorbs power, then throws the shield and Credo aside rather than ripping it off.

DMC4 Dante

Dante has two Devil Triggers, though one can’t be held for more than a minute so it is more for brief moments of passion or something to spice up the already spicy moment.

Dante’s DT here gives the illusion of a more human appearance.

The colouring and positioning of his scales and plates mimicking his red trench coat, gloves, chaps, and boots. He has lips and a nose, and there are white layers on his head and chin that look like his hair at a glance. However, the heat radiating off of him and the reptilian-like textures always remind you of the demonic nature of the thing currently spreading your legs.

His eyes are also a dead giveaway as there is nothing human about them.

The glowing spot on his chest that looks like a hole with cracks spreading out from it is a sensitive spot for him. Run your fingers along it, kiss it, or lick it and you can feel the vibration of his pleased growls and purrs.

He has more faux coattails this time, 4 to be exact, they are a lot more flexible and flowing than those before so moving them to take him from behind is easy.

Though he does get a bit faster, Dante’s DT offers much more strength this time around so be prepared to not walk the next day.

In this DT you don’t just have to watch out for his clawed hands, but also around his chin so the usual playful scratchy sensation of his stubble is now hard, and potentially painful, spikes.

He has spikes that start on his chest and go up past his shoulders. These are okay handlebars, though only work for leading his torso rather than his head. They can also get in the way when trying to go down on you or face sitting, but if you guys take the time to slot your legs between his face and the spikes, then no matter how much you squirm and jerk, you can’t escape his ravenous tongue.

His foot claws are longer now, unlocking the potential of Dante hanging upside-down down for some spider-man kisses or standing 69ing.

Also, first of Dante’s DTs to have a bulge so that means there is something to grind on for a bit for foreplay. And who knows, maybe the sudden appearance of a bulge means he has more packing down there this time.

Dante’s Dreadnaught DT does not last that long, a minute or two max, and he has to build up power and anger to even trigger it.

When he does pull it off though, there is an intense darkness about him in this form. Not just visually as his whole body is veiled in a deep black shadow-like fog with only the ripples of power along his spikes and helmet-like guard offering colour and light. But there is also a foreboding darkness with how his movement is slowed.

When he approaches you, he doesn’t run, he walks as his power is weighing him down. Yet his steps are silent, as if he isn’t touching the ground. When he touches you, it is cold and has an airy feeling, like little puffs of smoke are brushing against your skin. He is invulnerable in this state so he never truly feels anything like this. He can’t feel your touch or your warmth. He has to focus to register your attempt to push and pull him. He can’t even clearly see you, at least not in detail.

This all creates a feeling of separation, detachment you could say. Yet it also has a mystique and dread, as if an omnipotent supernatural being had chosen you to pursue.

I have honestly never heard of Dreadnaught DT before doing research for this. It isn't even listed on the DMC Fandom Wiki Devil Trigger page! I only found out about it because I was watching { DANTE }‘s videos of showing off Dante’s DTs to see their in-game models and movement and it is featured there. There isn't that much info on it online aside from people talking about its lack of use and the fandom wiki has a single tiny paragraph about it on the Royal Guard page.

Reboot Dante

For Dante to go into Devil Trigger he has to have his mother's amulet and be in Limbo, or the worlds have to be merged by now, so there is a dissociative aspect to making love here and like this. The world isn’t quite right here, and neither is Dante when he is triggered.

When he triggers, every living being except for himself is lifted into the air as if gravity had been turned off. You become floaty and dazed, your mind and body slowing down until Dante grabs you and pulls you back to land. The fog in your brain never fully disappears but things become clearer as his mouth aggressively kisses and bites at any open skin he can get to and his hands start clawing at your clothes.

If you touch the ground and focus you can find gravity again. But if Dante keeps you elevated and keeps your mind scrambled with pleasure then you are left in anti-gravity, at the mercy of Dante who can easily flip you around and lift you. It also means that his grip on you is all the stronger as he is responsible for holding you in place.

The colours of the already distorted world distort further, draining into white and black and all the shades in between. Even his dark hair bleaches into white during this time. The only splashes of colour are on Dante himself through his clothes and eyes, making it so you always look at him.

Though his body remains human, his eyes turn from pale blue, to the point they could be called grey, to a striking black and red, which match his more aggressive, demonic nature in this form.

When Devil Triggered, Dante is tapping into his demonic half and the longer he stays in it the more humanity escapes him. If your foreplay takes too long or by the time you reach your peak he may be too far gone to hear or care about your need for a break.

Thankfully Kat has created a spray that can knock Dante out of his DT if you need it.

But if you choose not to use it and let Dante’s DT run its course, Dante’s sense of concern for your exhaustion and boundries slip away as he loses himself to demonic urges of claiming and, if he has even the slightest interest in starting a family while in the right mind, breeding you.

It doesn’t matter if you’re in tears, if you’re twitching from overstimulation, or if you have gone limp in exhaustion, Dante needs to do this. To fill you, to mark you, to get rid of this burning sensation in his body and quench his hunger.

Advance warning (or post warning depending on if I reorganize these); any person without an actual demon form will usually have shorter parts since the majority of the other parts are about explaining how touching them would work when their body is so different. Without a different body shape, I am left to focus on something unique about the DT. In this case, I focused on how blinded Dante gets when in DT. In the game, we see how he is so blinded by betrayal and pain that he almost kills Vergil. So I tried to translate that tunnel vision of intense reaction to emotions into sexual desire. I think it came across well, though I feel that this might just inch into possible non-con with how aggressive and primal they become. I know some people aren't into that so I want to write it in a way that gives you an out if you want while leaving the possibility open if you are into that.

Reboot Vergil

Vergil has been training with his demonic power for a long time and chooses to focus the power outside of himself, so he is not as animalistic when DTing as others.

Even visually he can choose not to change, but if you want the pale skin, glowing eyes, and veiny look he can certainly do that for you.

The only visual change that he might let slip when in the heat of the moment are the flecks of demonic energy that hover around him and fly off in wild directions with more intense movement.

His DT consists of him creating a doppelganger that can work in tandem with him or act on its own. Meaning you have two Vergil’s to work with.

Two voices telling you how good you look and feel, and how he couldn’t focus on work when all he could think about was you.

Two sets of lips and teeth to kiss and mark every part of your body.

Two sets of hands sliding your clothes off and leading you into position.

Two tongues lapping at you and preparing you.

And two dicks searching to slide into you and be wrapped in your warmth.

The doppelganger does pose some differences though. The most obvious being that visually he is not consistently there, like a body you can get glimpses of through a thick mist.

He can also change colour if that does anything for you.

The doppelganger can also choose when it is corporeal and incorporeal, so even if you have clothes on or are wrapped up in a blanket, he can move through it and touch your skin directly anyway.

The doppelganger can also act as a surrogate. So while Vergil is busy with a meeting, his attention may be split as half of his mind is focusing on controlling his double as it takes you in the next room over. Call it prep for when the meeting finishes and Vergil can take over or join the fun.

This was another one where there is no physical change into a different body so I have to work with what I’ve got, which is not much.

DMC5 Nero

Nero has finally unlocked his full DT transformation and he can even control it better than before, meaning your intimacy can be more controlled and sensual. Unless you want him to be a wild beast because he would happily oblige.

His DT is more on the human side, with a navel, abs, pecks, and a mostly human-shaped face with warm lips that actually mold to yours rather than are stiff and just follow along like many other DTs.

His butt in DT is like a human’s rather than covered in scales or plating, meaning it can be grabbed, can jiggle and tense, and can be smacked with that satisfying sharp sound ringing out, though it is usually drowned out by the sounds that slip from his lips when you do land a good hit on his rear end.

His eyes are lizard-like and glow, making them more piercing. The kind that you can see track your movements from across the room like a hunter waiting for its prey.

His hair grows exponentially, going a third down his back. It is silky smooth to the touch, tough enough for you to yank on, and thick enough to block out the light when Nero hovers above you and his hair drapes over you just right.

He does have some spikes and plating, such as his calves which are covered in sharp spikes and his shoulder guards which are made for a particular set of astral hands that are not yours so they are hard to hold. Although if you slot your arms between the shoulder lines just right, they can become wedged and all you can do is grab and claw at Nero’s back while you are held open and helpless for him.

He also has a couple of chin spikes so no chin nuzzling.

The rest of his plating, scales, and skin are smooth so wrapping yourself around him, being wrapped up in him, sitting, straddling, and all the rest can be done comfortably.

The plating around his side leads down his torso, making a sort of happy trail leading your hand to just the right place.

He also has a bulge, though, like a lot of him, it is more human in proportion compared to his dad or uncle. Don’t tell him that though because he will simply have to show you how he is a grower rather than a shower.

His hands are clawed now, claws that are really long but not razor sharp. Perfect for dragging across your skin to give you those pleasant tingles without actually causing harm. Again, unless you want that.

Speaking of claws, he has a second set now… kind of. His wings act more like arms with claws rather than wings. They have the full range of a normal hand, and arguably more, so can grab and lift and pull you around as he desires.

Although these clawed wings are not exclusive to his TD and can come out whenever. They tend to get integrated into all of your intimate moments, whether intentionally or not. And they are even occasionally involved with the lead-up as he keeps his real hands somewhere tame while his Bringer Claws sneak over to and grab something a bit spicier.

He has a pair of horns on his head but they are not really shaped well for holding. They are more like head guards with a feather-like scaling pattern that is quite pleasing to the touch for both of you.

They do make the space a bit tight when you go in for a kiss. Though he likes this as once he has you pinned down and brings his face nice and close, there is no escaping from his lips for you. As for the rest of your body? Trust me, he will find a way to leave his sharp little teeth marks all over you.

His voice becomes distorted when in DT, making it deeper and more gravely to the point of pretty much having reverb.

Holding his DT does take some effort, so he pants and breaths a bit harder and more often. And with how his voice is affected those sighs and sharp intakes ring out through the room.

I’m surprised with how little I had to say for this one, but I guess that is because his DT is rather tame in regard to representing a demon. Also, a lot of little things I have said have already been said for the other guys. And I am losing steam. I’m almost done though, so close…

V

V was a human, he did not have the same demonic energy as his kin, not from his own being at least.

That doesn’t mean you and he can’t have some demonic fun, he just requires some assistance. If you are up for it, of course.

For the most powerful demonic force V has under his control is mindless, lacking a true will of its own, and does not exactly have a solid form. It is flexible, moldable, one could even say like a thick liquid.

Nightmare, under V’s command, can change its body at will.

It could be like a large drop of warm water gliding around your skin, pinpointing your sensitive areas under your clothes as you try to do something else.

It can be like a thin snake, sliding around your body, squeezing you just enough to make your heart pound.

It can lay thin across your skin like clothing or even closer, contouring perfectly to your body, while heating, vibrating and shifting around.

It can surround you in intertwined and knotted tendrils that poke, prod, slide, writhe, and thrust around you.

Or it can fully encompass you, like you are submerged in water with every bit of your skin coated yet everything is dark, warm, and relentlessly stimulating you.

And all the while V is sitting nearby, watching and controlling the moment carefully.

His primary focus is on you, making sure you are safe and satisfied, occasionally slipping in for a moment to surprise you with a sudden texture shift before disappearing again.

But if you were to call out to him, asking him to join, well he could multitask.

So this is the most different of any of these Devil Triggers to the point that I was debating not putting it in. But I decided, why not. We are already going crazy with these things, why not get some slime/tentacle hentai in here. I still chose to keep it really short though since this may be uncomfortable/a step too far for some people.

DMC5 Dante

Again, Dante has two DTs, with his first one being very similar to the one he used during the Fortuna incident. So a lot of the points mentioned there carry over. There are a couple of new things to mention though.

For one, he has more control over his demonic power now, meaning he can control the heat radiating off him better and, more importantly, his eyes are no longer just glowing orbs of power. Though more reptilian than human, you can see Dante’s eyes, gaze into them, and see how they darken with lust and then shine with love as you cuddle after.

His feet have actually shrunk so, no more upside-down fun, but that is made up for by his wings.

What looks like the tails of his coat can lift and open into a pair of wings that he can fly with or wrap around you. With 2 wings, even with each wing having 2 segments, he can’t quite encompass you like in his Majin form but with the glowing, circular pattern on the inside it offers a visual effect that is hypnotizing to watch. This dazzling visual is enhanced when ripples of sensation and energy surge through Dante causing the lights to flicker and waver.

His wings also have hooks on the top which he can use to hold you, in particular your shoulders, in place so you don’t slide away from him as he slams into you.

Now on to his Sin Devil Trigger.

He does have to stab himself to get into this form which could be a turn-off or turn-on for you. It has happened to him so many times that it does not faze him all that much, though he does let out some deep groans and growls as he feels the rush of power take him over.

This is the farthest from human-like he has looked since his brief time being able to hold Majin form. No nose, eyes back to being simple glowing slits of energy, and not even lips to kiss.

His skin is like rock and if he doesn’t focus, he could burn you with how hot his body becomes.

And there are spikes everywhere. Head, shoulders, arms, chest, legs, nowhere is truly safe. Even his waist, though having a similar thinness and flatness to his Majin DT, has spikes pointed at it so it is a risky idea to slot your legs around them.

But if you can brave the danger and you both are able to keep safety in mind, or not if you like some pain, this will be the most intense night you will ever have. Each thrust takes your breath away and the weight of his body almost makes you feel trapped, a true feeling of being taken by a wild beast.

Add in the fact that the hooks on his wings, of which he has four now, have become more like appendages so they can bend and twist at will, which means he can scoop up and manipulate your body, counting his arms too, in six ways now, making you feel surrounded and at the mercy of this titan.

Also, Sin DT has a bigger bulge, so we all know what that means…

The bulge is even shaped a bit like it and it has a cracked, lit slit separating the protecting scales as if it is so big that it is almost forcing its way out.

Also, his ass is surprisingly round and big, covered in small scales which means you can feel the muscles move under them. But there is a spine-like structure between his cheeks so no hotdogging but gripping and caressing are still on the table.

Some sensitive places are along the glowing spots of his inner forearm and on the glowing inside of his horns. Not the long ones on top of his head, but the ones wrapping around the sides of his head. Because of how rough and hard his skin is, just touching them isn't enough. You have to claw and dig into them. When you do though you get this interesting sound. This crackling, sizzling sound along with his warped, deep growl and snap of his jaw.

It’s the most sensation he can feel in this form while making love, aside from finishing of course. Dante feels so powerful, so invulnerable in this state that when you do it suddenly it's like his brain shuts down for a minute. He twitches and may even crumble down onto you for a second before bouncing back. And though it may be stifled by the distortion, you can also hear him whimper. Quite the contrast from his intimidating form, but this is a power only you are privy to and can exploit out of him.

Unlike most people who joked about/did not consider the Devil Triggers being sexy until the first clear shot of Dante’s Sin DT was of his beautifully sculpted booty, I have always been curious about the weirder, more creative side of fantasy sex, and so have occasionally imagined scenarios like these. I used to shy away from writing/sharing fanfiction ideas about crazier things as I feared the possible onslaught of hate. Now though, I wonder how different the reception for these will be since the immaculate rear ends of DMC5’s DTs are a meme and normalized?

DMC5 Vergil

Vergil’s Devil Trigger has lost practically all of its clothing illusions and is overall less human-like.

He is a lot more ridged and sharp now, with pointed protective scales and plating along his chest, limbs, and head. There is a soft spot, however, right over his stomach. The scales are smaller and thinner to the point where you can feel his ab muscles flex and contract due to choice or as a reaction to stimulation. Everywhere else though you must take caution.

This caution should also extend to his bulge of all things. The shape is a bit odd as it both curves up and down. The up curve is relatively smooth and if he leans back enough, you could even sit on it while he is standing. The downward curve is where the danger lies.

The protective plating and scales form a dragon head with glowing eyes and everything. Does it move? Probably not, but the little fangs and curved snout of the crotch dragon may just rip into your clothing.

His arm sheathes make a return and is both less and more obstructive. On the positive, they are shorter now and open, acting more as pipes that exude demonic energy that form into blades than a place to store a physical sword. On the other hand, he has them on both forearms now.

Speaking of pipes, his cranial crests have opened and become exhaust pipes for demonic energy that burst forth like blue flames. Vergil does have enough control over his demonic blood to choose when and if he creates these flames and how hot they are. He can actually make them cool to the touch, allowing you to run your hands through them without risk of injury. Even if you are not that interested in them, he likes to have at least a small flame going as the way the light reflects in your eyes makes you even more dazzling than usual.

He has horns and spikes that protect his face but there is enough room for you to slot your head in there for kisses, though he has no lips to kiss with.

He does, however, have a lightly barbed tongue that, with careful control of his demonic energy, he can also choose to make hot or cold as it explores your mouth or drags across your skin.

He has wings that he uses this time, able to fly you around so he may abscond with you to a more private area when the need arises. They have a glowing ripple pattern on the inside that, along with the energy flames of his head and arms, can create quite a flashy light show. Now whether he uses that to entertain or distract you is something for him to decide.

He also has a tail, and quite a long and strong one at that. Unlike most tails, his attaches to his upper back, making it start closer to your head level. This makes capturing you by the shoulders or wrists and lifting you off the ground, suspending you and leaving you helpless in front of him while both his hands are free, easy.

The main length of the tail has large, flat scales that come to softer points, so even if it slithers over you against the grain, it won’t hurt as long as it is going slow.

The end of the tail is barbed, but the actual tip is thin, smooth, and around a foot long. This means it can act as a good replacement, or additional, rod to play with.

And with the fact that Vergil can create a doppelganger in the image of his demon form while in his human form, well you can have the best of both worlds at the same time.

Now, some people may think that me not expanding on Vergil’s doppelganger ability is a waste, but all of that detail had to be used for Reboot Vergil because that is all Vergil’s DT is in that game. I guess I could copy and paste a handful of points to this section but that would be a waste and cheap. Besides, this might encourage those who skip parts to go back and actually read Reboot Vergil’s part, lol.

Sparda

Sparda is very comfortable in his demon form, more so than his human form, so he knows exactly how to use it.

He has a lot of protruding bits that mimic armour. For example, he has plating that acts as shoulder guards and scaling on his legs that go up to his hips. It gives ‘a man in uniform’ type of vibe but it can get in the way.

The biggest hinderance is the protective ring around his chest that comes to a point in the front. Chest to chest contact just won’t happen. It isn’t even big enough for you to sit in for easier eating out. The only possible positive is its ability to capture liquids, so if you are into puddles of various things you have that going for you.

At least his knee guard-like protrusions, the ones on his legs, and the ones on his shoulders can help you hang on. Whether it be planting your feet on his knee guards to get a bit higher, using his leg guards for hooking your legs around his surprisingly thin waist, or having your legs sit between his shoulder guards and head for the aforementioned easier sitting for licking.

Speaking of his legs though, they, and his arms, have this interesting ripple texture that is flat enough to his body that they don’t cause discomfort but make a pleasing ticking sound when you drag your nails across them.

He has spikes on the tops (closest to the elbow) of his forearms, so fisting can only go so far.

His horns go out to the side and curve downward so they stay out of the way for kisses and, though thick at the base, thin out at the tips so you can grasp them. One function that Sparda had never considered before though is how, when facing away from you, you can hook your arms under his horns and rear his head up.

His fingers are clawed but surprisingly not his toes. Instead, his feet are hoofed with the split like a goat. Not much utility during sex but the sound they make when he walks around is a surprisingly soft yet satisfying ‘clop’.

His lips are upturned, unlike humans, so he does not quite smile and looks as if he is frowning, or scowling with how his head armour shapes his eyes. It may take some time for you to get the more subtle signs signalling his true feelings. Or, if you train him right, you can weaponize your concern of not being able to read his face into making him be more vocal during lovemaking.

His wings are bug-like, having a harder protective shell and 4 sheer wings that shimmer in the light. When he flaps them they beat quickly, creating a decent amount of wind which can be used to either manipulate temperature, for comfort or excitement, and to make the parts of you already wet tingle as the chilly breeze hits them.

So a couple of interesting notes about this one. First off, would you count this as a Devil Trigger? It’s not really clear if Sparda’s demon form is his natural state and he just chooses to have a human form to fit in better with humans or if his human looking form is equally his natural state and he just switches form depending on the situation. The only beings we have seen that take on a drastically different look when DTing are demon/human crossbreeds, which Sparda is not, and Lucia who (spoilers) is an artificial demon created by Arius made to look human so she, and others like her, can act as his bodyguards in the human world without drawing suspicion. (spoiler end). So jury is out on that one.

Second point which causes some problems when making this is the fact that the details for Sparda’s demon form are vague. We knew the general idea but because most of our looks at Sparda are through different characters channeling his power, the DT changes to fit that character. For example, when Vergil DTs into Sparda’s form he still has the skin sheath thing on his arm, which Sparda definitely didn’t have. The only time, as far as I know, that we have seen Sparda’s demon form in a main game, the REAL Sparda, is in the opening of DMC1 but that is obscured. I did the best I could, but it may not be accurate.

[thef1diary]

Congrats on 3k!! Could you possibly do "Have I told you I love you today?" "Yes, but please say it again." and VCARB Danny? Smothering him with affection and cuddles to keep him happy after some ups and downs these past few months 🥹

Reassurance | D. Ricciardo

a/n: this one was a bit painful to write. I received another request with the same prompt but with mclaren!daniel: happy 3k!! i wanted to request '"Have I told you I love you today?" "Yes, but please say it again."' and mclaren!daniel 🥹 the neediness for validation and cuddles.. thank u 🫶 & this request too that fit perfectly: I didn't find anything fitting on the list for Daniel, but I have been thinking about him being insecure about getting a seat next year and just reassuring him that he won't be alone, no matter what happens.

prompt: "Have I told you I love you today?" "Yes, but please say it again."

wc: 1.1k

warnings: very brief mention of ed, mclaren!daniel (yes that’s a warning because of the horrors we went through)

masterlist 3k celebration

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

2022

You watch as Daniel returns home from yet another simulator session, his shoulders slumped in a way that makes your heart ache. He's been trying so hard, pushing himself to the brink, but it seems like nothing is going right for him at McLaren. The once bright spark in his eyes have dimmed, replaced by a weariness you haven't seen before. A part of you wonders if it'll ever return—no, you hope it will, it has to. After all, his happiness was a part of him, and as the months went by, you could see that he was losing that part of himself.

The late nights, the early mornings, the gruelling workouts—he's given everything he had, but the results were still disappointing. You've noticed the subtle changes, the unhealthy habits creeping in as he tries to cope with the mounting pressure. The missed meals, claiming he wasn't hungry even though he cooked with you. The dark circles under his eyes from the nights he laid awake, tossing and turning beside you until he decided to leave the room so he doesn't disturb you. He's burning out, overworking himself, and you're worried for him, scared even.

As he stands in the kitchen, holding a glass of iced water, staring blankly at the wall, you step up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He tenses at first, but then you feel him relax into your embrace, his free hand coming up to cover yours.

"Hey," you whispered, you voice soft and full of love. "Have I told you I love you today?"

For a moment, it's silent. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body against yours. Placing the glass on the countertop, he turns in your arms, his eyes meeting yours. The exhaustion is evident, but there's a flicker of something else there too—something that makes your heart break.

"Yes," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "But please, say it again."

Your throat tightens with emotion, and you reach up to cup his face in your hands. "I love you, Daniel. So much."

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he surrenders. His arms wrap around you, holding you close in fear that if he lets you go, you'll walk away from him too. You feel the tension slowly ebbing away from his body as you run your hand up and down his back.

You guide him to the couch, pulling him down with you, and he lets himself fall into your embrace. You hold him tightly, your fingers running through his hair, whispering words of love and reassurance. He clings to you like a lifeline, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he lets himself break down.

"It's okay," you whisper, kissing his forehead. "I'm here, I've got you."

He buries his face in your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, afraid to let go. For a long time, you hold him, letting him spill out all his thoughts—the negativity he's been keeping to himself, the self-doubt—even though you disagree with his harsh criticism of himself, you listen. You feel the weight of the world slowly lifting off his shoulders, replaced by a fragile hope. You know it'll take time for his confidence to fully return, but you also know that sometimes, a little bit of hope and a lot of love can make all the difference.

2024

After rejoining the RedBull family nearly a year ago, Daniel felt a sense of familiarity, a feeling of being home again. But despite the warm welcome and the support of the team, the inconsistent results start to gnaw at him. He has good races and bad ones, which cause the doubts to creep back in, whispering that maybe he's not good enough anymore.

One evening, after a particularly tough race, you find him in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. His shoulders are slumped, and the light in his eyes is dimmer than it should be, reminding you of a time that sent shivers down your spine. You walk over and sit beside him, your heart aching for him.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to take his hand. "Have I told you I love you today?"

He looks at you, and for a moment, you see the pain and doubt reflected in his eyes. The words bring back memories of that night in your arms, and it shatters your heart to see him struggling again.

"Yes," he whispers, his voice filled with vulnerability. "But please, say it again."

Your eyes fill with tears, but you blink them away, determined to be strong for him. You lean in, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. "I love you, Daniel. I love you so much."

He buries his face in your neck once more, his grip on you tightening. "I'm so scared," he admits, his voice trembling. "What if I don't get a seat next year? What if these ups and downs mean I'm not good enough?"

He pulls back, a look of horror crossing his face as he struggles to string sentences together to express his thoughts. "The team, they believed in me. What if I let them down?"

You shake your head, pressing a finger to his lips to stop him from speaking another word. "You are more than enough," you state firmly. "You belong here. The team still believes in you, and so do I."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him. "It's okay to have doubts, but don't let them consume you. As for your seat, there are still plenty of races left to show your worth. You deserve it."

He nods, his breath warm against your skin. "I just don't want to let anyone down," he murmured.

"You won't," you assure him. "You're an amazing driver, and you've come so far. Sometimes things don't go perfectly, but that doesn't mean you're not worthy. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

He sighs, the tension slowly leaving his body as he melts into your embrace. "Thank you," he whispers. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to worry about that," you say softly, kissing the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Wrapped in your arms, Daniel closes his eyes, allowing himself to let go of the anxieties that have plagued him for so long. You stay like that, cuddling and comforting him until he starts believing your words.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @namjoonswaifu @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @chilling-seavey

[nyoomerr]

I hope you have a nice week of vacation!!!

For a prompt request perhaps something with a more monstrous or demonic Binghe? Potentially dealing with self hatred/insecurity or dysphoria because of this but with a shen Yuan being VERY into monstrous features actually.

(only if that strikes your fancy though. Have a good one either way!)

combining these two prompts together to present you both with some cursed dragon!binghe and a sqq that has very little issues with what that means for him, lmao.

---

Admittedly, when a disciple had burst into the lecture hall to very frantically inform Shen Qingqiu that something was wrong with Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t thought much of it.

On Cang Qiong, ‘something wrong with Luo Binghe’ could be anything from Luo Binghe outright attacking Liu Qingge to something as small as Luo Binghe having disturbed the dirt beneath his feet as he walked. Luo Binghe’s very presence here was something that even occasionally was reported to Shen Qingqiu as ‘something wrong,’ because Shen Qingqiu still hadn’t quite managed to strike down the rule barring Luo Binghe from entry to the sect.

So Shen Qingqiu had sighed, given the interrupting disciple his most withering ‘don’t you know better than to barge in like that!’ glare, and exited the classroom with very little urgency. 

It was only on the walk back to the bamboo house that some of Shen Qingqiu’s irritation began to be replaced with concern. 

Disciples and hall masters from Qing Jing and Qian Cao alike were running about like chickens that had lost their heads - most of them looking as if they’re just running around to be a part of the action and gossip rather than to actually be useful, but running around nonetheless. The Qian Cao disciples in particular seem to be very dedicated to scouring the ground for what appear to be crystalized… feathers? Scales? Whatever they are, they glint a deep red in the sun despite looking near black in the shade.

Alarmingly, many of them seem to be quite bloody.

Shen Qingqiu picks up the pace a bit. Then, when he gets near enough the bamboo house that he can hear the commotion of fighting and the wretched sound of a beast in pain, he abandons his pride and starts running.

“Liu-Shidi!” Shen Qingqiu calls as he approaches, watching with horror as Liu Qingge stabs Cheng Luan through a window to poke at something in the bamboo house. “What on earth is going on?!”

Liu Qingge looks up at the sound of his name, and then promptly gets thrown across the clearing that the bamboo house sits in when a thick tail whips out of the window to knock into him.

Shen Qingqiu looks at Liu Qingge - already standing back up, although looking significantly more irritated - and then back at the bamboo house. He does some quick mental math. 

“...Binghe?” He calls tentatively. 

The awful noises from inside the bamboo house stop. The creature’s tail freezes where it had been slowly slithering back in through the window that it had whacked Liu Qingge through. 

“Oh, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, taking that as all the confirmation he needs. “What did you get yourself into this time?”

“Back off,” Liu Qingge grunts, sliding between Shen Qingqiu and the house. “If that’s really your disciple in there, he has even less sense than usual.”

“Nonsense,” Shen Qingqiu says. Hadn’t he clearly displayed a sense of shame just now, when Shen Qingqiu had caught him throwing Liu Qingge about? Actually, isn’t the fact that he attacked Liu Qingge in such a way proof in itself that it’s still his troublesome disciple in there?

“He sent three of your disciples to Qian Cao before I got here,” Liu Qingge says, and Shen Qingqiu winces.

Luo Binghe may not try very hard to maintain good relations with Shen Qingqiu’s fellow peak lords, but he does try to be civil with everyone on Qing Jing. 

Well. Everyone except Ming Fan, usually. Poor Ming Fan.

Still, Shen Qingqiu is quite convinced that the beast inside his house is Luo Binghe. He’d been away for the last week quelling a rebellion in the southern demon lands, fighting against a race of demons known for their particularly potent curses.

The mental math Shen Qingqiu had done adds up: it’s been nearly a full month since the last wife plot he’d had to fend off with his husband. Naturally, the beast inside his home must be a Luo Binghe that’s been cursed in some awful way that will require a truly heinous amount of freaky papapa!

Shen Qingqiu takes a determined step towards the bamboo house. 

Liu Qingge mirrors the step, remaining firmly in the away. 

“...Liu-Shidi, if you don’t mind,” Shen Qingqiu says, pointedly taking another step to try and get around him.

Liu Qingge mirrors the step once more. “He’s attacking indiscriminately,” he says, scowling. “That beast has hurt you enough as it is, no need to -”

Whatever Liu Qingge had been about to say, it’s cut off by the sound of Luo Binghe making another wretched noise, followed by something shattering inside the bamboo house, and then complete silence once more.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. Of all the casualties of this world’s nonsense, the sheer number of fine tea sets that he’s lost to plotlines deciding that something shattering would add some good drama is truly the worst!!

“Try to stay still for now, Binghe,” he calls over Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “This master will help you get untangled once I get in there.”

“Don’t let him out,” Liu Qingge says, blocking Shen Qingqiu’s way with Cheng Luan. 

Shen Qingqiu eyes him distrustfully. “Shidi was the one who locked him in my house?”

Liu Qingge sends a pointed glare around the clearing. The clearing which, in all fairness, is quite a bit messier than it usually is: whole swaths of bamboo have been trampled, and deep claw marks dig ugly rows in the ground everywhere Shen Qingqiu looks. The little garden that Luo Binghe has been tending recently is completely lost; Shen Qingqiu tuts as he thinks about how irritated Luo Binghe will be to have lost his favorite source of fresh vegetables. 

“He’s out of control,” Liu Qingge says. “Containing him in a small space was the most immediate method of getting your disciples out of danger.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples.

“Just to be clear,” he says, “Liu -Shidi heard reports of a beast on a violent rampage on Qing Jing, showed up and saw a creature wreaking havoc, and decided that the best course of action was to corral the beast into my house?”

“...” Liu Qingge says.

“Thanking Liu-Shidi for his assistance,” Shen Qingqiu says with very little real gratitude. “Now shoo; go scare the Qian Cao disciples off my peak if you’re not done playing guard dog. They’re trying to collect Binghe’s blood again, I think.”

Liu Qingge’s expression twists. If Shen Qingqiu feels disturbed watching little baby medics trying to scrape Luo Binghe’s blood up off the ground to research, Liu Qingge undoubtedly detests the idea of their righteous sect collecting that “dirty” blood even more.

Eventually, Liu Qingge huffs, sheathing Cheng Luan and turning away from Shen Qingqiu in one movement.

“Fine,” he grunts. “But when he lashes out at you, too -”

“He won’t,” Shen Qingqiu interrupts, and finally manages to push past Liu Qingge and into the bamboo house.

Although, once he’s inside, he realizes very quickly that there’s very little room for him to go from there. 

Luo Binghe’s current form takes up most of the entire main room of the bamboo house, even with his body curled up tight in one spot to try and avoid knocking into the walls. Every breath Luo Binghe takes seems to move the whole space for how powerful it feels, and Shen Qingqiu can barely make out the crushed remains of the table beneath one massive paw.

A western dragon, Shen Qingqiu thinks, taking in the sight with no small amount of awe. 

Of course, he makes sure to feel an appropriate amount of irritation towards Shang Qinghua about it too.

Still though, Luo Binghe as he is now is truly a sight to behold. A handsome and proud snout with giant curving fangs peeking out from his mouth sits below a pair of reptilian eyes that shine with the same pretty shade of red that Luo Binghe’s eyes normally do when he gets irritated. Large red horns sprout from the sides of his head and curve and twist in front of his forehead in an approximation of his demonic huadian. His whole body ripples in the light, covered in those beautiful crystalline scales - though Shen Qingqiu notes with some regret that he can quite clearly see the bloodied patches where some of those scales have been ripped out. 

He doesn’t seem to have wings, but Shen Qingqiu easily spots the long tail that had knocked into Liu Qingge - as Shen Qingqiu examines Luo Binghe, the tail starts to thump rhythmically against the ground, like a dog sheepishly wagging its tail. Ah, that’s really… really too cute!!

“Welcome back, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu greets. The rhythmic thumping of Luo Binghe’s tail gets a bit quicker. “Can you speak like this?”

Luo Binghe’s tail stills, and Shen Qingqiu instantly feels some regret at the loss. Still, he supposes that answers that, then.

“That’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Just - ah, make some sort of noise if I do anything that hurts. I’m just going to examine you real quick, alright?”

Slowly, Shen Qingqiu approaches, ducking under Luo Binghe’s massive head to reach his flank. This close, he can get a better idea of what hurt Luo Binghe.

…He almost wishes he hadn’t looked. The bloodied areas missing scales look very much like they’d been inflicted with a giant mouth rather than a sword glare.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighs. “One tail wag for ‘yes,’ two for ‘no’: did you rip some of these scales out yourself?”

Luo Binghe stubbornly keeps his tail perfectly still. Frustrated, Shen Qingqiu reaches out to rap his knuckles across an undamaged part of Luo Binghe’s flank in scolding. 

“Your healing abilities may be beyond anything a cultivator could imagine, but you can not heal a curse by trying to rip apart the cursed bits and hope they heal properly, you foolish disciple!”

Luo Binghe’s tail thumps twice against the ground defiantly. Shen Qingqiu can practically hear the retort: It worked the time with the Frost Bees, Shizun!

“The Frost Bees do not count,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs. “Nor does the time with the Crowned Pit Viper Clan: they used cursed objects, which spread the curse from the object to the wearer. Lopping off your arm worked because it stopped the spread from the bracelets, not because you were tearing off an affected piece and letting it heal back to an uncursed state.”

Luo Binghe already knows this, of course. Shen Qingqiu had scolded him quite enough at the times it had happened. Regardless of the fact that it worked, there are better ways to do these things!!

Shen Qingqiu sighs again, suddenly feeling very exhausted, and leans his weight on Luo Binghe’s flank. It’s very warm. Luo Binghe bends the long length of his neck to snuffle worriedly at Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu pets at his giant snout reassuringly. 

Slowly, he starts to feed Luo Binghe some of his qi, directing it to the spots that were damaged. They’ve already healed, of course - despite Luo Binghe’s continued reckless abandon for his own wellbeing, he has stopped trying to keep his injuries around for Shen Qingqiu to dote on after realizing just how much it distressed Shen Qingqiu - but Shen Qingqiu offers his healing qi all the same.

It gives him something to focus on, to distract him from just how much he does not want to have this conversation.

“This master… it isn’t a bother to help resolve any curses that may be inflicted upon you.”

That is - if it’s to help out Luo Binghe, it isn’t a bother to cure things in the way traditional to Proud Immortal Demon Way. Er, that is - 

Well, of course Shen Qingqiu is referring to papapa!

Luo Binghe is still for a moment, and then noses at Shen Qingqiu insistently. Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Well, if you don’t like not being able to be a part of this conversation, maybe you shouldn’t have done anything foolish to prompt it!” He scolds. “If you’d just come to get me normally, instead of tearing at your scales and scaring the disciples and somehow getting Liu-Shidi involved -!”

Luo Binghe noses at him some more. 

“Yes, yes, it’s fine, I sent him away. Honestly, though, I don’t know why you didn’t just come get me! We could have had this all sorted by now, no Liu-Shidi needed to begin with!”

Luo Binghe makes a pathetic noise, shoving his snout into Shen Qingqiu hard enough it knocks the breath out of him.

“Aiya, I get it, I get it, no mentioning other people when we’re about to -” Shen Qingqiu breaks off, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Luo Binghe does not stop his ugly sounding whines. Finally, Shen Qingqiu is forced to realize that Luo Binghe’s concerns may be different than he’d been assuming.

“...Is there a reason you didn’t come get me, then? Outside of your pride?” 

Luo Binghe only stares at Shen Qingqiu unblinkingly. If Shen Qingqiu were to assign a human emotion to the reptilian face, he’d say it was one of disbelief. 

Slowly, Luo Binghe looks down at his massive paws, and the deadly claws on the ends of them. Shen Qingqiu notes with interest that the shape of them is more like a cat’s than a lizard’s, and he wonders idly if the claws extend and retract in the same way that a cat’s does. How much force would he have to use to push Luo Binghe’s claws into their extended state? Are his toes webbed like a cat’s, as well?

Then Shen Qingqiu blinks, remembering that he was trying to have a cross-species conversation here, not that this input from Luo Binghe makes any sense in the current conversation.

“The house is already a mess,” Shen Qingqiu dismisses. “The bed will surely not be any more damaged by your claws now than it already has been.”

Luo Binghe blinks slowly at Shen Qingqiu; one - two pairs of eyelids! Fascinating! Then he turns once more, this dipping his head to look down and back at -

Ah. Belatedly, Shen Qingqiu understands, and then feels a rush of embarrassment at the fact that he had to be directed to look at Luo Binghe’s transformed heavenly pillar - pillars? There’s two of them down there?!! - to get it at all. Right. Of course Luo Binghe would assume that dual cultivation may not be an option in this form. 

…For being the former protagonist of a stallion novel, Luo Binghe is really, painfully vanilla at times! 

Shen Qingqiu coughs, his face warming.

“That - that’s also not an issue. For me.”

There’s a twitch at the bottom half of Luo Binghe’s body. 

…There really are two of them down there, ah!!

Shen Qingqiu flushes darker.

“It’s really no problem,” he says again. “It’s this master’s job to help when you need it. And -”

Shen Qingqiu cuts off, clears his throat, then clears it again.

“Well,” he eventually says. “Binghe was gone a long time.”

Slowly, Luo Binghe’s tail starts to wag again. 

“...It was far longer than three days,” Shen Qingqiu says, speaking mostly to the ground. “So, mathematically, it makes sense if perhaps what is done tonight is done in ‘double’ than usual, to make up for double the time -”

Gingerly, Luo Binghe catches the back of Shen Qingqiu’s robes between his teeth, picks up up, and carries him back to the bedroom.