#smudge it. basically just make it look like youre sick

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

ive got my party poison hair and im trying back on the purple doctor jacket i bought last year and havent really dared to try on again and ive got a pale green blouse and dark blue tie with flower patterns and i’ll need a bit of practice and a bit of time but im gonna have such a good gender one day

[lovebugism]

66. you’re sick and I feel bad because I’m pretty sure i gave it to you, so I bring you some of my great grandmother’s soup and watch movies with you with Eddie Spaghetti please 🥺

ty for requesting!! — eddie makes you soup (like the angel he is) after accidentally getting you sick (friends in love, fluff, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It’s a virtually impossible thing, you realize, to operate like a normal human being when you’re sick. 

You’re reduced to a withering thing on your couch, rotting from the inside and out, and drowning in a sea of crumpled-up tissues. In your fever-induced hysteria, you’re pretty sure you’re dying when a knock sounds at your door. 

You shout a hoarse “come in” with all the strength you have left. The last person you expect to walk in is Eddie Munson.

He’s wearing smudged eyeliner and a pink smile when enters your living room. His chestnut hair is more wild than you’re used to, but his eyes are made of a familiar melted chocolate. There’s a plastic bag in his pale, ringed hand, full of stuff you can’t make out.

You think he might be an angel. 

“Eddie?” you sigh in a tiny voice, scratchy and quiet. 

You look at him like no one’s ever looked at him before. Not like you’re excited to see him. No, it’s more than that — it’s like you’re relieved. Like out of a billion people that could’ve stepped through that doorway, you’re happiest that it’s him.

He cowers under the weight of your twinkling, tired gaze. 

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry to, like, come over without calling or anything,” he apologizes, laughing awkwardly as he shifts his weight on his dirty sneakers. “But I felt a little bad about getting you sick at Steve’s the other night. I was gonna stay home, but Dustin wanted me to go. He insisted on it, actually—”

He’s rambling like an idiot, making a total fool of himself. He doesn’t know why you’re smiling so gently at him like you find it all endearing. “It’s not your fault, Eds,” you assure, voice slightly stuffy, as you shake your head at him.

“Well, it kinda is, actually, so…” Another awkward laugh tumbles from his smiling mouth. In his shyness, his gaze flits from yours to the bag in his hand. “I, uh— I wanted to do something nice, you know? Like, make you soup or something. But then I realized I don’t actually know how to cook, so I went to the store and got some of the canned stuff.”

“Oh,” you hum, then sniffle. “Thank you, Eddie. That’s— That’s really nice of you.”

“It’s no problem. Really. I can make it for you if you want. Or microwave it, I guess. So you can, you know, rest of whatever.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.”

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” you agonize, face scrunched with a distant worry.

Eddie grins at your concern and shrugs off every ounce of it. “I already had it. So I’m basically immune at this point, right? I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s how the science works, anyway.”

You laugh for the first time in three days. You forget how sick you are until the action makes your chest ache. Your smile is weighed down by exhaustion, but it doesn’t waver once when you look at him. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Even though your muscles are achy, you manage to walk yourself to the kitchen. You tell Eddie you can put the soup on yourself, but he isn’t having any of it. He walks you back to the couch and warms it up for you — even puts it in a heart-shaped bowl he found in your cabinet, ‘cause he thought it might make you feel a little better.

He tastes it with a separate spoon to make sure it isn’t too hot, then rushes back to your side in record time.

“Thank you,” you murmur when he passes you the newly warmed-up soup. The words come out more scratchy than you mean for them to. You try to clear your throat, but you don’t think it makes it any better.

“Don’t thank me— I’m the reason you’re in this mess,” he laughs and sits on the couch beside you. He keeps a cushion of space between you, lest he get any closer and make you uncomfortable. “So, I’m not, like, above spoon-feeding it to you or anything.”

You try to laugh at his dumb joke. It comes out in a single, hoarse breath that makes your chest sting. “I think I got it from here. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Eddie runs out of stupid things to say and the apartment goes silent. 

Your TV plays so low it’s basically on mute, and your neighbors talk on their porch outside — the sound of both gets increasingly louder without either of you talking over them.

He doesn’t know what to say — how to tell you that he’d like to spend more time with you without actually having to say the words. Confessing his schoolboy crush out loud, to the pretty girl he got sick, would be the least metal thing he’s ever done.

“Do you wanna, like, put on a movie or something?” he offers suddenly, rubbing his ringed fingers on his dark jeans to make them feel less clammy. “I can run to Family Video and bother Steve until he lets me take something for free? Unless you’re, like, totally sick of me— which would be totally understandable—”

“No,” you interject with a shake of your head, still trying to smile even though it takes so much energy out of you. “I mean, I’d like that, but…”

“But?” Eddie repeats when you trail off, brows raised behind his fluffy bangs.

You tilt your chin to your chest and peer at him through your lashes. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, still pretty enough to drown in. “Don’t you have a show tonight?” you remind him in a gentle whisper.

His heart would swell at the thought of you knowing his show schedule if it wasn’t already dropping to his ass. He’d nearly forgotten all about it, too worried about you to remember the ten people at The Hideout waiting for him.

“Fuck…” he groans and slumps against the couch. His head tilts back and bears his pretty neck for you. You can see his pale jaw clench and his adam’s apple bob when he swallows. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

“You can go. It’s okay,” you assure gently.

His chocolate eyes melt for you when he opens them again. He looks sincerely apologetic, like leaving you hurts him the most. “I’d totally stay, but—”

“I get it. It’s fine,” you repeat, still grinning ‘cause you don’t know how else to look at him. You duck your sheepish gaze to the bowl in your lap and try to joke. “I’ll survive until tomorrow… I think.”

Eddie sits up again and leans closer to you. You get a better whiff of his musky cologne and the nicotine on his breath. “You better. ‘Cause I’m definitely coming over, and we’re definitely watching a movie, alright? All day until you’re sick of me.”

Your smile grows despite your exhaustion. You feel like this is his way of asking you out — like you’re too sick and he’s too nervous, and he’d love to do it some other way, but this is all he’s got for now. It’s more than enough for you.

“Sure,” you say with a firm nod.

“I can bring you more food, too, if you want! Whatever you feel like— say that word, and you got it.”

You falter for an answer to his sudden question.

He shakes his head. “That’s okay. Call me later if you want. I should be home around ten, if that’s not too late?”

“Okay,” you smile, then clear your throat when the word gets caught there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow— Feel better by then, okay? That’s an order,” he jokes and stands back up again. 

He doesn’t know what compels him to kiss you on the cheek — only that it felt right to do it and that he didn’t even realize he was doing it until his lips brushed your warm jaw.

His cinnamon eyes go wide. His rosy mouth falls softly agape. He looks more surprised than you do, but you’re not entirely sure that’s possible. A moment you’ve been thinking about for ages just happened before you could blink. 

You don’t think that’s very fair.

Eddie tries to laugh it off. “Forget I just did that… That was— That was really weird. Sorry.”

Your cheeks burn like fire. Not from the fever this time, but from the boy in front of you. From the yearning to feel him close again. 

“I’ll talk to you tonight,” you promise, even though your throat still burns. You’re not sure you care too much, anymore. You wanna talk to him until you can’t anymore.

“Yeah,” he sighs, breathless for a reason he can’t name. He walks backwards towards the door. “See you around,” he says finally, before spinning on his sneakers and nearly tripping over your carpet.

You blink, and he’s gone. Again. 

Your burning cheek still tingles with the imprint of his mouth. He’d asked you to forget, but you don’t think that’s possible. There’s no forgetting him at all.

[tomssexdoll]

HOI🖖👽 sooooOOOOOooo can you do a Tom kaulitz x fem! reader

Like were he says sumthing he didn’t mean like:example,he said something about ur past that’s a VERY touchy subject during an argument

Add fluff at the end pls🙏🙏🙏🥺

(IF UR NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THID ITS OK 👌🙂🙂🙂)

MK HOT STUFF GURLYS GOTTA GOOO😜😜😜😜 BOIIIIIIYUHHHH👋👋👋👋

hiii cutie ofc

I didn't mean it

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST + FLUFF SYPNOSIS: During an argument Tom brings up something really touchy from the past as an insult, you're heartbroken and hurt from his words, he instantly apologises and tries to make it up to you. A/N: AHHH WARNINGS: yelling, !!!!VERY GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND A SMALL MENTION OF RAPE!!!!!!!!

Me and Tom were yet again in an argument, I got upset at him because he's been neglecting me, staying out late, not even touching me or holding me, nothing.

I brought it up to him this morning and it just exploded into an argument, him being defensive as usual.

"I'm so sick of you being so fucking controlling y/n!" he grunted, storming up the stairs. I scoffed and followed him closely "don't walk away from me Tom! You always do this, always running away when confronted with the truth!" I yelled.

"Because you take things so seriously! I just wanted time alone is that so hard to ask for?" he sighed heavily.

I grunted, him clearly not getting the point, "it's not that I don't want you to have alone time it's just that you're basically avoiding me!" I followed him into the bedroom, he was trying to find something to do to disract himself.

"Listen to me!" I grabbed his arm and turned him to face me, my eyes staring deeply into his, rage washing over them. "There's nothing to talk about!" he pushed past me, going into the bathroom.

I kept on yelling at him, following him into it, he turned around, hand on the doorframe and yelled "no wonder why your friend killed himself, he couldn't fucking stand being around you and neither can I"

My heart shattered instantly, the memories of my best friend killing themselves, him being in my arms as he died.

LISTEN TO TV BY BILLIE EILISH PAST THIS POINT I SWEAR IT MAKES A HUGE DIFFERENCE

6 years ago my best friend Arnie died, he was a gentle soul. He was gay and was heavily bullied about it, drowned in the toilets, food thrown at him, followed home. Arnie had learned to have thick skin, not allowing that to get to him, he knew they were just miserable with their lives and I loved that about Arnie.

The last straw for Arnie was when he was raped at a house party in 2008, the last time I saw him happy was when we seperated, I was hooking up with a random boy and he wished me goodluck. When I finished and tried to find Arnie, he was sprawled across a bed, bleeding from his back side.

I rushed to his aid and discovered that he was raped. Arnie was different after that, didn't insult back, was super quiet, didn't hang out with me after school like we usualy did.

I tried to offer help but nothing worked. One day I went to his house, he wasn't answering my calls or texts and his parents were out of town for the week. I found it weird that the door was unlocked, I went inside and into his bedroom.

I wish I didn't see what he had done, everyday it replays in my mind. I have nightmares about it every few nights.

I walked into his bathroom, he was in the bathtub, wrists on the edge of the tub, cut so deeply. I stood there for a second, shocked, trying to take in what I saw. After 10 seconds I screamed, running to him and holding him tightly, examining his wounds. 7 deep cut wounds, he was bleeding so much, the bathroom tiles covered in them.

My knees smudged the blood around as I held him, sobbing uncontrollably. "No no no..arnie you're ok.." I whispered, stroking his hair gently. He looked at me briefly, the life draining from his eyes "i'm sorry...i love you.." he muttered before taking his last breath, dying in my arms.

I screamed for him, my vocal cords ready to burst. Some neighbours called the police from my screaming, they came in and rushed to the scene, practically ripping me off Arnie.

"No! No no no! He'll be ok!" I sobbed, trying to get back to him, "ARNIE!" I screamed, the female officer held me close, stroking my hair softly, "he's gone baby...i'm sorry.." she whispered softly, I looked up at her, a tear falling down her cheek.

I buried my face into her chest, her vest cold and hard on my face.

They carried his body out, I couldn't bare to look and just stood there frozen. Later on the police women gave me a note he wrote, it read:

Dear my beloved Y/N,

I'm so sorry you have to read this, I'm sorry for even doing this. I know it's stupid and I know i'm supposed to have thick skin but I can't do it anymore, after what he did to me I haven't been able to eat, sleep or do anything properly, it runs through my head all the time, that memory of what he did never leaves my memory. It's driving me crazy Y/N, I wanted to stay strong for you, I wanted us to grow up and see each other get married, have kids, go through breakups together, live our 20s to the fullest, party like theres no tomorrow but I can't do it anymore. I wanted to be your best friend forever, be friends until we die, but I guess my fate is early. You know I love you more than life itself, you showed me it's ok to be me. You helped and guided me through everything but it's time for me to go, I love you and I'll be watching over you. Keep being your weird self and never forget me

Your soulmate, Arnie.

My heart was shattered into a million pieces, I still have that note to this day, I can't leave the house without it near me.

I got a tattoo of the last line, in his handwriting, 'your soulmate, arnie'. (inspired by evieskiess book my one and only <3)

BACK TO PRESENT:

My eyes widened, heart breaking into a million pieces, the heartbreak from that night coming back. My body went stiff, frozen in place. Unable to say anything.

Toms face instantly softened, he rushed towards me and started to apologise profusely, "oh honey no..i'm so sorry, I was just mad and I wasn't thinking straight, you know I didn't mean it", I looked at him, a stray tear falling down my cheek.

"Don't touch me.." I whispered softly, pushing him off me and walking to the bed, sitting on it. I bursted out into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, the tears unable to stop. All the pain I had tried to forget coming back.

He rushed to my side and held me tightly, "no baby..I'm so sorry, I'm so so so sorry" his voice thick with emotion, I could tell he was telling the truth but I was just so shocked, so hurt by his harsh words.

"Why.." my voice broke slightly "why would you say such a thing.." I choked out a sob, covered my mouth with my hands, they were trembling violently.

"I don't know..it was an in the moment thing, I didn't mean it at all, I'm so sorry baby I will do anything to make it up to you I swear, I love you with all my heart" he started to cry, tears falling down his cheeks as he buried his face in my shoulder.

My heart ached at him crying, I really wanted to forgive him but my heart just couldn't. I stood up and sighed, "I'm sleeping on the couch.." he nodded, standing up and brushing stray hairs from my face, kissing my forehead softly.

"I love you baby..." he whispered before letting me go, I turned my head to look at him and sighed "i love you too.." before walking off to the living room.

I sat on the couch, staring into nothing, my heart heavy and my eyes red. I rolled up my sleeve and stared at the tattoo, grazing a finger over it. I grabbed the note from my pocket and held it against my chest, laying back onto the couch, slowly falling asleep.

A few hours later I was woken up by soft arms wrapping around my waist, holding me close. I turned around, placing the note in my pocket and looking up at Tom.

"I know you didn't mean it baby..but I'm still hurt" I mumbled, he nodded slowly "I know baby..I know..i'm so sorry" he rested his chin on my head, stroking my hair softly just like the female officer did. I felt comforted, safe in his arms, again, just like I felt with the female officer.

"Do you want to go back to bed schatz?" he said softly, I sniffled and nodded, getting up and holding his hand, walking towards our shared bedroom. I grabbed one of his shirts and put it on, slipping into bed.

He smiled softly and slipped behind me, pulling me closer and wrapping his strong arms around my frame, keeping me warm and safe. "I'll make it up to you..I swear" he sighed, kissing the top of my head lightly.

"I'll be home more, I'll take you to band practices, I'll take you out with me, I'll do anything for you baby, I'm sorry I neglected you, treated you so badly.." his voice shaky "I love you, you're my world, my beautiful wife, my light. I'll do anything it takes to change, anything at all" I slowly turned around again, looking up at him, looking into his eyes for any sign of deceit, but all that presented was sincerity. Pure honesty. His eyes soft and gentle, willing to do anything for me.

I tucked a stray stand behind his ear, kissing him softly. "I love you..thankyou for that.." I smiled softly.

"I've always wondered though, why do you always keep his note with you?" he tilted his head, genuinely curious. I chuckled softly, "I don't know, it's the only thing I have left of him, something to remember him by" I frowned, tears welling up in my eyes again, "it's a reminder to me that he loved me and to keep going without him" Tom winced at my pain, stroking my hair gently and nodding.

"I understand..I'll keep it safe for you always" he kissed me softly, I smiled "thankyou baby.." I muttered before falling asleep in his arms.

E/N: I sobbed so hard while writing this no joke

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomscumdump @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdoll @syylss @ge-billsgf @miyukafujii @charliesgoodboy @20doozers @ballhair @bkaulitzlover

[zyonsay]

Blinding Lights

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Warnings: NSFW-> guk guk 3000,Alcohol, Gay shit

Reader: Male

Word count: 1'655 Words

Song i listened to while writing: "I threw at my friend's eyes and now im on probation" by Destroy Boys

AN: Hey :] Lemme know what u thought about this! Im open for tips, as i still struggle with writing. Also this is like the first time i wrote smut. Deadass. But anyways, Enjoy!

Your black military boots made a slouching, wet sound as you walked through the city streets of London. It had rained earlier, but that didn’t stop you from having fun at the club.

The entrance that greeted you looked absolutely disgusting, the only thing you’d expect to occupy the old sewage system would be rats or some old, sick stray dogs. But behind the big, withered cloth that probably inhabited maggots a dimly lit, colorful tunnel hid itself. It was covered in Graffiti and colorful bottles hung from the ceiling. Loud music could be heard from the other end, which was covered by a dark blue curtain, resembling the night sky you had abandoned just a few minutes ago.

The colorful lights blinded you temporarily, but you felt right at home. This was one of the less popular meet up spots for underground artist and queer people. It wasn’t just some nightclub, it was a safe space for all kinds of people, that’s why you loved it so much. You too were very much part of the LGBTQ+ community, so you sought out your nightclubs very carefully. Being involved in a hate crime wasn’t exactly on your bucket list, obviously.

 Some unknown band was absolutely tearing up the stage with their messily decorated instruments. People were dancing, drinking, and singing. It was a big chaos, but you felt at peace, surrounded by your people. The big, broad room was filled with a bar, a few sofas and the stage and it was also thoroughly decorated with graffiti, more colorful bottles, and fairy lights.

You ordered yourself some alcohol, vodka being your favorite. The band was finishing up their last song, then thanked the lively crowd. Then another band stepped foot on the stage, their guitarist and lead singer looking familiar. You’ve seen him around a lot, but you’ve never talked to him. You were basically eye banging him, he looked very good. The way his eyeliner had already smudged made him even more attractive. It almost seemed like he read your thoughts, because he stared right at you, a big grin plastered on his face. You thought it might’ve just been your imagination, the crowd was way too big for him to have looked at you specifically.

The band began performing their first song, the mass of people around you immediately started dancing and singing. Everybody was having a good time, including you. You were dancing with your drink still in your hand, gripping it tightly as the alcohol was way too expensive for you to spill it. You directed your glance towards the stage again, wanting to grace your eyes with the hot man shredding his guitar solo. People were cheering and clapping for the young man, showing him exactly how amazing he is. He continued singing the lyrics to his song and while doing so he grinded against the mic stand, firing on his ego even more.

People were screaming at his cheeky action, a drowned “GET ME PREGNANT!!!” could be heard from the other side of the crowd, many people laughing at that. The punk on stage was smirking at that, though he was seemingly looking at you again.

Now shit got absolutely wild, he was pointing at you and then pointed to the door, which hid a storage room for the band’s instruments. You grinned at him, taking another sip of your drink. He then sang along to the suggestive lyrics of his song, looking at you again, making a very distinctive gesture with his hands. He wanted you to blow him. You felt hazy, blood rushing to your face as you smirked at him, nodding while raising your drink to him.

His band finished their set, people were cheering them on, excited for their next song. Meanwhile a young woman went on stage and announced a campaign for disabled people, receiving a lot of cheers and support.

You on the other hand had made your way to the storage room, feeling a hot, burning feeling in your core. Your cheeks were slightly reddened – whether it was from the alcohol or from your excitement, no one knows. You must admit, giving a blowie to a random guitarist wasn’t the most unhinged thing you’ve ever done. You really didn’t care to be modest anyways.

Then suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around and look at whoever was behind you. You were greeted with two beautiful brown eyes and a cheeky grin.  

“Sorry if I put you on the spot there, mate” You smirked at him, then replied “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t want to, but who would say no to you?” You smiled, checking the person opposing you. He was tall and handsome, something mischievous glimmering in his eyes. He smiled at you, slowly growing impatient, since there wasn’t much time in between his band’s sets.

He led you into the storage rooms, revealing a sofa and wall covered in mirrors. This was probably where the bands waited for their performance and could freshen up their makeup. “By the way, I’m Hobie Brown.” The man now known to you as Hobie sat down on the sofa, gesturing you to come over. “Names’ Y/N.” You muttered with a smile, eyeing the bulge building up in the punk’s pants. You shifted closer to Hobie, not wanting to waste too much time. You settled between his legs, kneeling on the orange and pink patterned carpet.

You started fiddling with his belt, looking up with your big eyes, almost looking innocent if it wasn’t on the big smirk on your visage. “Ready?”, you were barely whispering. The young man, who was looking down at you with a grin only nodded his head. You opened up his jeans, slightly pulling them down to give you space for slutty activities. You touched his member through his plain grey boxers, that already had a wet spot on them, revealing his excitement. Hobie let out an impatient groan, wanting you all over him this instant. You quickly got rid of the remaining cloth in your way, your own erection pressing painfully against your jeans. You took his cock in your hand, Hobie hissed at the feeling of your soft hands around him.  You pumped him slowly, before leading your lips towards his tip, enjoying yourself a lot. “Mmmhhhh…” The man above you threw his head back. You then took more of his dick into your mouth, enjoying the feeling. You swirled your tongue along his shaft, earning quiet grunts and sighs from Hobie. He gripped a handful of your fluffy hair, slightly fucking into your mouth.

He looked at you through lust filled eyes, a pleading expression painting his face. “Can I fuck your mouth?”, he whimpered.

 You nodded, slowly letting his member out of your mouth. He stood up, facing your kneeling figure. You got right back to savoring him, as he held you by your hair again. He then began thrusting into your mouth, enjoying the wet, warm feeling. He still held back some of his length, waiting for you to look at him with your doe eyes. He smirked down at you, whispering something along the lines of “Get ready, darling”.

 You took the rest of his cock into your mouth, tears building in the corner of your eyes. Hobie fucked your throat slowly at first, but quickly fell into a more violent pace. You glanced to the side, seeing a sinful scene playing in the mirrors covering the wall. It could’ve well been a baroque painting on the wall of a filthy rich art critique. But there you were, in an underground nightclub, full of drunk queers, sucking off a musician. 

Hobie was now thrusting at a devilish fast pace, using you like a cheap toy to get off on. He looked at you, grinning at your face. “You gonna swallow, like the good little slut you are?” You nodded slightly, not wanting to disturb his pleasure. Your own dick was pulsing in your pants, starved from any kind of stimulation. You were stabilizing yourself by holding the back of Hobies thigh, feeling slightly dizzy due to alcohol and lust. You wanted to make the man in front of you feel good, even tough you merely met him a few minutes ago.

Your thoughts were cut off by Hobies cock twitching in your mouth, you quickly looked up at him, watching happily as he threw his head back and let out a moan. “Ngahhh… Fuck!” Thick ropes of cum flowed down your throat. You tried your best to swallow all of it, as you didn’t want any of the white fluids landing on the fluffy carpet beneath you. Even though this carpet is probably covered in it anyways, you thought to yourself. This was a messy nightclub after all.

Hobie slowly pulled out, grinning down at you again. He pets your fluffy hair, with you sitting at his feet like an obedient dog. “Good Boy.” The punk zipped his pants up again, as you got up from the floor, straightening your messed up clothes. Paying little to no attention to Hobie, you didn’t expect him to tip your chin up. He captured your lips in a feverish hot kiss, getting a taste of himself. You two then parted, leaving a fragile strand of saliva between you two. Outside of the storage room, a loud voice announced Hobies band again, receiving many loud cheers. “Gotta go sweetheart”, he turned around to leave, when you gripped his wrist gently. You looked at him, smirking.

 “Ya wanna come home with me later?”, you received a mischievous look from the man. You cocked your eyebrow, wanting an answer. Hobie then leaned forward, leaving a small kiss on your neck. “Deffo.” He then left the storage room, leaving you with weak legs. You were definitely planning to take this man home tonight.

[leakyweep]

If you're still doing the smut prompts could I get

You're saying you want to ride my face? With Corazon please because I need to see that lipstick all messy 🥵

AHHH my baby my cinnamon apple coraaa~ thank you for the request my love!

As soon as Cora returned from one of his missions, you basically pushed him towards the bed and insisted he get comfy on his back. It had been weeks since you'd seen him, and other than a few late nights pleasuring yourselves through the mushi, you hadn't been able to make love to him in a while. He welcomed your curvy form on top of him, smiling with wonder at the way you eagerly removed your panties and straddled his waist.

"Looks like you missed me..." he whispered, smirking at you from below as you pushed his golden bangs back and out of the way.

"Of course I did, mi amor~" you answered, as if it should have been obvious you yearned to fall asleep with your lover every night, "And now I'm gonna use you to take care of myself."

You began to crawl towards his face, his scarred, muscled arms welcoming you to sit your beautiful, glistening cunt onto his red-painted lips. "You're saying you wanna ride my face?" He asked eagerly, always ready to please when needed.

"No, I'm going to WWE slam you from above and do a sick backflip off the headboard." You stuck out your tongue at him playfully, a sly smile on your features as you lowered your pussy onto his mouth. A moan rippled from your throat as he immediately began circling your clit with his tongue, squeezing the fat of your ass in his capable palms.

"Don't get smart with me," he gasped between licks, eyeing you from right below your mound, "I'll make a mess out of you."

"Aren't you already?" You asked with mock disappointment, motioning to the red lipstick smeared across your thighs, "I-hah- mean, just look at how smudged your lipstick is."

He pulled away for a moment, eyes hazed with lust and devotion, to glaze them across your cunt lips and lush thighs. He chuckled a bit before continuing to lap at your folds. "What can I say? It's my favorite way to see you. Even better if you had those pretty red ribbons we've got to tie up your wrists and let me have my way."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Mod: batchpost 4 for this topic

TW: Sexualization of (fictional) minors discussion

1. Yeah actually I agree with the person saying stuff about sexualized dolls should be tagged/warned for. It's really weird that this is discussed so much on websites frequented by minors ngl, admin, do better

~Anonymous

Mod: I agree with your agreement anon, I hope this format works better for most of you

2. I just want to hit all of you fuckers talking about fiction and reality being the same thing with a crowbar. I am mentally envisioning hitting you with a crowbar. Emotionally, I am hitting you with a crowbar. Physically, you are unharmed! Funny how that works. If thought crimes were real I'd Thanos snap you annoying little shits but unfortunately the world doesn't work the way you think it does. Stop shitting up every single corner of the internet with your moral crusade you bitchy neo-puritans.

~Anonymous

3. Honestly I want the hobby to be a more unsafe space for everyone too sensitive to learn to block and scroll harder because maybe if they don't feel safe they'll leave and no one will have to hear them complaining that they were emotionally traumatized for life and groomed by some random person posting a doll with a bit of sideboob. Stop trivializing real issues and find another hobby, you are literally more annoying than the people minding their own business making doll porn in peace and quiet.

~Anonymous

4. I literally do not care if someone shoves a YoSD up their hoo-hah to fulfill an unbirthing fetish, it's still not even remotely the same as scarring a real person for life and if you can't see why that is, you need serious, serious help. I am so sick of hearing this shit, like actively fed up and exhausted by it. I just... like my god. Shut up. Your sanctimonious moral aggrandizing doesn't make you right it just makes you insufferable and miserable people to exist around. Please go outside.

~Anonymous

5. if i see anyone ~naming and shaming~ someone as an ~abusive toxic pedophile~ for the crime of (looks at smudged writing on hand) owning a doll, i'm going to go out of my way to find your irl info so i can ask your parents how they fucked up this hard at raising you. you are not the protagonist of 'to catch a predator', the "last stand" against the ravages of horny crimes. you are basically the reincarnation of my pearl-clutching great aunt eva with the ability to use the internet and you suck.

~Anonymous

[teacupsandcyanide]

how to customise your blog from within the app

With the whole Twitter exploding into a million tiny pieces situation we’re seeing a lot of people who haven’t been around for a good while or are completely/mostly new to Tumblr, and I’ve been seeing a lot of posts from regular tumblrinas saying “please change from the default icon and settings, you look like a bot”. I’ve been wanting to make some posts about fun ways to customise your tumblr experience and I thought I’d start with a basic bitch tutorial on what you can customise from within the app.

To give the app version of your blog the equivalent of a sick new haircut, go to the lil guy who lives in the bottom right? (?? I think it’s the right. I have dyscalculia but I promise I’m otherwise mostly reliable) side of your dash. Give him a smack on his phat bald head to gain entry to your profile page. Then go to the paint palette icon at the top of your profile.

From here you can change four five things:

Your blog title. This is different from your url and it doesn’t have to match your url or be unique, unless you personally feel the need to be unique. You can change it by tapping it to start editing; when you do you’ll see three menus come up. “Title” is where you change what the title is. “Font” allows you to select a font and some of the fonts have a bolded option. “Colour” will give you a colour sampler to pick a colour from. You don’t have to have a title and you can turn it off under the “font” menu, but having one will make it clearer that you aren’t a bot, especially if you don’t choose “sexyangiebabymilf6969” for your title.

Your bio. I have a Van Gogh quote because I have a separate about page*, so I’m fine letting my bio just be a faintly pretentious smudge of mystique. Other people will often have whatever name they go by online, their pronouns, and sometimes their age and what their main interests are, eg fandom, hobbies, special interests, you know, the neurodiverse slut stuff. People also put links there sometimes using html coding*, like the kids put their caard and some people put ko-fi. You can change your bio by tapping on it to edit. You don’t have to have a bio and can turn it off, but if you have one people will be much less likely to think you’re a bot, and they’ll get some vague idea of who you are and what content you like to paste into your online scrapbook.

Your blog background colour. This can be changed by tapping on the “background” button.

Your accent colour. This can be changed by tapping on the “accent” button.

Your header image. This can be changed by tapping on your header, and you’re able to zoom into a chosen picture to or drag it to reposition. You can also turn off your header or choose whether or not to stretch the image to the necessary size.

Your icon/avatar. This can be changed by tapping on the icon. You can choose to hide your avatar on your profile (it will still be visible on the dash), and select a square or round frame.

Extra note on colour customising. You can pick out a truly custom colour by messing about with the slider and colour sampler, but if you want quick and easy or you’re shite at colour sampling you can click on the circles of colour above the slider to see a range of different preset shades, including greyscale. Each circle has a range of a few pages you can swipe through. If they all turn out to be shite you can go back to the slider by clicking the rainbow circle.

Each time you change an aspect of your profile and are satisfied with it, hit “update” up in the corner before moving to the next thing. Once all the edits are made save them by hitting “save”, also in the upper corner.

Resources for headers and icons can be found by looking through the “headers” and “icons” tags. Please follow the rules of the people who make and share those (they’re usually just “don’t claim it’s your edit, don’t repost, and leave a like or reblog” but each person has their own). I’d also recommend image searching for patterns, as you can tile your header if you use a seamless pattern image, and looking through livejournal for icons (again, please follow creator rules, icons take time to make).

*This post is hopefully a precursor to a post or numerous posts about how you can customise your blog outside the app appearance, including adding pages and using coding to put links wherever you want, and I plan to link to more resources for customisation in said post/s. When/if I get around to writing that I’ll drop a link in a comment or reblog of this post.

Godspeed, have fun finding out how much of the bee movie script you can fit in your bio I remain ever faithfully yours etc

[unwilling-survivor]

(An interlude, following up this thread with @facesofthefog) (tw emetophobia) (basically an epilogue to that thread)

~*~

Sam’s eyes shot open, the blinding light of the campfire filling her view, and she stumbled away just in time.

Knees jarred against the ground, doubling over as she purged whatever poison seemed to be caught in her chest. Black bile, a bitter ichor that clung to her tongue and made her eyes water. Her palms stung from slapping the ground, neck ached, throat burned— bad. It was all bad.

Spitting, she tried to clear the taste from her mouth, swiping her sleeve across her eyes to clear the fog of unwanted tears. She ignored the dark smudge left on fabric, assuming it was just the wet of tears. It was too dim to see anything properly anyway, though she was still disconcerted— was it blood? What else could be so dark and - ew, clotted? Whatever it was it felt awful, and she quickly turned away, pulling up leaves and grass and debris to bury the evidence.

What the fuck had just happened? She felt sick to her stomach— well, apparently quite literally. She remembered it almost like a dream, as if she wasn’t entirely in control, and any degree of satisfaction was outweighed by guilt and the disconcerting sense of Other.

“Sam?”

She gestured loosely in the direction of the asker, trying to wave off any interest even as she scrambled for a believable excuse. “I’m-” Something caught in her throat and she spat, then tried again. “I’m fine.” Something believable? “Plague mori.” Hopefully no one just got out of a match with the rotting priestess to check her facts.

The excuse must’ve been credible enough, because her fellow survivor didn’t pry any further. And Sam was left to stew in what the fuck on her own, head spinning and mouth sour. Fuck, she’d kill for a bed and a cold bottle of water right now. But she may have just ruined her one shot at a safe haven, all thanks to… what? Spite? Anger?

Sam stared at the ground, unsettled. …Whatever that was, it was something beyond just one bad impulse.

Letting out a breath, she sat back on her heels, cradling a head that was starting to ache. Why now? Hadn’t she been through enough? This place was already hell, why add in this new element? The element of something is in your body and it hates you and everything around you. Then again, that wasn’t exactly a new thought.

Groaning, Sam let herself keel sideways and roll onto her back. She had to apologize to Simon. There was no doubt about that. Whatever had just happened, she hadn’t been in her right mind, hadn’t been in control, and undoubtedly she’d done something to lash out and hurt everyone involved. If she gave in to any darker impulse, that was usually how it went; no one was spared, especially not Sam herself.

The actual dissociating and physical manifestations of toxicity were new though.

Charming.

Hh. Okay, she’d just have to find her way back to Simon’s place. Or… or fuckin… make him a card or some shit. A half-hysterical huff of laughter jarred her frame before Sam pressed a hand across her eyes. It’s fine, you’re just insane. Calm down.

…But that creeping numbness seeping through her didn’t bode well for processing time. Gritting her teeth, she sat up and finally took a look at herself, mentally fumbling for some sort of plan to deal with the imminent trial as she took stock of her current state. On the plus side; she was fully clothed again, though it wasn’t the clothes she’d worn to Simon’s. And no flashlight (or shiv) in any pockets. But hey: she had a jacket, and even if she’d been stuck in a skirt, she also got tights, so that was better than nothing. And a nice set of shitkickers to run in. Because, undoubtedly, she would be running.

[chatonmagique]

So I know this is basically my own sick body image fucking with me because most people would be happy to hear what has been bothering me.

I think it dawned on my boyfriend that we've been together for almost 5 years already. But basically my he said to me that he sometimes wonders what it would be like to be together with someone else but then realizes that he likes being with me more and doesn't want to be with anyone else. Shortly after that he said he "I don't need to think "whoah 😍" everytime I see you. I just feel very comfortable with you and want to be close to you" Clearly he loves me so what could possibly bother me you'd think? Well I basically hear. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be with someone else, since I don't get all that excited at the sight of you, but I'd still rather be with you because I love you".

Emphasizing the idea that I'm plain but lovable even thought that wasn't even the focus of this innocent comment out of contempt. So ofcourse insane creature that I am I try to act normal and ask some questions about what that would mean going back and forth something like this:

"Well I heard that a good relationship can feel like being married for 5 years and just feeling really comfortable without that spark, I must admit though for me it's been a mixture of comfort and starting out with a mild spark of being in love. I like being both confortable with and attracted to you"

"Well ofcourse when you look all sexy with red lipstick I like that (which honestly I never wear), and when sometimes you look nice you know I say it to you. Besides ofcourse I also like your butt"

"So you mean having a nice outfit and makeup makes a big difference in percieved attractiveness then?"

"What? no.. *gets distracted*

"When I put on makeup and we're not going out even you ask what I'm doing because it isn't neccesary. Well I suppose some people wake up looking all hot and lovely"

"Noo way. Not like they do in movies. They would in reality wake up with smudged makeup on their faces"

Of course none of these answers made me feel at ease because my mind is playing tricks with me in what should be a perfectly healthy situation. Genuinely being loved and not having to look all that great just to be happy and comfortable together. What did I expect. I look all natural and simple most of the time since we don't go out much. I'm sure he doesn't despice looking at my face. Some days he even thinks I look nice. I'm well aware that should be more then enough.

[alwaystheclown]

I wrapped up that commission I was dreading. It went fine I just ended up having to redo the thing 3 times which just made me sad. There’s an ease of adjustment I’m suffering from in my arrival home. I find it so simple to flop around hapless with no ambition and just a big shroud of dread. I think art is the worst thing you can ever love. Nothing in this world is as terrible as art. It’s really one of those throw your hands up in the air useless pursuits. I’m no idiot. I don’t have an attitude it’ll all work out and change my life. The biggest nightmare is really loving it, enough to feel like ripping yourself in two at the thought of giving it up. A hobby and you’re basically safe. “I can’t even draw a stick figure,” one exclaims. The privilege. You don’t know the psychological torture of being just slightly too unskilled to do any sort of professional illustration. To know any published comic work will mean quite literally nothing, a drop in a bucket. It makes me sick. I’ve considered teaching at a higher level as an alternative to any loftier dreams but I can’t handle throwing out what I’ve thought about for so long.

My brothers and I don’t talk to intensely about anything, and like I’ve said before, I’ve chipped away at most of my surface level friendships with an acute lack of maintenance. My many parental debacles, literal or invented prevent any serious conversation on that end. I think my life motto if asked would be, “Wherever you go, there you are.” It’s a line that wonderfully misses any pomp and circumstance of the other sayings people stick to. My motto takes a while to drive home, maybe a lifetime. I am half a spectre in my own life. I don’t cast any real presence.

For the past two days I’ve been crammed in the back seat of my mother’s truck on the way to NC for the week. My lips have been so cracked that they’ve been covered in blood everywhere I’ve gone, eyes encrusted with a black and orange smudge. I only started to wear makeup at my militant level recently. While I was in Ireland I really wanted to catch people interested in me. I figured the only way to do that was a nice, yet sort of low effort appearing, look with makeup. God, there’s this desperation I have to be pretty. I really don’t think I am. I’ll say it out loud, I’m not ashamed of it. When a sense of self-hatred runs so deep, it’s no difference. No flattery or polite comments could have me believe I deserve a slice of this earth to be on. I could pick it all apart, from my shoddy-shaped sort of mouth, all other putrid aspects of me. I don’t ask for compliments because I know it’ll help me. Honestly, I don’t care. I’ve been getting a lot of recommendations on Instagram lately of the type of girl I’d die to look like or marry. One who’s misery I’d like to experience, because I imagine it to be an easier pill to swallow. I think I might delete the app for as long as I can. These girls have slowly become the only thing that inhabits my for you page. I can’t look at their faces. It’ll be for the best to provide some distance for myself.

I’ve gotten myself in such deep trouble. I can’t survive any longer because I’ve got no realistic capacity to relax. Alcohol is the only thing that saves me from my prevailing misery. Other routes ruminate on what’s got me so rotten. It’s a clenched fist with every breath. I desire a certain level of bodily harm that isn’t sustainable. I’ve got a head completely rotted. Self preservation is barely a concept I can understand. My thoughts are too disgusting. As I move along I realize it more and more. The music I listen doesn’t even bring me my long standing relief. What to do off the wagon? When I’m in a particularly bad mood I just can’t stomach any music. I’ve been listening to a certain song on a loop while trying to dabble with some other rustic folk music options. Anything a bit happier. Tomorrow is another day. And so is the next, and whatever remains after that. Really, there’s no meaning that can be gathered from the stretch before us. I’ll keep the rest to myself for the most part. It’ll all clear up after break, although the need for a public forum drives home how embarrassing I can be.

As a kid, we’d have these big rain storms where I lived. It just poured down in heaps and heaps. My brothers and I would rustle for some Tupperware to be able to stick near the bushes where this pit followed along the border of our backyard down to the gutter. The whole thing worked like a river. We’d run along, watching our plastic boxes slide between leaves and thick, hard roots till it got all the way around to the mailbox. We’d scoop them us as to not let them hover over the gutter for too long. It’s some of my nicest memories in the rain. In the other places I’ve lived, the rain is a whole lot colder than anything I’m used to. The hot and fat rain of my childhood is a rarity.

I’m in a constant debate if I’m in love with the attention of a personal crisis, so I agitate myself accordingly. Nothing I think is real, the distress is all entertainment, etc, etc. I’ll shut up now, save the real things for the written word.

(All method acting and so not real. This is a funny joke huh, a sense of humor I have! )

[sminiac]

⋆ Kim Jongseob + Reader

💌 — Guess who still hasn’t slept, and who is also thinking about how sweet Bf!Jongseob would be because I am SICK. ILL. from the lack of Jseob content.

Bf!Jongseob who never fails to capture the most precious moments with his camera: where you had your first kiss, first date, first sleepover, first meal together, everything. He’d make a scrapbook for said photos, even sneaking in receipts from the places you two have visited, he’d write the cutest little notes beside the tangible memories that made it all the more visceral for him, and he’d only address them to himself so he wouldn’t hold back on his thoughts about how cute you are, how nice you smelled that day, how pretty your outfit was, if he noticed other guys looking at you, a funny joke you told, ugh he’s so🫠 he’d tell you that the added depth to the seemingly uninteresting pictures was what made it worthy of owning a spot in the book, and although you can’t quite seem to grasp the emotional connection he has to a picture of Soul captured jumping mid air, you agree anyways.

Bf!Jongseob who is absolutely the type to have you posted on every social media account he owns, and it’s not just one or two you make an appearance in, no. It’s pretty much every post, profile picture, anything, because he’s also so mygirlfriendmygirlfriend!! Since we’re on the topic of social media let me just say he’d always come in clutch for your birthday, like he’s pulling out the cutest most flattering pictures to ever exist of you:,) the sweetest paragraph written too. He’s so adorable my chest is going to collapse.

Bf!Jongseob who often looks to you if he’s worried his stage makeup is smudged or if his hair is out of place, he’d be so still while asking you to fix something, his hands steady at your hips, letting you do your thing, he’d also keep your brain busy with his opinions about their setlist, or a place he wants to check out before the two of you return to the hotel for the night, or a snack he’s seen that recently became popular online that he’s been wanting to try, his hand placement is just so boyfriend😞 he’s so boyfriend, speaks so calmly to you despite you trying to work with him as quick as possible so that he can return to the stage, although most of the time it’s just an excuse to see you, to get a quick kiss and to hear the comforting sound of your voice 🫠🫠

Bf!Jongseob who never forgets your good luck handshake before he’s being sent out to perform, “But just one more,” he’d rush, trying to steal another kiss before you have the chance to refuse, which is exactly why you didn’t want to have a kiss seal off the pre-show ritual, because it’s never just ‘one more’ which results in him being unprepared and rushing off at the last second. “Seob anymore and I’ll mess up your face.” “Good. Just one. Please! And I’ll go.” “This is your job??? you have to go anyway.”

Bf!Jongseob who often has you sat comfortably between his legs, back against his chest as he plays whatever video game he’s been fixated on recently, sooooo boyfriend I’m telling you!!!! If you aren’t familiar with the game he’s offering to show you the basics, if you end up getting frustrated he’ll laugh, of course, but he’ll always kiss the side of your head as his hands slip over yours to guide you through the process, “Yeah, like that, see you’re getting it, don’t be so hard on yourself, dummy.”

Bf!Jongseob who personally had a photocard of you made just so he can hang the small picture of you off of his bag beside his own!

Bf!Jongseob who swears you’ve had him retell every detail possible about ‘Harry Potter’ more than enough times, yet whenever he’s in another country you’re always: “Seob, what happens next?” over the phone and he can’t stand how cutely you ask, so his sworn resolve to not staying up all night diving deep into canon events quickly crumbles like compact sand hitting water, it slips through his fingers as if it never existed, but Jiung’s starting to get a little tired of it, especially being Seob’s roommate for this stop.

RRRRRRR bf!Jseob bf!Jseob bf!Jseob thank yew🙏❕❕❕

[tteokdoroki]

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s):  this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere​ ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

[writeforfandoms]

A True Nature Child

So I did a thing. Here! Have some Halloween modern Pero.

This is part of the Born to be Wild 'verse. Probably will not make sense without having read that first.

Series masterlist

Pero Tovar x f!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: some swearing. Tovar being a brat. General aggravation. A certain someone eats candy almost until he's sick.

The gif has nothing to do with the story, it just made me laugh.

You didn't even think of modern holidays and celebrating with Pero until October (and Halloween) rolled around. Actually, it didn't occur to you until you were pulling out your crocheted pumpkins to put on the table and buying a half dozen little pumpkins. Three for decoration, two for baking, one for carving.

"What is all this?" Pero asked as you brought the pumpkins in.

"For Halloween," you told him. Honestly you were only half paying attention - you were busy thinking what else you needed to do.

"For what?"

You blinked and looked over at him. Right. He hadn't celebrated Halloween before. "It's a holiday. Basically, it's an excuse for people to eat candy and do things that scare them. Like watch horror movies and go through haunted houses. Stuff like that."

Pero looked deeply sceptical. "And you people find this fun?"

"Yeah, lots of people do. For some people, this is their favorite time of year."

Pero grunted, sounding unimpressed. But surprise. You rolled your eyes and set the two baking pumpkins aside for now. You'd have time to bake them this weekend. Candy could be acquired next time you went to the store. Movies were available on various streaming services.

You were pretty well set.

Of course, that was only until you brought home a large bag of mixed candy for trick-or-treaters. There were some kids in your building, and you wanted to be sure you were prepared for them. You set the bag on the counter, intending to put it away later.

And then you completely forgot about it.

You didn't even think about the candy until mid-way through work the next day. Pero couldn't be trusted with a phone, so you couldn't ask him to put it away for you.

Oh well. It would be fine until you got home.

You stopped inside the door and stared at the living room, horrified at the blatant carnage. Empty wrappers lay strewn around the couch, some still smudged with chocolate. A few straggling survivors lay on the table, their shine dulled by chocolatey finger smudges.

And in the center of this destruction lay Pero, one arm thrown over his eyes, his other hand resting stop his belly. He groaned feebly as you let the door swing shut behind you.

"What the hell happened?" you demanded, despite having visual evidence of what had happened.

Pero just groaned and muttered something pitiful sounding in Spanish.

"Did you eat all of it?" you asked, your horror mounting.

"Si." Pero lifted his arm just enough to peer at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood.

You took a deep breath. And then another. "Murder is illegal," you reminded yourself. "And I don't have the patience to clean up after a murder. Okay. Fine." You lowered your gaze to Pero again, who was attempting to make himself look even more pathetic. "Oh stop that, it's your own fault for eating all of that candy at once."

"How would I know?" Pero asked with a pout. An actual pout. You were briefly distracted by those lips but swiftly refocused yourself.

"We need to replace that now," you said, frowning at him. "This time you're coming with me."

"We are going to the store?" He roused surprisingly quickly for that, though he did look a bit green around the gills after he sat up.

"Yes we are, but we're getting one bag of candy. That's it. No extra goodies."

Pero groaned as he stood, and you were fairly certain he was just being dramatic. Okay, maybe a little sick, but mostly dramatic.

You grabbed your keys and a reusable bag, waiting for Pero to leave before you locked up.

"Why must I go if you are only getting one item?" Pero grumbled, but without his normal vigor.

“Punishment for eating the whole bag of candy,” you grumbled right back. “Come on. Let’s hope lines aren’t long.”

The walk to the store was quiet. Pero wasn’t exactly shuffling his feet and pouting at you… but he was close. He clearly felt just a little bit guilty, given the lack of real complaining about the errand, but not guilty enough to admit that he’d done something wrong. (Then again, you’d never actually heard him admit that he’d ever done anything wrong in his life.)

The store was decently crowded, but not too bad. Pero stuck close to you, scowling at anybody who got too close, here meaning within a few feet. You’d given up trying to make him stop - he’d picked up the habit at the faire and seemed hellbent on keeping it. You had learned to pick your battles early on.

You grabbed a replacement bag of candy. Still early enough that the store had plenty. Good. You paused, looked at the bag, looked at Pero, then sighed and grabbed a second bag. Just in case.

“These are not for eating,” you told him sternly as you strode towards the self-checkout lane.

Pero muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t get caught” but you chose to not react. The middle of the store wasn’t the best place for that discussion anyway.

“What is this?” Pero had picked up a bottle, clearly having seen the apples on the label.

“Apple cider.”

“Is it good?”

Oh he’d never had apple cider. Well. So much for your one item only rule.

“It’s very good, especially warmed up with some cinnamon? Delicious.” You nodded that he could keep the bottle. “Come on, I want to get back home.”

Pero pouted but followed you, handing over the apple cider when you got to the checkout. You made him carry it back to the apartment.

This time, you stashed the candy away in two different places. One bag went on the very top shelf (you had to clamber up onto the counter to reach), and the other went back behind your cookware. Unconventional, yes, but hopefully it would work.

It took a few days for you to make the apple cider for Pero. He watched curiously as you poured some into a pot, then added a couple cinnamon sticks.

“Now we leave it to warm up for a bit,” you told him, pushing him out of the kitchen. He indulged you. “And we turn on a movie in the meantime.”

Pero heaved a sigh. He pretended to dislike the TV. Pretended. You knew he liked it though - he got very involved. “Fine,” he grumbled, sprawling across the couch. He still took up way too much room, but you made it work. You shoved one of his arms out of the way and plopped yourself in front of him, getting comfortable. He shifted, curling around you, warm and solid and broad against your back.

“I’m introducing you to horror movies,” you told him, well aware that wouldn’t mean anything yet. “Same principles apply here. This is all fake, nobody is actually getting hurt, everything is fine. But these are a lot bloodier than the stuff we normally watch.”

He grunted acknowledgement, his arms settling low across your belly. You swatted one wandering hand, and the hand retreated to safer territory. For now. You always had to be on guard for wandering hands (either to discourage or encourage).

As it turned out, you really needn't have worried. Pero loved the movie. Well, he loved telling the protagonists all the things they were doing wrong, which was good enough.

You got up (after shoving his arms off of you - you swear he turned into an octopus during movies) and brought back two cups of cider, steaming and delicious-smelling.

"It's hot," you warned him, settling back in his lap carefully. You watched as he took a sip, made a surprised but pleased noise, and drank more. Laughing quietly, you settled against him, your own cup warming your hands.

"This is good," he murmured, breath cider-hot against your cheek.

"It is," you agreed. "A favorite of the season."

Pero hummed, low and rumbling, and used his free hand to one again secure you against his chest. Possessive man. You huffed in amusement.

At least until he tried to steal your cider. Then you just swore and swatted at him.

Two weeks 'til Halloween. You went to check on the candy. The bag behind the cookware was untouched, but the other bag was open and half-empty. Grumbling, you took it out and climbed on top of a different counter to shove the candy in the practically-unused cabinet above the fridge. Pero was out of the house, so you hadn't given your new hiding place away.

Two days later, you heard a crash from the kitchen while you were in the shower. You poked your head out of the shower, wary.

"Pero?"

"Is fine!" He yelled back. There was a clatter of something metal being dropped on the floor and a curse.

You sighed. "Get out of that cabinet," you yelled before getting back in the shower. You did not have the patience for this right now.

Whatever had happened, so long as the building wasn't on fire it would wait until you were done with your shower.

You emerged, hair still damp, to find the cupboard only half-closed, and a candy wrapper on the floor. You sighed loudly.

"Pero!"

There was muffled cursing from the living room. You sighed again, even louder.

"I'm gonna murder him," you muttered to yourself. "Or make him do all the dishes for a month." Pero hated doing the dishes with a passion that surprised you.

A very sheepish pair of brown eyes looked at you over the back of the couch, and you scowled in response. You grabbed the rest of the bag of candy, which was abandoned in the front of the cupboard, and left it on the counter for now.

"I didn't eat all of it," Pero defended.

"I told you not to touch it," you grumbled, correcting the placement of the pots and pans.

Pero huddled further down on the couch until you could only see his unruly hair. You sighed and cleaned up, muttering to yourself.

And then you yelped as two strong arms wrapped around you, a nose nuzzling into the back of your neck. Lips followed.

"Are you upset with me?" He purred against your neck. Teeth nipped gently at your skin.

"Yes," you grumbled, pouting.

"I could fix that." He nipped at the soft spot behind your ear.

"You could leave the candy alone like I asked."

He huffed, warm breath raising goosebumps along your neck. "I could make it up to you." His lips brushed against your cheek. One hand snuck under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying across your stomach.

Somehow, you forgave him.

You managed to keep the rest of the candy safe until Halloween night. Then you set a bowl near the door, gave Pero very firm instructions, and set up for a night of horror movies and trick-or-treaters.

You missed the first twenty minutes of the movie to trick-or-treaters, not that you minded. Pero did, judging from the grumbling, but he wasn’t quite annoyed enough to get up and drag you back to the couch, not knowing that you’d object. Strenuously.

Finally, you sat, and Pero’s arms immediately wound around your middle, hugging you close to him. You would have been more annoyed but honestly? It was adorable.

Except when you had to get up. Then it was annoying. He refused to let go, even when you asked nicely. You even threatened him a couple times, to no effect. You resorted to wiggling out of his arms in a series of increasingly-complicated maneuvers.

Finally, you went more than half an hour without a knock on the door, and you flipped the light over the door off. End of candy time.

“You are finished?” Pero asked, sitting up in interest.

“Yeah, no more trick-or-treaters,” you agreed, stretching your arms up over your head. “I don’t have work tomorrow, so I can stay up and watch another movie with you, if you want.”

“Or we could do something more fun.” Pero advanced on you, backing you up until you bumped into the door. One hand settled on your waist, and he smirked as he leaned in close.

And stole a piece of candy and sauntered back to plop himself on the couch. Your eyes narrowed.

“That was a poor choice,” you told him, and vaulted the couch to take your revenge, one way or another.

--

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[meowniee]

Lee Taeyong - One Shot

Pairing: Female Reader (photographer) x Lee Taeyong (idol)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2k

Warnings: oral (f/m) | fingering (f) | penetration | protected sex | squirt | manhandling | finger sucking

Synopsis: Who would have thought that doing a photo shoot with NCT would lead you to stay after your working hours in a room alone with Taeyong...

You were already asleep when you got a call from your boss. One of the photographers who would be working tomorrow had gotten sick and he needed you to go to work in her place. You had been hired a few months ago, but you hadn't worked on any major projects yet, even though your experience in the field is impeccable. He asked you to arrive early tomorrow at the film set and your colleague would explain all the work. You were so excited, it would be your first opportunity to show your talent, whatever job it was.

You could barely sleep and ended up waking up earlier than you needed to. You chose a comfortable outfit, pants and shirt, ate your favorite breakfast, did some very basic makeup, highlighting your cute lips, and went out to the photo set. The day was beautiful with a very blue sky and a shining sun. It was almost 10 am when you arrived at the luxurious hotel where the photos would be. At the entrance, your colleague was waiting for you with an iced coffee in each hand. You greeted each other quickly, thanking her for the coffee, and headed into the hotel, picking up your credentials at the lobby. On the way to the main hall, she explained to you that they would have a big crew today because they were going to photograph a famous K-pop group, NCT127. Each photographer would be responsible for one of them during the individual photos, and the photos would be taken in a hotel room according to the aesthetic that each one wanted. She told you that you would be responsible for Taeyong, the leader of the group. You were shocked. You were just replacing the sick photographer and were you responsible for none other than the GROUP LEADER? “Don't worry, he's an experienced idol. He'll help you with whatever you need. He's also a sweetheart, rest assured”, she said, patting your arm. You sighed in relief. You need to do your best today to take your best pictures. You knew Taeyong and how perfect he was in the photos. His features were sharp and his gaze was deep, the best set for a good model.

It didn't take long for all the photographers and directors to arrive, preparing their cameras, lights and scenery, reviewing the positions and space around them. The beats of their music echoed faintly through the hall. You heard rumbles coming from the entrance to the hall and turned to see what was going on. The boys had arrived along with their security guards and managers. They were mostly in sweats and comfortable clothes, clearly without the luxurious outfits prepared for the photos. Some messy hair, sleepy eyes and yawns accompanied their expression, but that didn't stop you from noticing how beautiful they were. Extremely beautiful. They were talking to each other, sipping their coffee, laughing and settling down next to the staff members. The blonde one, Taeyong, stood in front of them, ceasing their conversation. They greeted all of the staff, bowing and smiling. The director took the lead and made the general introductions. "We will have a team responsible for each member to optimize the work today. Please direct each member to their workstation to begin preparations". He called one name at a time, redirecting the boys to their teams. The makeup artists and hairdressers started to work, preparing their looks according to the references they had received. You stood a little away from him, a little embarrassed, holding your camera. You didn't want to take pictures of him without makeup, respecting his personal space, so you waited until the stylists had finished. He was perfect now, with his hair straight and his makeup done. Soft pink lips emphasized the shape. He was fiddling with his cell phone, waiting for the moment to go change. You approached slowly. “Hi Mr. Lee… I’m Y/n. I am your photographer today”, you introduced yourself, bending a little and unable to look at him. “Hey! Nice to meet you.”. You raised your eyes a little to see him. He was smiling and waving his hand. “I didn't know you. Are you new here?”, he asked. “Yes… Hm… I'm replacing a colleague who couldn't come”, you answered, squeezing your camera in your hands. “If you have any questions or need help, just ask me, okay?”, he smiled and got up to go dress up. You breathed a sigh of relief. You were very nervous and hadn't even realized you weren't breathing properly. He seemed very kind and that made you more relieved.

The group photos were quick. The boys were very professional, they knew exactly what to do, where to look and how to position their bodies. They were very comfortable with the production, playing games with each other but not disturbing each other's work. Everyone's attention was focused on them, always going to fix some hair that was out of place, or some slightly smudged makeup. Words of encouragement from the photographers only made them more excited. You were always watching Taeyong. You needed to learn how he looked at the camera, what angles he preferred and how he liked to pose for pictures. He was the one who looked most comfortable among them all. He wore burgundy pants and a shiny leather jacket, no shirt. Sometimes your eyes locked, making your whole body heat up, and eventually you would shyly look away.

Everyone had lunch at the hotel restaurant and then went to the individual sets. All lights and equipment were mounted. The rooms weren't very big, but the staff was downsized now so you wouldn't have a problem with that. The room had a bed by the window, a sofa across the room, and a rug with wave patterns. The pale colors contrasted with Taeyong's clothes.

Individual photos took longer. Taeyong always stopped to look at the result in the notebook, giving suggestions for light, for angles, praising your photos. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, laughing at the jokes and daring to get closer. “It's almost 7 PM, we should start wrapping up”, you said. He looked at you. “I really want to try some other poses and angles. Y/n, can you stay up a little later?” he asked and you nodded quickly. It was your most important job so far and you would make the most of it. “We won't need the production. You all can go. These photos will be for my personal project. Thank you so much for your hard work today”. He said, turning to the rest of the staff. They thanked and bowed, starting to pack their things and leave the room. You were very happy that he asked you to take more photos for his personal project. So he liked your work, right? You were enjoying working with him too. The conversation and exchange of ideas flowed easily. You quickly understood what he wanted and could reproduce it with your clicks. You had good chemistry together. “I'm going to go down and get my stuff from downstairs and from there we can start, ok?”, you said, opening the door and heading for the elevator. You were very excited... and a little nervous about being alone in a room with him. Quickly grabbing your extra lights and lenses, you went back to the hotel room, thinking of all the angles that could be made there. You knocked on the door before entering. Taeyong had his notebook open, sitting on the couch. The room was cozier now that all the lights were out and there wasn't a lot of equipment in the corners. “I ordered drinks and some snacks for us. We can relax a little while I explain to you what I thought for these photos.”, he said as you put your things down by the couch, sitting on the bed in front of him. “Oh thank you! So… Tell me a little about your project, please”, you asked him. His eyes were shining as he told you about his new album that he produced himself. He was thinking about taking photos to promote digitally. A sexier concept as his songs were very intimate. You really liked everything. He had a very artistic mind and he spoke in a very emotional way.

The snacks arrived and you thanked them, you were starving. At some point you sat next to him on the couch while he showed you pictures he liked, so you could follow the concept. You both finished eating and you got up, “How do you want to start? Maybe on the couch?”, he nodded, crossing his legs and leaning on the sofa, his tiger look appearing again. His duality was incredible. Super cute and adorable off camera, but extremely irresistible on them. His poses were great and you always praised him between them, cheering him on. He lay on his back on the couch, letting his arm fall over the edge, looking directly at you through the camera lens. This was the best photo of the night, for sure. He sat, legs closed, back laying on the couch. If you were your camera right now, you would be melted by his gaze. “Can you take one up close?”, he asked. You positioned yourself very close to his legs, leaning forward to get as close as possible, trying to balance. “You can put your legs around mine. That’s okay”. You did as he said, timidly opening your legs and getting closer to him, his legs between yours. He lay a little more on the couch, flirting with the lenses. Or with you? You didn't know anymore at that point. You tried to get a little closer, but you lost your balance, falling forward. He quickly put his hands around your waist, holding you, making you sit in his lap. “Are you ok?”, he asked. You were so embarrassed, your cheeks were burning. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Thank you”, you whispered. You didn't try to get up and he didn't move either. His hands still gripping your waist, holding you in place. “Maybe a photo this close will be good”, he murmured, lightly squeezing his hands on you. You quickly raised the camera. You thanked you for not having to look him in the eye, but being able to see him through the lens was a really amazing view. You clicked several times, trying to capture the most of the moment. You tightened your thighs around him, getting closer. His hands gently moved down your legs as his gaze traveled over your entire body. He bit his lower lip when you whispered a compliment, letting his head fall back, panting softly. He was enjoying the whole moment, just like you. You took his chin between your fingers and pushed it up, making him face the camera. Your thumb lightly scraping the bitten lip as he opened it slightly. Lowering the camera, you glared into his eyes, pushing your finger slowly between his lips, testing the waters. You let a low moan escape as he ran his tongue over your finger, circling slowly and then closing his lips around it.

Taeyong was so sexy already totally drunk with pleasure underneath you, with labored breathing and huge pupils dilated by arousal. You could almost feel him melt under your touch, giving himself completely. Was this really happening? Or did you hit your head in the elevator and this is all just your mind's creation? The questioning passed quickly when you felt a sharp bite on your finger, pulling you back to reality. Yes, he was there, deliciously sucking your finger like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever had. Putting the camera to one side entirely, you looked deep into his eyes, lifting your head with a defiant look as your fingers tightened inside his mouth, forcing him to open it. He took a deep breath before suddenly grabbing you around the waist and pulling you close to his chest, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto his chest completely, bracing both your hands on the couch behind him. You felt him pushing his hips up against yours just before your lips met. His lips were colder than yours, giving you goosebumps. Quickly devouring each other, the kiss became extremely hot as your tongues twisted against each other, tasting the sweet needy taste. You slipped your hand from his chest, past his neck, into his blonde hair, tangling your fingers in, pressing your mouths even closer, deepening the kiss. A purr resonated through his chest, leaving you extremely excited. He was so responsive to your actions, melting at any gesture, especially when you showed dominance over him.

You let your head fall back, leaving your neck free, guiding Taeyong to kiss you there. Despite the strength of your hand in his hair, he took his time kissing your jaw until he reached the base of your neck, biting and licking near your collarbone. His hands moved up from your hips, working their way under your shirt, reaching the base of your breasts. His hands weren't big, but they hugged your ribs as best they could. Running his hands down your back until he reached your shoulders, he pressed you down, against your prominent volume growing inside his pants, kissing the valley between your breasts through your shirt. You can do nothing but sigh. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, letting Taeyong sink between your breasts, kissing them through the lace of your bra as his deft hands opened it from behind. He pulled back for a moment as he slipped the straps over your shoulder, letting the bra fall between you, quickly tossing it to the side. Admiring your bare breasts, he cupped them both in his hands, massaging them gently, playing with your nipples between his fingers, lightly squeezing, earning a moan from you. Looking deep into your eyes, he brought his pink lips near to your nipple, pressing the tip of his tongue around it before capturing it with his mouth. The other one was being pinched and twirled between his fingers. You could feel your arousal making you wet, pooling in the fabric of your panties. You pressed your hips against his, trying to feel him hard against your clothed core.

You were startled when he quickly flipped you over with your back to the couch, sitting you down and pulling your hips closer to the edge. He found the waistband of your pants and pulled it with his fingers along with your panties, leaving you totally naked. His eyes ran all over your body, burning through every part they passed. Spreading your legs, he positioned in the middle as he sought your lips for another hot kiss. He was still fully dressed and it made you a little embarrassed to be undressed. You took advantage of the fact that he was close and started to open the buttons on his leather coat as he sucked your tongue and left bites on your lips. He helped you finish taking off his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room. He took a moment for you to look at him between your legs, standing up, and appreciate his gorgeous torso, now exposed since he wasn't wearing any shirt. He knelt gracefully between your legs, still looking into your eyes, and placed his hands on the inner part of your thigh, forcing you to spread your legs even further so that he could fit his broad shoulders between them. He brought his lips too close to your wet folds, but he didn't touch, just laid there, breathing hot, making you feel how close he was from your core. You grabbed his hair and forced his head against you, which he gladly accepted, flattening his tongue on your cunt. It didn't take long before he was devouring you hungrily, licking up all of your liquid, sucking on your clit and twisting his tongue around it. It felt great and you moaned his name under your breath, trying not to yell at all the neighbors to hear. You felt your orgasm approaching and began to roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You couldn't help when your back arched and the wave of heat spilled over your whole body. He didn't stop sucking on your clit, prolonging the sensation of pleasure as your body writhed with each movement. When the sensation started to get painful from overstimulation, he slipped two fingers inside your wet interior, starting to move them curved, reaching the most sensitive point. You were about to ask him to stop when you felt another orgasm coming. His fingers worked fast in and out of your pussy, rubbing your g-spot with precision, while his mouth kissed your super sensitive clit. You felt an incredible pressure taking hold of your uterus, as if your bladder were suddenly too full. You tried to close your legs, but he held you tight, looking you in the eyes, daring you to stay there. You were hit by a high-speed train when your second orgasm came too quickly compared to the previous one. “Fuck…”, you yelled as you heard the louder and wet noises spreading through the room as Taeyong guided you through your moment of ecstasy. When you managed to open your eyes, he was looking at you with a proud smile on his lips. “God…that was really hot…”, he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one until there was no juices left. You looked at your legs and saw that they were much wetter than usual. It's been a long time since you last had a squirt. And you were sure this wasn't the first time he's done this with a woman.

You saw his other hand rubbing the volume down his pants. He made you feel so good and now you wanted to return the favor. “Get up”, you asked, signaling with your finger. He immediately got up. Small dark stains covered the front of his burgundy pants, hit by your juices. Both of his hands were clasped behind his back, puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, waiting for you. You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it slowly as you teased him with your gaze. You slid the zipper down at a slow pace, anticipating your touch on his cock. He was wearing black boxers, which fit perfectly against his body, showing the design of his hard member constrained by the fabric. You dropped his pants on his feet. Taking a firm grip on his ass and squeezing, you brought your lips close to his still-covered volume, sliding your lips over his length. You earned a sigh of appreciation. He didn't tease you, so you wouldn't tease him either. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, freeing his hard cock. He was wet with pre-cum, glistening in the bedroom light, inviting your mouth to suck it. You took it in your hand, being careful not to put too much pressure, and brought the tip to your lips, giving light kisses around it as you looked at him. His eyes sparkling with anticipation when you stuck your tongue out, gently circling, collecting the pre-cum to taste it. He was so sweet you almost couldn't believe it. You put his whole head in your mouth and increased the pressure on your hand, making him moan louder than before. Sliding down to the end of its length and back, feeling it hit the back of your throat, you started to suck it, your other hand mimicking your movements, but to the opposite side. When your head twisted to the right as you swallowed his length, your hand met twisting to the left. He was moaning hard from pleasure, making you feel proud of your perfect blowjob. You were determined to make him come in your mouth, so you took his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them back and forth as you deepthroated his entire length. You were about to go back when you felt his hand pressing your head further, keeping his cock in your hot throat. You couldn't fight the gag reflex, but he pulled back your head, freeing your throat so you could breathe.

Your lips were all wet with saliva, as was his dick. He pulled your head, making you look at him. "Please… I don't want to come yet…", he begged between sighs. You stood up, hugging his defined waist, quickly spinning him around, causing him to lose his balance and land on the couch. You sat on his lap, positioning your needy pussy on top of his hard cock. Resting your hands on his chest, you started grinding his entire length with your wet folds. He took hold of your hips and helped guide the movement, rolling his eyes back at the wonderful feeling it was like to have you slide past him. “Do you have a condom?”, you asked. He was a little bewildered with pleasure and looked a little startled by the question. “Y-yes…”, he replied, quickly reaching into his wallet and pulling one out. You barely waited for him to finish putting on as you positioned yourself with your entrance to the head of his cock, taking advantage that he was holding it up.

You slid painfully slowly across his length, watching his gaze fixed on where he disappeared inside you. You both moaned low as you reached the end, waiting until your tight walls got used to his size. He cupped both of your breasts, taking one of them in his mouth and kissing it as if it were your lips. You started to roll your hips with his dick deep inside you. “Fuck…”, you both whispered. You couldn't keep it that way for long, so you got up until it almost came out of you, and sank down again. You kept the rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure inside you. Your brain still didn't seem to process the fact that you were fucking none other than Taeyong. He was really perfect, like he came out of an anime. And he was enjoying being there with you… it made you even more turned out. He started to move his hips too, slamming against you harder, pushing even deeper. You couldn't hold back a shriek of pleasure as it hit so deep you could have sworn you'd feel pain there tomorrow. He kept it deep and strong, the thrusts getting more and more sloppy while the two of you were a moaning mess. Both bodies tense feeling the orgasm approaching, labored breathing filling the room with gasps of air. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him away from your sensitive nipple, you captured his lips with yours, still tasting your own juice on his tongue. You could feel your walls tightening and his cock throbbing. You stopped bouncing on him, just focusing on kissing his mouth, but he held your hips in the air, giving him room to move under you, pushing his cock deeper and faster with harder and harder. You dropped your head at the base of his neck, moaning not so low his name as he nibbled and sucked on your neck, increasing your pleasure even further. “Fuck, Taeyong… I’m so close… Please, don’t stop”, you begged this time, holding tight his body against yours. Your words made him fuck you even faster, moaning in a low tone countless curses in your ear. Your orgasm erupted as he licked and bit your earlobe, giving you shivers all over your body, followed by the tingling sensation. Your walls squeezed his cock hard inside you, sucking him in with your pussy. He couldn’t hold it any longer and he's bursted all of his cum into the condom, deep inside you. He didn't stop moving in and out until you were both almost starting to feel pain from overstimulation.

You lay there cuddled together as your bodies rested, restoring your breathing rhythm and heartbeat. This all still didn't feel real. You just had the best sex of your life with… him. You were awakened from your thoughts by his voice in your ear. “Can we take a shower together?”, he asked, his voice so soft he didn't sound like the same person from a few minutes ago. “Only if you wash my hair for me…”, you joked. “Okay, I can do that”, he smiled. He helped you to your feet and went to the bathroom and started getting ready for the shower. “I'll order us something to eat if you don't mind. I'm hungry and I believe you are too”. You nodded as you wrapped yourself in the robe that was in the bedroom. He was being so adorable and caring. In fact, you wouldn't expect him to just send you away after having melted under your touch so easily. He was a gentleman and he was making you feel special right now.

The shower was fun and he let you do various hairstyles with the shampoo bubbles in his hair. Also the timing was perfect. As soon as you guys got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your hotel robes, the food he ordered arrived in your room. Both of you ate while he told stories about behind the scenes in the clips and funny situations with other members of the group. He was so easy to talk to and give you pleasure that you could easily fall in love...

[cinnamonest]

But yes I have thoughts about Albedo having a sort of mommy complex... Different from the others, though, not quite an Oedipal thing, but more of a hyper-attachment to a very maternal, affectionate darling. See, he never had a motherly figure. Like yes he had Rhinedottir but... She's described as cold and calloused... it even says in his story "He had always believed wholeheartedly that his teacher would make good on her threat to leave him, should he fail." So basically he was brought up to be afraid of failure most likely, and threatened with abandonment. He's never had a figure that was very motherly in the traditional sense. Like, super sweet, doting, coddling and nurturing, forgiving. So when a darling like that comes along... Soft and sweet girl... Ray of sunshine... He gets attached like glue. He knew Rhinedottir would leave him if he didn't meet expectations... So he's a perfectionist. Has always been very afraid of failure. He can't mess anything up. So it's very very rare that he does. Unfortunately, one of those extremely rare cases happens to be... All over darling. He was distracted by darlings choice of particularly tight clothing that day, accidentally put two wrong things together and whoops... Something of a chemical explosion. Gets all over your clothes, staining them. He's unusually apologetic, it's rare to hear his voice actually non-monotone, actually has a slight panic to it. You're an employee, after all, you can leave at any time, and you certainly will now... But... You... Smile...? Laugh a bit. It's ok. Don't worry about it. Which feels... So foreign. You're not mad? Not disappointed? You're not threatening to quit or leave him behind? Even though he messed up? It's a very new experience. It makes him feel strange. You tell him to be more careful, but before he can apologize, you add, you could have gotten hurt! And that line throws him off. Be more careful... for his own sake? Not yours? He's still silent when you walk off to change, but stands there in a confused daze, staring off into space, unable to understand. And then, you... Care about him? He falls asleep at his desk, slumped over. When he wakes up, there's a blanket over his shoulders, all the papers he was working on have been pushed to the side and stacked in a neat pile so he didn't smudge the ink or drool on them or anything. So strange, he doesn't remember doing that... Unless you did it? It's just the two of you in here, so that means you had to do it. But... Why? Then, a few weeks later, he gets sick. Not that it means anything, his master always taught him that sickness and injury isn't an excuse to stop working, so he's still working on his things as he's sniffling and coughing. And you fret over it. Get in that... Oddly... Maternal sort of fussing, tell him no, no, go lay down, you poor thing. You more or less force him to rest, not only that, but you bring him food for the rest of the day. Tell him not to worry, you'll take care of everything, you'll clean up the work station and get everything resolved for the day. He thinks through it logically and decides you must be worried he'll get other people sick, right? That's why. Nothing else would explain this strange course of actions you've taken. His brain can't understand why you would do all that... just because you want to. Yet, it persists when he's injured. He's used to that too. Glass breaks pretty easily, cuts his hands and fingers, but he just bandages it up and goes back to work as he was taught he's supposed to. You won't have that though. He didn't even take care of it right! It'll get infected, you say, as you force him to sit down, undo the poorly done bandages, get everything you need. Rubbing alcohol, for the infection potential. It'll hurt, you say, here, squeeze my hand. And he does - it does sting like a bitch after all. But the pain isn't really in the forefront of his mind. He's too lost in the strangeness of it all. Isn't this technically wasting time? He could easily work through the pain. He's just silent as your soft hands wrap up his fingers, you're back to that odd fussing where you say things like poor thing and it's ok and to top it off, you pull his hand up to your mouth and kiss his fingers, to make them better faster!, you say. Very strange -- scientifically speaking, the kissing should not have any actual effect, yet somehow it actually does make him feel better... must be some chemical effect he’s unaware of...? But the strangest occurrence of all occurs when he does do well. He's used to people thinking he's smart by now, people always admire him. That alone was a startling change when he first arrived in Mondstadt, he was so used to doing things right being... expected. The bare minimum. Rhinedottir would look at what he made and often just nod in acknowledgement, it was expected, but other people think it's nice... but, he tells himself, what he does isn't really impressive. People just think it is because they've never seen alchemy at work before, that's all. It's not actually good. He always tells himself to get ahold of himself whenever he feels happy with success -- he shouldn't feel happy or proud, no, it's not good enough, he has to push himself more, do better... but you can't help but notice the smile that initially crosses his face at the success, the way his eyes light up before they go dull again as he chastises himself for allowing himself to feel too proud... you're more perceptive than he thinks, you've picked up on how he pushes himself too hard for perfection. So you try to make him feel better... you say you're proud of him. You say it's good. Not just adequate, not the bare minimum... you look actually impressed... it makes him feel proud, and for once he can't get that prideful feeling to go away. It feels like a high, a buzz, it lasts the rest of the day, he keeps remembering that you said you were proud! You said it was good! It repeats over and over in his head like a record. It actually takes a time when Alice comes back to understand it. He's happy to see her again, but as he watches her go about her interactions with her daughter, it strikes him as familiar. Poor Klee never gets hurt by her bombs, but she trips and scrapes her knee, goes crying to her mother... who does something that mirrors what you did. Tells her it's ok, tells her to squeeze her hand if it hurts, she'll take care of it... she has that same baby-talk-ish fussing tone to her voice, calls her poor thing just like you did him... when Klee falls asleep on the floor, Alice just smiles and wraps her up and puts her things away, carries her to bed... and when she accidentally blows something up (again), Alice just runs fingers through her hair and tells her it's ok, she didn't mean to do it right? Just be more careful from now on, she could have gotten hurt -- the exact same thing you told him -- but... she's still proud, her bombs are made so well! He makes the connection. So this is what maternal affection and care feels like? He starts to think it would have been nice to have that, even if he was technically never a "child" in the physical sense, it would have been a nice thing to have in the early stages of his life... Or at any time. Or now. It feels nice... foreign, strange, unfamiliar, but so so nice and warm and comforting. He feels like it's ok if he messes up, if it's you. You forgive him. You always do. And if he gets hurt or sick, you'll help... It feels so nice. It's the only real comfort he's ever known. He feels safe and secure and like he doesn't have to be perfect all the time. But he doesn't like the way that extends to others. You're nice to everyone, he soon finds out. You help everyone when they get hurt. You forgive everyone when they mess up. It makes him feel some cold, twisting feeling in his gut and chest, he finds himself slamming things, clenching his teeth when he hears you talking in that same sweet voice to other people. It's really not fair, when you think about it. He never had that, but most people do, right? Most people have a mother or a mother figure in their lives they can go to, he never had that, that's what you're supposed to be. Everyone else's mother or maternal figure is theirs, not everyone's. Why does his have to be there for everyone? Why not just him? Doesn't he deserve what everyone else gets to have? It's that line of thinking that leads him to isolate you. When he initially sets off to go set up camp in the mountains, he decides you should be the one that comes to work up there, rather than the other assistants. They can stay in Mondstadt... you're too nice to them anyway. As long as you're up here, you won't be able to be nice to anyone else, and all that sweet, maternal affection can be just for him... like it should be.

[warmblanketwhump]

sick day

A coughs roughly, bracing themselves against the aisle after another fit of hacking left them gasping for breath.

It hadn’t been that bad this morning. They’d woken with a scratchy throat, achy limbs, and a tickle in their nose, but nothing unmanageable. Besides – they needed the money. Badly. Living alone was expensive, but they didn’t know anyone else in the city, and they were barely keeping their head above the water as it was.

So they’d thrown on an extra sweater, ignored the chill deep within their bones, and headed out to work.

4 hours into a 12 hour shift, A would have welcomed the sweet embrace of death. Or any embrace at all - something to stop the shakes in their limbs or still the spinning world.

As if by divine intervention, a hand reaches out and gently clasps their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?”

B had never seen anyone that sick still standing. Pale. Forehead slick with sweat. Shaky hands. Wearing one too many layers in the stuffy, crowded air of the grocery store.

A had only been working at the store for a couple months. but B couldn’t recall a time when A wasn’t working, morning or night. And it showed - in the dark smudges under their eyes, and the way they leaned heavily against the boxes of spaghetti they’d been trying to stock. Another round of coughs sent them reeling, and B rushes to their side and grabs their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?” A jumps, startled at the touch, and B drops their hand instantly.

“I’m...I’ll be fine,” A rasps, wiping their nose with their sleeve. They cross their arms, trying to hide the shiver that hunches their shoulders and rattles their teeth.

“A, you look like death warmed over. At the very least, you’re going to decrease pasta sales by a factor of 10 because you coughed all over them.” B smiles ruefully, but it doesn’t reach their eyes.

A tries to laugh at the joke, but a wave of dizziness swirls their vision, and they weakly grab at the shelf. Instead, they feel another body catch them – B’s solid, warm body which gently steadies them in a sort of hug.

“Easy there,” says B as A gasps for air, clasping weakly at B’s waist as B rubbed their back. In a matter of minutes, A is whisked back to their boss, and after a tense conversation in hushed whispers (of which A hears nothing) they’re out on the snowy streets, in B’s warm car, headed home. “There’s no way you’re working today, bud”, B says, slowly navigating the route to A’s apartment as A protests that they’re fine, to tell their boss they’ll come back to finish their shift after a quick nap.

As they help A navigate the creaking stairs of their cold, damp apartment building, B’s heart twists - no wonder A’s so sick if they’ve been living in a place like this in a winter this harsh.

They enter A’s dark, freezing apartment, and B gently deposits them on the threadbare couch and drapes a nearby blanket around their shoulders.

“Thank you...you didn’t have to bring me–” Another round of coughs cuts A’s rasping voice short, and they tug the blanket tighter around themselves and shiver helplessly. 

B frowns and gently feels A’s forehead (burning up) and slips their hand down to A’s neck to check their lymph nodes (definitely swollen). A draft from the window sets A’s teeth chattering, and B scans the sparsely furnished apartment, searching for another blanket. Eventually, they settle for shedding their own jacket and wrapping that around A, too.

“A, it’s freezing in here. Where’s your thermostat?”

“Won’t matter - it doesn’t work most days.” They cough again, longer this time. B rushes to A’s side, placing a hesitant hand between their shoulder blades and rubbing slow, deliberate circles until A finally catches their breath. A leans back and closes their eyes, breathing heavily, a single tear tracking down their cheek. B can tell that they’re exhausted, and their heart cracks at A’s huddled form.

B chews their lip, worried. The last thing they want to do is insult A, but staying alone in this awful apartment will only make them sicker. Their mind pops to their own warm, cozy apartment, their fully stocked medicine cabinet - and to the extra room, recently vacated by their roommate who had just taken a new job in another city.

You haven’t even known them that long, warns the rational side of their brain. Why should you worry yourself over them?

But even though B doesn’t know A well, they like them - the two of them made a good team, and although A was quiet, they had a fun sense of humor and seemed to genuinely care for those around them, always helping where they could, always quick with a compliment, a kind word, or a smile for someone else. 

And B knew how terrible it was to be sick alone. Two springs ago, they’d caught a bad cold - and nothing could truly capture the miserable feeling of dragging yourself out of bed, feverish, half alive, desperately hoping that someone would stop by and check in on you. Finally, B takes a deep breath.

Just ask. If they say no, you leave. That’s it.

“Say, um...look. I don’t want to be - you know, creepy or anything,” B stutters as A turns to meet their eyes. “It’s just...well, my shift is basically over by now, and I was just going to go home after this anyways, and I know your heating’s out so if you wanted to come hang out where it’s warmer until it’s fixed or something, you can. And I’ve got medicine and stuff at my place too, and my roommate just moved out so it’s just me and it wouldn’t be any trouble. If you want.” B let it all out in a single breath, hoping that they hadn’t sounded as awkward as they felt.

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

A’s eyes well up with tears, and they inhale a shaky breath that has nothing to do with their coughing fits. They had no reason to expect such kindness from someone who barely knew them, what they’d been through, how hard they’d been fighting, how long they’d been alone without anyone who cared.

They knew what B was really asking. B knew damn well that A’s heating wasn’t coming back on any time soon. They knew B likely suspected that A had spent the last few winter nights shivering themselves to sleep, and that this embarrassing, freezing apartment was all they could afford on their own, even after all those extra shifts.

And yet B still gave them the dignity of asking.

If you want. And they did.

“I’d like that.” A says quietly, voice rough from coughing.

B smiles, relief evident in their eyes. “Good. Let’s get you ready, then.”

10 minutes later, they head back down the stairs, B holding them steady and gently rubbing A’s arms to get some warmth into their still-feverish body. And despite feeling absolutely drained, A smiles. Maybe things would be okay after all.