#soon... soon... I'm trying but not there yet

[intromortal]

✷ LIQUID SWEETENER ⸻ sim jaeyun

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care, fingering, praise, degradation (use of slut like once? and pet), he's mostly very sweet tho i promise, oral f!rec, squirting, mentions of free use, multiple orgasms, quick aftercare, jake comes untouched he's down bad sorry ! ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ oneshot ⸻ 5.2k words

✷ NIA — i finally got around to rewriting this omfg. this rewrite is for my sweet @heechwe and all the nonnies who asked for this to be posted again <3

It's not everyday Jake gets to take care of you, so when you're all sickly and weak, it's hard to evade his attentions no matter how hard you try.

Jake pouts when you shoot down yet another attempt to get you to take your medicine. "Why don't you just chug it? I promise it's not as bad as you think."

He’s been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin.

"If it's not as bad as I think, why are you suggesting I just chug it?" Your voice is slightly muffled as you eye him suspiciously from under the heavy cover pulled up all the way to your nose.

"You're the one insisting it's disgusting without even trying it, I asked for the best flavor possible when I got it." He made sure to pick out a syrup that doesn't taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he can picture it right in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again—which you wouldn't agree to take anyway.

For how much you hate being sick, you seem to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighs, resting the cap filled to the brim with honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge. He licks whatever residue is left on his sticky fingers. "Really not that bad. It's sweet."

"So it's not good either," you huff back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep. "I'm not even that sick anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jake looks at you with an arched brow, then points his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding grounds for bio terrorism allegations.”

He stops you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispers against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

His plump lips thin into that gorgeous wide smile of his as he speaks,“but you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?”

He knows very well what you mean, and a frustrated grumble spills out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wants you to say the quiet part out loud. Neither of you is used to going without pleasuring each other for long periods of time, and anything longer than three days is eons according to Jake. You're surprised he's behaved as well as he has this past week, you thought he would be the one to cave in first.

“Want…more,” you crank one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slips in it. You blink a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observes you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake has to be completely honest with himself, he's not particularly sad at you being a little sick. 

Sure, it sounds mean when he says it out loud, but you're not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoys doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl has a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work. 

You're always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoys knowing he's helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he's making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprays on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake takes notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it.

Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licks away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick doesn't help, being physically weak and needing rest doesn't stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you have nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupts your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You look up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he's about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you're pretty sure a boulder just crushed you right on your chest. You groan, turning to the other side so you can properly sulk without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you'd love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice is muffled by the pillow currently squished against your face.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me.” You grab the sides of the pillow and push them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles. 

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he whispers, and the loving tone makes your body feel light.

You suddenly push yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement. “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too misses your touch, far more than what he lets on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions. He often found himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom, trying not to wake you up because he knew if you caught him he wouldn't be able to get out of your claws.

And you really need the rest.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you add, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake is thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever get like this, and he enjoys every second of it. You can tell because he's pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. On any other occasion he would've been all over you before you could even finish your sentence. But Jake doesn't care, not when he doesn't know when the next time he gets to hear you beg a little for him is gonna be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he says. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” You glare at him with all the fake anger you can muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words die in your throat as you feet the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee.

"No, no. Keep talking." He slowly gets under the covers, and it's not because he's testing your reaction. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

You try to hide the way you gulp, eyes still fixed on his body as he gets comfortable on his side, facing you.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispers against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he sneaks an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his chest. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reach for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guide it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you grind against it.

"I suppose you've had enough rest."

You take notice of how his breath hitches in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you use his hand. The illusion wears off even more when he tries to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You know he wants it just as bad as you do, you're just willing to beg for it as long as it gets you what you want.

“I’ll—” you gasp when he flexes his fingers that tiny little bit you need to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” his voice is light and airy as he moves the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickles your neck, Jake’s mouth dipping down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whine, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

Had you not been so deprived of Jake’s touch, you would have found the way you're grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you're desperate, so you can't bring yourself to care too much about how pathetic you probably look to anyone else.

The only people in the room are you and Jake anyway, and he seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. His cock is stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you are through your shorts. Dripping already and he barely touched you.

"You're so fucking hot. You know that?" Jake nibbles the shell of your ear, making you arch further in his hold. “You'll do anything you said? How about you take your medicine then?” He moves his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak attempts at clawing his arm to get the little taste of pleasure he took away from you back.

He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimper, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little piece of shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sings in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nod, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound could make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh comes up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smooths over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbles, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your scent. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole and soaking your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slides under your shorts,and a gasp leaves you because of how cold he feels. Jake is always warmer than you, but your fever makes it so his touch feels icy against your skin. Your back arches slightly when one of his digits parts your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggles into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly drags them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually, his stupid little jokes would’ve made you groan and push his face away. But this time—blame his voice for being deeper and hoarser than normal, or blame your fever—it makes you clench around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he takes his sweet time playing with you, savoring the moment.

Your head digs deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathes into your neck and goes back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

A yelp leaves your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you closed shooting open when Jake bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smooths over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, the pleasure overriding anything else. 

Jake finally prods two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction is instantaneous, cunt fluttering against his fingertips right away. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake is so fucking turned on, he can barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind is get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He feels like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life is just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seems different to him, almost animalistic, from the way you rut your hips against his hand as soon as he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, to the way you aren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this is just from his fingers, he can do so much worse.

You yourself aren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you help Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you feel from the fever. His fingers are so long, hitting all the right spots you know you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles drag against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasp when he turns his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knows has you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room is filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You can feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashes on you, heavy and almost painful. You claw at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake is not facing you anymore.

He looks at the comforter, over his shoulder. The cap filled with syrup is still there amidst the mess. He twists his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he's fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spill onto his shirt as he takes a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tries his best to hold it in his mouth. You're still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty to the point you don't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend is providing you with.

“J-Jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabs your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure you've learned means it is time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he know you to be. And you do just that; immediately following his movements like he trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure.

He bends down slightly to aim better, but this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expect, he lets small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly try to back away from him, but he holds you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor does he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand holds your jaw open, grasp getting firmer every time you try to break free from it. After all, you made a promise, and Jake's going to make sure you fulfill it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouths against your lips once he makes sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashes his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss but a silencing of any complaint you're about to spit at him. Those turn to even more whines when he finally brings his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucks you to your orgasm. It's almost instantaneous, you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth, but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slow down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too relishes in how your cunt pulses around his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh, he wishes it was his cock being constricted like that instead, but that can wait.

You finally feel like you can breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you possibly can, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets are drenched around you, and you can't even pinpoint when it happened, but you can immediately tell you aren't the only one who made a mess. Your gaze wanders to Jake’s pants, and a very evident stain on his crotch catches your attention. And fuck, if you aren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looks absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste, truly.

You sneak your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake lets out when you wrap your hand around his cock and pump a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watches you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you lick your fingers clean. He slides his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up just as much as you did him. His heart races in his chest as you keep looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you speak up, giggling when Jake interrupts you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curls an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He places a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–” 

“And won’t.” he deadpans, sensing where you're trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smile to yourself, feeling feather light kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He places a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grab a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rests his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you say, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzles his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He places another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you take too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughs at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence is muffled against your mound as you push his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggle as you lay back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue makes contact with your cunt.

Jake's movements are slow and deliberate at first, as he takes his sweet time collecting all of the slick coating your lips and smearing it all over your skin. It's methodical in a way Jake very rarely is, nothing like the primal and messy mixing of his own spit with your arousal and grunting noises you're so used to. When he gets like this, it's purely to tease you.

You grab a fistful of his hair, the strands soft in your hand, and raise his head to force him to look at you.

You almost regret it when you're met with the sight of him licking his lips, his plump lips spreading in a grin that looks almost evil. His irises are entirely drowning in the dark of his pupils, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't send a chill down your spine. The good kind, the type that also makes you clench your thighs against his frame.

"If you're gonna beg me to eat me out," you say, finding your strength again and being careful not to let Jake see any weakness on your features. "You better do it properly."

You try to keep a straight face when he erupts in a fit of giggles.

"Oooh, look at you—" he starts, clearly amused by your attempt to assert dominance. "I know what I'm doing. You know I know what I'm doing. It just seems to me that I've spoiled the princess a little too much lately." He lowers his head to your thighs, and litters soft kisses as he makes himself comfortable again. Somewhere along the lines, the harsh hold you had on his hair turned into your hand dragging him closer, but you can't pinpoint the exact moment.

Or you just really don't care to know, not when Jake starts lapping up at your cunt like he's starving.

"You taste so delicious, baby," he moans between licks, his nose pressing further into your heat with every movement of his. "So much better than any medicine. Fuck—you're gonna be my little cure from now on. Every time I'm sick, I'll just let you open your legs for me. You'd let me, baby. Wouldn't you?"

You nod vehemently, before realizing he can't see you. "Yes, please use me," you moan, spreading your thighs as far as you can while pushing his head closer to you, even when it's almost physically impossible for Jake to even breathe. Not that he would have it any other way.

The grip on his hair, the way you push and pull at it as if you have any command over the stimulation he's giving you, the way you sing for him with every flick of his tongue. It all makes Jake's head spin in the best way possible, his cock stiff again in his pants and throbbing against the very fabric he ruined with his cum only minutes before.

He grunts and moans into you, like he's the one being pleasured, and it all adds to the magic Jake is working on you. The vibrations only aiding in inching you closer to the second orgasm of the day.

"Jake, I'm close, please."

You don't need to say anything else, because he parts from your cunt for a single second. Just enough to let a gobble of his spit drip down right on your engorged clit, coating it in more shiny essence.

You're about the complain about the lack of stimulation, but he dives right back in, licking a singular stripe from your poor mess a of hole upwards. He can taste the remains of the syrup in his own spit still, and paired with the straight up divine taste of your own slick, Jake thinks he might be in heaven.

"So sweet, baby. So fucking sweet. It's like you want me to never stop fucking you with my tongue." He catches your little bundle of nerves between his raw lips, already wet with spit, suckling on it like he's trying to coax even more wetness out of you. He swirls his tongue around it, his eyebrows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration as he keeps toying and prodding at every single part of your pussy.

You're so unbelievably close to coming undone, every passing second just bringing you closer to the brink. All it takes to send you over the edge is Jake moaning with your numb right in his mouth, the small vibrations from it all you needed for the searing white feeling to envelop you completely, the familiar silent yet still deafening tingly sensation spreading from your core to all the limbs in your body.

Jake keeps lapping up all your generous body gives him, thankful for it all and careful not to let a single drop go to waste.

Your arm is thrown over your eyes as you catch your breath, this second orgasm completely emptying you of whatever energy you had left. Usually you would offer Jake to help him out as a little thank you, even though he told you time and time again that it wasn't needed and pleasing you what was got him off in the first place.

But as much as you denied it initially, the fever did take a toll on you, more than you would like to admit. So any further activity would have to wait.

"Yummy." Jake comes up from below you, drying the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. Even if you're tired and spent, the comment is enough to make you remove your arm from your eyes just so you can give him a well deserved death stare.

He gets up from the bed, disappearing for a few seconds into the bathroom. "What's with that look? No 'thank you Jake, you're the best?'"

When you don't reply, far too weakened to even try to banter with your boyfriend, he walks back into the room with a towel and a worried look etched on his gorgeous features.

He gets on the bed again, careful not to move your body more than necessary, and starts cleaning you up with the gentlest touch you've ever felt him use. "Did i tire you out too much? You're still sick—"

"You were great. Don't worry," you stop his train of thoughts you knew you wouldn't hear the end of if you let him go on for any longer. "I just need a nap, then I'll be as good as new."

The tension in Jake's shoulders only disappears once you smile at him, his own face morphing to match your own. It's one of your favorite things about him, how he's so careful and attentive to every hint and feeling on your face, he ends up mirroring them without even noticing.

He runs his hands soothingly all over your skin as he resumes cleaning you up, the room falling into a peaceful silence.

You almost fall asleep, but you should've known Sim Jake shutting up for once was far too good to be true.

"Look at the mess you made though. This is enough to start an entire pharmacy."

[enwoso]

weight of the world | part one

alessia russo x baby!reader

-> based on this request. | some upsetting themes throughout read on with caution.

grumpy masterlist

the training ground was eerily quiet in the early morning haze, dew clinging stubbornly to the blades of grass.

alessia sat on the bench alone, her fingers stiff as they worked the laces of her boots. yank. pull. knot. repeat. every motion was slow, methodical, like a machine going through the motions, except her mind—alessia’s mind was a storm.

it had felt like she was living in a fog, heavy and thick, and no matter how much she tried to push through, it only made the air feel thicker.

she had barely slept—maybe an hour, two at most if she was lucky. you had screamed through the night again. screamed and sobbed until alessia's head felt like it might split open, until the pit of her stomach twisted with guilt every time she couldn't make it stop.

the crying, the feeding, the changing, the endless rocking, the lullabies she didn't believe in, all while her body screamed for rest, a break for just a minute. her soul for a moment of peace.

but there was no peace. no time to stop. no room to rest.

none of it mattered. she couldn't break. she couldn't fall apart. she had to keep going. she had no choice. she wasn't allowed to fail. not now. not when you needed her. not when the team needed her, needed her to be back scoring goals as if it was second nature. not when she needed to prove that she could do it all—be a mother, a player, a professional, all without falling apart.

"mornin', less," ella called out, her voice light, easy, but there was something underneath it. worry. concern. it tugged at alessia's chest as ella jogged over and tossed the blonde a bottle of water.

"morning," alessia muttered, her voice flat, void of any emotion far from her usual bubbly self. alessia didn't look up, her focus still entirely on the boots in her lap. feeling the weight of ella's gaze on her—always so perceptive, always so damn kind. and that kindness made alessia feel like she was failing even more.

ella frowned, an instinctive crease forming between her brows as she stood there, watching alessia struggle to keep it together. she knew the blonde like the back of her hand, she didn't need alessia to say anything, ella could tell just by the blondes demeanour.

it had been just over two months since alessia had gave birth, since the beautiful day that you were welcomed into the world. two months since the team threw a celebration for alessia, two months since the congratulatory messages and homemade cupcakes piled up.

but the joy, the excitement, the magic of it all—it had all faded too quickly. it had to. the world didn't pause for a new mother, no matter how hard she wished it would.

alessia had forced herself back into training too soon. too soon for her body, which still ached in places she hadn't realised existed, far too soon for her mind, which was still reeling from the shock of motherhood, too soon for her heart, which was still trying to understand how it could be so full of love and yet so completely empty at the same time.

but every time someone, anyone, suggested slowing down, taking it easy, just resting, she smiled that stiff smile and said, "i'm fine." through gritted teeth.

coping. focused. strong.

but she wasn't fine — far from it.

ella could see it. everyone could see it.

alessia's kit hung off her frame like it didn't belong to her. there was nothing of the confident, cocky, powerhouse of striker who used to demand the ball, used to make the crowd roar and chant her name.

now, she looked smaller. frail, even. the dark smudges under her eyes didn't seem to fade no matter how much alessia had tried to cover them. there were days when she couldn't even remember what she'd eaten, if she'd eaten at all, and it scared her how easy it was to just let the hunger slide by unnoticed.

it was like she was floating through life, disconnected, like she wasn't fully present in her own body. just surviving, not living.

sometimes, when she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she didn't even recognise the person staring back at her. was that still alessia russo, the athlete, the fiery competitor? or was that just a shell, someone hollowed out, struggling to breathe under the weight of it all?

and the worst part and probably most worrying part? the club? they had barely noticed. or maybe worse, they had noticed and did nothing. the same old football story. just keep going. push through. man up. get on with it. even after all she'd been through, even after she'd given birth to a child.

but ella had noticed.

"alessia," ella called after training, jogging up behind her as the team filed toward the changing rooms, the word feeling different coming from her lips — ella never called her alessia. but alessia wasn't listening to 'less'.

alessia froze. her shoulders stiffened, like she had been caught doing something wrong. she could feel the heat rising in her face, the shame creeping up from deep within her.

she didn't want to talk. she didn't want to admit that she was falling apart, that she felt weak. she didn't want to admit that she couldn't even remember what it was like to feel normal.

"can we talk?" alessia kept her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, as though if she didn't look at ella, she wouldn't have to face the truth.

"about what?"

"you," ella said bluntly, stepping closer, her eyes searching alessia's face. "and everything."

alessia yanked off her boots in sharp, jerky movements. she could feel her hands shaking, the tremors from hunger, from exhaustion, from all of it. she wasn't fine. she was far from fine. but she couldn't admit it. she couldn't let anyone else see her like this.

"i'm fine," alessia bit out, each word a lie.

"but you're not, less," ella said softly, her voice breaking through the walls alessia had carefully built. "you look exhausted. you've lost weight. you're snapping at the girls. you're not—"

ella stopped, swallowed hard, as though she was trying to keep her own emotions in check. "you're not you."

alessia's breath caught in her chest for a minute. she knew somewhere deep inside of her that ella was right. she knew she hadn't been herself for weeks. but hearing it out loud made the ache in her chest feel even heavier.

"i'm a mum now, ella," alessia snapped, her voice rough, but there was a rawness there, a vulnerability she couldn't hide. "i'm meant to be different. i don't get to slow down. i don't get to take a break. i've got y/n now, the team. i've got to keep it together."

"you don't have to do it alone though," ella said desperately, her voice softening. she reached out to touch alessia's arm, a silent plea for her to let her in.

but alessia jerked back, the rage, the fear, the crushing weight of everything, rising up in her chest like a wave she couldn't stop. she couldn't let herself fall apart. not now. not ever.

"well, maybe i want to!" alessia spat, the words coming out with a venom she didn't even know she had. "maybe i don't need you, or anyone, telling me how to take care of my own daughter!"

ella recoiled, her face crumpling, hurt flashing in her eyes. the pain of rejection, of seeing her teammate, her best friend or at this point her sister—shut down like that, was written across her features.

and alessia felt it, but she couldn't stop herself. she couldn't control the bitterness, the fear, the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had been consuming her.

alessia felt the words hanging in the air, heavy and cruel, but she couldn't stop herself now. the rage and fear and exhaustion were boiling over, out of her control.

"i'm doing the best i can okay," alessia whispered, voice breaking completely, before turning and storming off—leaving ella staring after her, helpless.

⸻

that night, alessia barely held it together.

you cried for hours—piercing, endless wails that sliced straight through alessia's frayed nerves, scraping them raw. each sound felt like a physical blow, echoing inside her skull, vibrating through her ribs.

alessia rocked you with desperate, jerky motions, whispering lullabies through clenched teeth that tasted like blood and bile, clutched you a little too tightly in a moment of blind panic—only to immediately loosen her grip, horror clawing up her throat.

'what are you doing?'

'what's wrong with you?'

alessia's arms ached with the effort of holding you, arms that had once scored goals, won games, lifted trophy’s, now trembling just to keep her from dropping the one thing she was supposed to protect with all her power.

alessia's back throbbed, her legs quivered beneath her weight. her head spun sickeningly, a carousel of exhaustion and hunger and a bits of shame.

she couldn't even remember the last time she ate a real meal, that wasn't just some leftovers warmed up cause that's all she could muster the strength to make. food had become an afterthought, another task she couldn't find the strength to complete properly. she survived on coffee, cold toast, and guilt.

the kitchen was like a war zone. there was spilled formula crusted on top of the countertops, a bottle knocked over which had been forgotten about hours ago. the laundry room was filled with a muddied swamp of baby clothes and sweat-soaked training kit.

dishes sat abandoned in the dishwasher, some had maybe been there a few days but she couldn't find it in herself to face them. unopened bills slumped in a guilty pile on the kitchen table, accusing her with every glance.

the house smelled wrong—faintly of sour milk and something sharper, something metallic, something she couldn't even name. it curled in her nostrils, turned her stomach, made her gag with shame.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be a magical fairytale like what they showed in the films.

when alessia finally managed to lay you down in your crib—heart pounding, hands shaking, teeth gritted so hard they were starting to hurt—she stumbled out into the hallway on numb legs, fighting the urge to scream, to rip her hair out by the roots, to run.

but then alessia caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

she flinched back like she'd seen a stranger. pale. gaunt. eyes sunken into her skull, ringed with angry shadows. hair greasy, clumped into messy tangles that stuck to her forehead. lips cracked and raw from dehydration.

alessia's shoulders were hunched defensively, like she was bracing herself for some invisible blow she couldn't stop.

her body which was once so strong, so quick, so sure—was wasting away into something unfamiliar. something weak.

not a footballer. not a mum. not anything she recognised.

just broken. emptiness. a mere shadow of the person she once used to be. just broken and drowning and too tired to even call for help.

ella's voice rang through the silence of the house like a siren: ‘you're not you, less'

alessia pressed her arms tightly around herself, as if she could hold the pieces together by force, like she could will herself back into the person she used to be. she squeezed harder and harder, nails digging into her forearms, until the ache gave her something real to focus on.

she didn't cry. she didn't scream. she just stood there, trembling, like a ghost in her own home.

alessia's breathing became shallow and quick. her heart raced against her ribs, desperate to escape a body she no longer knew how to inhabit. she thought about crawling into bed, but the idea of lying still, alone with her own mind, terrified her more than the exhaustion did.

so instead alessia stayed there, rooted to the spot, watching the stranger in the mirror tremble and fade under the weight of everything she wasn't strong enough to fix.

and for the first time, the terrifying thought crept into her mind—quiet and poisonous: 'maybe they would all be better off without me.'

⸻

meanwhile, a few streets over, ella stared at her phone. biting her lip, worry gnawing away at her chest. leaving a heavy feeling that she couldn't seem to get rid no matter how much she tried to get her mind occupied.

ella couldn't leave it like this. she couldn’t just watch alessia unravel and do nothing. so she did the only thing she could think of—the only thing that felt right. she scrolled through her contacts before landing on the name, the one person who alessia may actually listen to.

and with trembling hands, ella pressed call. she knew alessia may not be happy, god she may hate ella for doing it but she couldn't leave it like that.

the phone rang twice before they answered, a breathless. "hello?"

-> part two

[r0-boat]

Whb 7 Kings react to sick!reader

WHB x Fem!reader

Sfw but suggestive thanks to several demons.

This post is a gift for @notquitebunnie

But all can read!

To anyone who is sick and finds this rest well! Make sure to eat and drink plenty of water! :)

This is a Headcannon formatted like a storyline! All devil and their parts written will be out of order to fit the plot!! Please enjoy~

Intro:

Did you think just because you were in hell you were safe from the cons of human mortality... Well maybe you did. Until you where woken up by the churning nausea You felt in your stomach the metallic taste on your tongue as your mouth screams for water. But as you turned to get up you crushing feeling of weakness and a searing migraine hits you like a train.

Your nose was stuffy, and it hurt to swallow, Your body ached and you somehow felt cold. You wish you never woke up as you tossed the sheets back over your body cocooning yourself.

But that sweet, sweet relief of peace didn't last long, as your bedroom door slammed open. The lock on your door snapped under the pressure of being forced open, and the loud noise made your head throb. Oh God, how could you forget where you are and who you surround yourself with?

Satan

The human who usually comes for the breakfast and tea Sitri prepares every morning has not even shown up. Sitri was way more pressed about it than Satan who just told Sitri to fuck off. He knew what it's like The sleep inn. Sometimes, your body just doesn't feel ready to get up yet. "Eh fuck off. You're worrying too much... Being 10 minutes late ain't going to kill you..." But then Sitri replied. " When I press my ear to the door that's Solomon usually keeps locked her heartbeat was about 30% faster than it usually is!"

Satan cussed under his breath. This is a human we're talking about—a human the angels are gnashing their teeth to kill. A faster heart rate is a good sign of stress, and if the daughter of Solomon is stressed, there must be a reason. Maybe checking in on her wouldn't hurt.

Caring little for the new lock she installed on her door, he practically beat the door off its hinges as he stormed into the room with Sitri in tow. "HEY! WAKEY WAKEY WOMAN!"

Satan yells as he marches over to your bed carelessly grabbing the sheets and tossing it off. As soon as he saw your body curled up wincing in pain trying to hide your eyes from the bright light he immediately sensed something was wrong. Immediately his harsh tone softens But on the inside his boiling hot rage only increased, seeing her like this made his blood boil. "Is everything all right?!" He hissed through his teeth as his hands quick and urgently checked for any wounds. "You're not physically hurt... What the fuck?"

With a pissed off grow your weak voice managed to tremble out "get out Satan! Trying to fucking sleep I don't feel good..."

Getting yelled at by you was always a treat as he felt his heart flutter, but there were more concerning matters at play. "Fuck no I'm not getting the fuck out. What's wrong with you? Why do you not feel good?!"

You knew screaming at him would just encourage his behavior so you just stayed silent putting the pillow over your head trying your best to ignore him.

Despite you telling him to leave you alone Satan stayed in your room all day on his knees his chin resting on the mattress He looks like a kicked puppy waiting for its master has he pestered you with all kinds of questions that you couldn't nor cared little to answer. "Did you eat something bad?"

"no."

"Is it poison?"

"no."

"are you sure you didn't get stabbed or shot or-"

"No!"

...

... "Is your pussy shedding?"

*irritated sighs*

Mammon

Satan didn't want to do this but he had no choice. if it had something to do with Solomon wants to send it it was a national hell-wide issue. But to not cause complete chaos he couldn't just release it to the public that's something was wrong with Solomon's daughter. So for now he told someone who's he's the closest to.

And he regretted it instantly.

Satan: I think our human is broken.

SilverSpoonBitch: ???

Satan: *sends a picture of a sick human lying face down on the bed.*

SilverSpoonBitch: Maybe she is finally tired of being around poor people.

Satan: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS I BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU FOR FUCKING HELP CAN'T YOU JUST COME OVER WITH YOUR FANCY LITTLE GADGETS AND SHIT AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IF SHE DIES I'M KILLING YOU.

Mammon came as quickly as he could his helicopter landing right in front of Satan's palace. Instead of a warm welcome he was instead screamed at by a tiny flee.

"CAN YOU FUCKING TRAVEL HERE NORMALLY?!" Satan snarled the way his hair was standing on end and his back was arched to reminded Mammon of an angry kitten.

"Relax my tiny terror. The helicopter is here for a reason. How else am I going to get here with all these things... You told me to bring whatever I could to see what's wrong with her, did you not?" Say no only answered with a growl as Bimet steps out the other side of the helicopter. "Also your majesty Satan. Could you provide us with extra hands? "

...

Great, more noise—that's exactly what you needed. You heard whispered voices coming down the hall. You fake sobbed to yourself as you pressed harder into the pillow. The door that you spent precious time and energy on and also risked the tea you had for breakfast propping up just tipped back and slammed onto the marble floor. You heard Bimet's voice first. "I've seen her look bad wearing hobo rags but never like this... "

Mammon hummed putting a hand to his chin "indeed She looks like she's in pain? Are you sure you checked for wounds?"

"I TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME I DID SHE'S IN PAIN BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK THE WOUND IS I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THERE IS ONE!?"

Fuck you Satan and you're loud ass voice.

Mammon then chuckles. "Oh you innocent little thing... Have you ever thought about internal bleeding?!" Sitri and Satan's eyes widen as they never thought about that before.

Bimet chimes in with a proud smile "His Majesty Mammon and just blessed you with his wealthy knowledge! Your majesty, you are truly a gift to this world!"

Mammon gets closer You felt his big hands on you, normally you would be more than okay with this but today all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never be seen again as you felt his strong hand stroking all over your body trying to find where you might have damaged something inside you. When his fingers pressed on your stomach your eyes shut open. You felt it. The churning in your stomach finally winning you over the devil's watched with wide eyes and shock as you sprint to the bathroom attached to your bedroom life your life depended on it. You didn't even care closing the door as everything you tried eating and have drank goes down the drain. You've never seen such a look on Mammon as he scoops you up off the bathroom floor cleaning your mouth with his own clothes. You putting you back in bed.

"This is serious..." Mammon growls. "I didn't feel any internal bleeding... But when I pressed over her stomach that's what she did. I know very little about stomachs and food... Buuut we know someone who might..."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub Who is leaning against the door just called out to the devil's in front of him "You called?" He said with a sly smile as Mammon and Satan turned around to face him. "The hell did you come from?" Satan asked.

"I mean I was just wondering around but it was hard to miss the giant golden helicopter flying above me. " Beelzebub said his finger twirling to mimic a helicopter.

"So what's happening here?" He asked walking over to your bed sitting on the mattress next to you gently rubbing your side.

"We don't know. I found the daughter of Solomon like this. I thought someone was hurting her. There's something wrong, but we don't know what it is." Satan explained as Mammon continued. " I thought it might have been internal bleeding since Satan found no wounds. So I checked her body for it, but when I pressed on her stomach, she threw up. " Beelzebub's eyebrows furrowed immediately. "Has she eaten anything?" He asked, and Sitri shook his head. " No, Solomon didn't come down for breakfast. It looks like she drank some of the tea I left for her. But It doesn't matter now since She threw it all up. "

"could you prepare something to eat please? Of course she would probably feel pain in her stomach if she doesn't have any food in it. And she probably feels weak because of it as well. "

Satan and Mammon ordered their second in command-to prepare something. The devil Kings continued to discuss and fill in each other today. All this chatter was seriously not helping, as every now and then you would grumble and turn as much as Beelzebub's constant stroking on your back felt good. It was getting old pretty fast. The way she was tossing and turning her eyes glute shut The three kings decided to add another into their mission as Beel pulled out his phone to text an old friend. "You think he'll respond?" Mammon asks leaning over to look at the text message between Beel and Beleth.

"ya, I know Beleth Will respond but... Belphegor. Ehh It will be a while till he gets here."

Sitri comes in with hearty meats from barbecued pulled pork to premium steak then some lambs do with chopped and stewed potatoes. Bimet comes in with stressed rice dishes and grilled fish. Cooked and even plated to perfection Even some smoked salmon and caviar.

You are not hungry in fact the opposite just smelling the food in the room was making You want a hurdle

"Solomon's not eating..." Says a worried Sitri as they watched you for a while only for you to do nothing.

"obviously she's too weak She's gone too long without food we're going to have to feed her."

That sentence from the king of gluttony made you wince without your blanket of protection you just weekly tried to fight back as all you wanted to do was sleep. "Please can I please just go to sleep!"

"Solomon you can't not until you eat something!" Sitri spoke softly trying to spoon feed you a piece of steak but being careful and not being too forceful.

"our methods aren't working... And we don't want to hurt her." Satan hissed.

"I know just the guy that will make her eat." Beel chirped.

Leviathan

When he heard that something was happening to her. They made it sound like she was dying and at first they thought they were just exaggerating until he saw the state she was in.

He wanted to kill and maim everyone in the goddamn room as soon as he saw her. She looked like a disaster She looked like she was already one foot in the grave. "How could you fucking leave her like this?!" "How long was she like this!!"

They tried calming Leviathan down and explaining the situation.

Levi's and stomped over to your bed sliced a piece of something grabbed your face forcefully and tried to force your mouth open.

"You will eat this goddamn food and you will like it!!!" You are screaming back at Leviathan as the two of you start fighting. Every last bit of your strength you could muster from this hellish morning trying to fight off the one bastard you did not want to see today. You look toward the five other devils in the room, screaming for help. Only for them to look to the side, ignoring your cries for help.

"It's for your own good Solomon" Sitri muttered.

When you finally ate some by courtesy and help from your dear Leviathan.❤️

You laid down on the ground catching your breath. For a moment the king's watched you finally thinking they could arrest before you launched up running to the bathroom once more.

"This may take a while..." Beelzebub sighs

"if her body isn't cooperating then we're going to have to force it" Leviathan hissed getting a dark look in his eye that made you shudder as Mammon princess carried you back to your bed.

Belphegor

Belphegor finally arrived on Beleth's back; when he finally entered the room, he woke up with a yawn and a stretch. Beleth set him down on a nearby chair before walking up to Beel. "Sup, your majesty," He says, giving him a handshake. "Aye! I'm all right. Have you tried the stuff I sent you?" As the two talked, Belphegor scooted his chair closer to your bed. " Hm? Sooo... What's goin on?" He leaned to the side, his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his hand, occasionally closing his eyes for a power nap as they explained. "So the girl just needs sleep eh? Why'd ya call me then? Just close ya eyes, ain't hard. "

"You think she hasn't tried that already we would watch her go to sleep and then wake up. Plus it's hard to sleep when she's rushing to the bathroom every hour."

"did ya feed her?" He asked.

"yep, the finest foods from Tartaros. Didn't matter. She wouldn't keep it down" Mammon answered.

"Well, shit... Anythin puts me to sleep so I ain't sure how to deal with this." Belphegor muttered studying your face You look lethargic but not sleepy

"tsk! Can you be any more useless??? Can't you just use your power to put her to sleep?" Levi's and said his arms crossed his foot tapping.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Majesty Leviathan." Beleth piped up Make it his way to the other side of the bed His hand running through your hair as he pet you. "if we try that she might not wake up for years maybe even decades."

"Okay so that's out, So What the fuck are we going to do sing her lullabies?!" Satan growled

Belphegor did smile and chuckle at the joke but turned to Beleth "This thinking is hard, You got any ideas?"

Beleth Who was petting your head rolled his hand over your forehead His eyebrows creased as they pressed harder taking your temperature. "Your Maj, She's hot..."

"okay no shit?" Belphegor responded His eyebrow raised.

"No your Maj, I mean her temperature. Kind of reminds me of that Christmas cold she got a while back; remember, When she was hotter than a desert in a summer drought."

At this revelation Satan snarled clutching his fists. "So she's holding back her desires again?!"

He stomped forward tearing his white top clean off already but Mammon stopped him "Your eagerness is welcomed but She might already be too far gone, She can't even keep food down I've never seen a Christmas cold do that but can't be good."

"IT'S WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO TO STAND THERE WHILE SHE FUCKING DIES?!" Satan screamed this time grabbing Mammon by the collar.

Belphegor already nodding off mumbles "Eh, Maybe you just need someone so lustful that it could cure her even like this."

Someone so lustful...

They all knew who he meant by that but none of the kings wanted to acknowledge him. But it had to be done... For your safety...

Asmodeus

Devils from Gehenna either coward in fear or immediately presented themselves in front of the king of the last as he made his way toward the room where he was called to do his 'work.' This was hardly the time of year to even catch the Christmas call, but who is he to complain? The six Kings, the six th buffoons, called upon him to do a task he possibly cannot refuse! So, despite women and men alike throwing their naked bodies at him, it pained him, but he had to refuse, for someone far greater waited for him.

He was already ready when he entered the room, wearing a red bathrobe and a leather case containing God knows what. The Kings stepped out of their way as he walked forward, literally in the middle of loosening his robes before getting a look at you. His eager smile disappears and is replaced by a concerned and confused look. Despite how hard he was, and believe me, he was fucking rigid. You can't expect them not to be, getting a call from the 6th most handsome devil in all of hell offering him to fuck the one woman you desire and all the world while they watch. A dream come true. But... What he was saying was not the symptoms of a Christmas cold...

"Um... excuse me, but could you mind filling me in on what happened today?" The devils were just as confused as he was, so they relented. They told him everything: the weakness in his body, the refusal to eat, the constant puking, the agitated mood, the heavy breathing, the sweaty body, everything.

And Asmodeus was staring at them eyes wide in silence.

The slut was too stunned to speak.

He stood there in silence until it finally broke but with a wheeze

And then laughter.

Not just laughter.

He was dying.

He laughed so hard that he was trying not to cough. He held his stomach, trying to keep his composure so he would not be on the floor.

He had tears in his eyes as the six kings watched as the king of lust laughed his ass off for 5 minutes before finally regaining composure and wiping the tears from his face. He tied up his robe, grabbed the blanket that had been discarded on the floor this whole time, and sat on the bed with a softened look, tucking you in.

"Are you truly this foolish? Or Is your knowledge of humans this lacking?" He asked as he looked back at the six, trying to hide the anger and embarrassment of how hard he laughed. Before Satan was about to yell Asmodeus continued. "This is no Christmas cold, nor is it a curse; she's not hurt from the inside and the outside, well, not physically... I think she's just sick. Plain and simple. "

The room was silent. And Belphegor was sleeping (possibly wanting to be woken up after the sex is over.)

"I've seen plenty of devils get sick before none of them act like this?" Leviathan questioned pointing to all of you in a slight condescending tone.

"well that's the thing my pretty princess, It's that humans immune systems are not as strong as a devil's. We are sick for hours rarely a day but when humans get sick they They can be sick for possibly days..."

He explains while his gentle hands look over at the barely eaten food keep picked up a small empty bowl getting a spoon scooping up some white rice and some miso soup to mix it together. Something light and good for the stomach.

"Here, my dear,, these animals won't bother you anymore. " He spoke in a soft tone. At first, you were frightened upon seeing him, but seeing his softened gaze and his kind, almost nurturing smile as he held what looked like something you could actually handle, You got up and started eating the miso plus white rice concoction. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't entirely good either, but to your sick mind it was the best thing you've ever had to eat all day.

Asmodeus then picks up the empty cup of tea taking up the tea bag taking out the hot tea bag and the dry tea leaves as he poured a cup of now lukewarm water. "Drink this to, It's water it's not much but you're probably thirsty."

You barely mouth a thank you before taking the cup.

Now, the devils were too stunned to speak as someone they thought would be the most useless ended up helping you. Leviathan was beyond pissed. His face was contorted with pure envy as if that was the same food he tried to force you to eat. Asmodeus got you to eat with little effort and a smile.

And honestly Satan was relieved. At this point anything would have helped, well he was angry at mostly himself for pretty much failing you and just making whatever what's wrong with you worse. Beelzebub was nodding along He didn't take an account that certain foods just won't settle well. "I understand though,"Asmodeus hummed as with his gentle hands eased you back to bed.

"I remember being just like all of you when my late wife pregnant with our first of many good morning sickness. Hehe~I thought I was about to lose her and my child." He reminisced to no one in particular. Before turning back to the group of devils

"I would advise you get a doctor as well. It's not serious. But a medical professional is always handy. "

"call Lucifer!" Leviathan barked a Satan was already on his phone. "Okay okay! God damn!"

Lucifer

Lucifer was pinching the bridges of his nose. Hearing the entire story if they thought it was a Christmas cold why didn't they call him before? He asked but he probably already knew the answer to that.

He didn't normally do personal visits but this was different. With a bag he got out some tools It wasn't much but it was enough for a diagnosis.

"looks like the flu. A common human virus. Mutates every year so humans try to get flu shots every year." He said.

"I would recommend going to the human world and getting this." With a piece of paper and a pen he writes down certain kinds of over the counter medicine and drugs. "If they have it in hell don't give it to her. Those kinds of drugs probably wouldn't be suitable for the human body. Oh and also-"

As he talks to himself he writes down the kinds of food she could eat and what else she could do.

"Her symptoms should last 5 to 7 days, I believe. If they last any longer, don't hesitate to call me." He says. He looks over at your face, and now you are breathing calmly. You finally have drifted off to sleep. A flicker of a smile graces his lips as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

Epilogue:

And with that, the great hell crisis was over... Well almost... You still wouldn't be able to get your beloved peace and quiet as you got many visits from many devils of the 72 over those seven days, some bringing care baskets while others home-cooked meals. Even those from Abbaddon who cannot leave their cells mailed you sweet treats and very saucy letters.

As much as it heavily irritated you about how horrible it was to wake up with seven loud and screaming adult men. But you knew it was out of a place of care.

Silly devils; never change.

[postmoe]

One Step at a Time. Yandere Anaxa

I have had the worst fucking week. Rather than going into the grief and financial disasters of it all, I also lost my 50/50 and my 75/25 to this man so FUCK YOU ANAXAGORAS.

forced kiss, kidnapping, self-deprecating reader

.

He's reading some hardcover book with no title. His eyes idly scan across the page though his expression shows no interest. Worst of all, he's leaning against the toilet door so you can't get in. You tried to walk away to use the other one, but he only grabbed you and pulled you back. That happened four times before you stopped.

"This is ridiculous," you huff, crossing your arms in frustration, "I'm about to piss on the floor."

Anaxa briefly raises his gaze to yours, "What's ridiculous is that you won't do this simple thing. You'd rather urinate on yourself than give me a kiss? Childish."

Your cheeks heat up, eyes unable to focus in his direction, "You don't get it! It's not that easy for me. My lips are really bad right now anyway..." Your tongue swipes them before your fingers lift up to touch the dryness and cracks in your skin. You've always been hyper aware of your flaws, it's why you closed yourself off for so long.

Being kidnapped and held hostage by this psycho has only raised your anxieties. It was only a matter of time before he got fed up of you ignoring his advances, so he came up with the brilliant idea of 'transactions'. You want to sit in the garden? Only if you hold hands. Hungry? Sit on his lap for a few minutes so he can hold you. Now you need to pee and he wants you to kiss him, which you've done before, but he added the word 'tongue' to the receipt and you're just not ready for that.

He's not taking your excuse. Your body jumps as he slams the book shut with one hand, pushing off the door to stand intimidatingly before you.

You try to hold your own but you're shaking like a leaf in Autumn, just before it falls. You think you will fall if you don't calm yourself soon. Anaxa finally speaks up, making no move to touch you or bring you closer, "Patience isn't my virtue, but thankfully I make up for it in my stubbornness. I'm not so grossed out by bodily fluids that you're getting out of this. However, you may not enjoy the lesson I have planned to speed up your progress if you fail to try yourself."

With a heavy frown, you hold your hands tightly to your chest, scenarios running wildly in your head as you try to decipher his sentence, "What... What does that mean? What lesson?"

There's no change in his face, nor his stance, yet you can feel the excitement dripping off every word, "I'm quite handy with rope. If I get you naked and examine you thoroughly, then you'd have no reason to hide anymore. It's my ideal outcome, though I do care about you enough to take in your consideration as well."

How ironic. It's just a kiss, just a little tongue. And honestly, he is the monster who has stolen you away, why care about what he thinks at all? If he's disgusted by you then that's his fault for not doing the research! So, with this new - barely there - resolve, you step closer and place your trembling hands on his chest. Awkwardly, you lick your lips and stand on the tips of your toes, "F-Fine. Just one kiss."

Anaxa's hands start by gently cupping your hips, where did the book go?, and pulls you closer so that your chest is against his. His lips meet with yours, ready for your jolt as one of his hands holds the back of your head so you don't squirm away once his tongue touches your bottom lip. Your little yelp is cute to him, his other hands large and pressing warmly between your shoulder blades. Eventually, you stop trembling so badly, relaxing into his hold while your tongue shyly moves against his once he enters your mouth. You expected it to be warmer, the muscle cool, wet and countering the warmth of his body to yours.

Once he declares it's enough, giving you a squeeze before allowing you to pull away, your face is red and gasping as your teary eyes look to his for confirmation. You have to swallow the built up saliva before you ask, "Can I go now?"

He doesn't want to let you go, he wants to keep kissing you until your head goes fuzzy and your legs give out. He wants you underneath him and crying out his name as he fucks you so good that even leaving his embrace feels like a sin. Why won't you just fall for him like he did for you? And they call him blasphemous. His thumb rubs soothingly against your bottom lips, pushing the plump flesh down and letting it bounce back tantalizingly. His voice is low, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, "I love every part of you. Don't worry yourself so much. Not with me. One day, you'll see how silly all of this really is."

Finally, he leaves you alone. You hear his footsteps distancing as you try and gather yourself. It's inevitable, whether you like it or not, he will go all the way with you. You just have to try and make this last as long as you can, if not for your own sanity then your pride as a captive.

You can be stubborn, too.

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

Love At First Fight Collection

Hi everyone. So I'm making yet another collection of stories for a throuple couple. This time it's for Weak Hero. So, I've made some Si-eun x Reader x Su-ho stories and decided to make them and the future ones I plan to make into a series or collection.

I have a lot of ideas, and some of the upcoming chapters are listed below. I need to rewatch the series to add more ideas, especially when it comes to canon events. Ya know?

Now, in these, the boys, in my opinion, could be out of character at times. Especially as I learn to write them.

Warnings for some of these fics: Blood, Death, Cursing.

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update.

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Season 1

Delivery - Link. Summary: You're helping Su-ho at work and end up delivering to the wrong apartment. ------

Season 2

Coming soon.

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COMING SOON.

Season 1

Guardian Angel - Link. Summary: Su-ho stops Si-eun from crossing the line.

Fight - Link. Summary: Si-eun has been taken by Young-bin, and Beom-Seok asks Su-ho for help.

Work and Food - Link. Summary: Su-ho is late for work, so you all pitch in to help.

I Like Him Too - Link. Summary: You and Su-ho have a heart-to-heart about Si-eun.

Claw Machine - Link. Summary: You and Su-ho take Si-eun to an arcade.

Pretty Picture - Link. Summary: Si-eun comes to your house to study. Su-ho comes to your house to sleep.

Hospital Confessions - Link. Summary: You and Su-ho confess your feelings for Si-eun when he brings you food.

Pick up - Link. Summary: You and Su-ho pick Si-eun up from cram school.

Helmet - Link. Summary: You and Su-ho give Si-eun his own helmet.

When Part of The World Stops Turning - Link. Summary: Su-ho is in the hospital. Breathing never felt so hard.

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Season 2

Numb - Link. Summary: With both Su-ho and Si-eun in the hospital, you begin to shut down.

Our Dream - Link. Summary: Your new friends try to comfort you. You tell them about the future you and your boys had planned.

Pretty eyes - Link. Summary: Si-eun wakes up.

Wake up - Link. Summary: Su-ho wakes up.

Room For One More? - Link. Summary: Gotak can't help but comment about how good you and your boyfriends look together.

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Love at First Fight Collection Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. Let me know if you wanna be added to or taken off of this Taglist.

@thecheshireprincess @potato-vagina @spanish-delulu-23 @deliciousmagazinequeen @mizxuqii @psychobitchsthings @hikaerys @pookynknowntranger @eijizwrld @seungminsbestywesty @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @all-of-kpop @mirwors @cassidyysblog @gublerstylesobrien1238 @louissst28

[neiptune]

so long as you're still you and i'm still me

cw: 5k wc, female hashira reader, mention of wounds, scars, trauma, in my heart of hearts this is a continuation of rain is back luck but you can also read it separately. you and sanemi are not exactly friends and not exactly lovers but when you disappear completely after a mission gone particularly wrong he finally musters the courage to pay you a visit

Sanemi sits on his knees, sharp eyes focused on his master as he details the latest missions every hashira is to be dispatched on. The tatami feels oddly soft under his legs, unstable and undulating like a boat lost at sea. Almost pulpy. Is the floor about to swallow him?

He blinks, sternly ordering himself to snap out of it. Ubuyashiki is talking but he can’t quite hear what he’s saying, the one sound drowning out every other noise a low buzz that fills his ears as his lavender gaze slips to his left again.

Empty. No one’s been sitting between him and Shinobu for the past two months.

His fingers twitch in his lap, Kanroji’s melodious pitch somehow cutting through the vacuum of muffled sounds of a world he can’t perceive right.

And then, suddenly, Ubuyashiki says your name. Sanemi blinks, certain his mind is playing tricks on him, but his master is truly describing… a mission?

“What?”, it’s not something he does, interrupt Oyakata-sama. It’s not something anyone does.

“Yes, Sanemi?”, yet, he turns to him with a gentle smile.

“I apologize, master. Did you just say… she’s been on a mission?”.

“Several missions, in fact”, Ubuyashiki nods, “as soon as she could stand, hold her blade again. I insisted she’d take more time to recover, Shinobu did too, but you know how she is”.

“Stubborn”, Kocho murmurs. It sounds like an apology but, as he fists the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turn white, Sanemi can’t bring himself to care.

When the meeting ends, a few pillars decide to stay at the estate for a while longer, to indulge in the warm tea Amane-sama serves. He’s always, without fail, among the first ones to leave but this particular afternoon he believes a cup of tea might help him clear his mind. If the hands holding the yunomi will stop shaking, that is.

“Wanna share your burdens, Shinazugawa?”, Tengen’s sarcastic pitch makes a vein on his temple throb.

“Fuck off”.

“Uzui”, Rengoku’s admonishment is affable but firm.

“I think we should just talk about it, since he clearly won’t”, the giant idiot sitting across from him shrugs, “did anyone besides Shinobu go on a mission with her?”.

“I did not go on a mission with her”, Kocho corrects him, patient, “I just know she didn’t want to stay in bed any longer. She let me treat her wounds but only right after it happened, I haven’t seen her in almost two months”, she catches Sanemi’s gaze as she speaks and he holds hers. Rage dissolves, it stops gripping the tissue that attaches muscle to bone and he finally feels like he can move his limbs again.

“’Kay”, Tengen clicks his tongue, “well, I tried visiting”.

“We all did”, Obanai, the only one staying despite not drinking tea, speaks quietly.

“She never comes out. Only speaks behind closed doors and it’s mostly to tell us to leave”, Mitsuri’s voice trembles.

“Tokito was the only one she came out for”, Iguro pushes, “but he doesn’t remember”.

“Shinazugawa-san”, Shinobu tilts her head to the side, “you stayed at my estate day and night, for over a week. But then… did you ever try?”.

Sanemi exhales but it comes out like a hiss.

“Why the hell would you think I didn’t-”

“When was the last time you went?”.

“Shortly after she left the butterfly estate”.

Mitsuri’s shocked gasp echoes across the quiet room.

“Two months ago?”.

Sanemi glares at her.

“Yes. I gave her space, you don’t really want someone at your door every day after shit like that happens”.

“Two months? What the fuck kinda space is that? I bet she thinks you forgot about her”, Uzui speaks with the cup pressed to his lips. Convenient, since Sanemi is getting closer and closer to knocking his teeth out.

“Shut the fuck up, Tengen”, the stern warning only makes the sound hashira grin.

“Think about it, she may be believing all she was to you was an easy relief provider…”.

“I’m fucking warning you”, Sanemi’s hand closes around the hilt of his nichirin, “another goddamn word and I’ll slit your throat open”.

Uzui’s sarcastic expression morphs into something real, something serious.

“Good. So you can still man up, after all. Fucking go talk to her”.

“That’s not your decision to make, you assho-”

“Enough”, Rengoku heaves a deep sigh as he glares at both parties, “the point is, we’re all worried. And we all care. If despite what she went through she can still honor her oath as a pillar, I believe we owe it to her to keep trying. She’s my comrade and my friend, I won’t leave her alone”.

Sanemi deflates in his seat, the hand clutching his blade relaxes. Kyojuro’s fiery, determined gaze makes him feel so insignificant.

“Shinazugawa-san”, when Rengoku speaks again, his tone is gentle, “please help us remind her she’s not alone. She holds deep affection for you”.

Deep affection. Well, that’s a way to describe it, he thinks.

Truth is, Sanemi doesn’t know what you actually feel for him. Hell, he doesn’t know what he feels half of the time. When he refused to leave the butterly estate as long as you lied there unconscius and bloodied, he remembers feeling dread. When was the last time he got scared, felt actual fear? He’s afraid every time Genya leaves for a mission, holds his breath and refuses to release it until his brother is back. But you? You’re a pillar. He can’t be scared for you or it’ll mess with his head, it’ll remind him that their talent and power can both succumb to destiny far too easily. Their lives are always tied to the fragile thread of luck and yours almost, almost got severed.

He wonders if you felt the same panic when he was the one injured, that time he almost didn’t make it. Sanemi remembers the way you failed to control your breathing, the tenderness enveloping his heart at the sight of your shaky hands and rain-soaked hair. Through gritted teeth you admitted how scared you got, how worried. You’re brave. He isn’t. Once he knew you’d make it, Sanemi left. He paid you one visit, then disappeared with the excuse of wanting to give you time to recover.

He couldn’t have anticipated this, your stubborn disappearance. Time went on and despite the anxiety gripping his heart day and night, he convinced himself you were fine. He told himself you didn’t need him. He waited for your friends to make you better, to help you bring your usual self back. But you just resisted and pushed everyone away and Sanemi doesn’t think he’d make a difference anymore because why would he? You spent a few nights in his futon and that was it. Why would you need him of all people to talk some sense into that obstinate head of yours?

Dwelling on all this, using the excuse of being annoyed at how infuriating you’re being, is far easier than admitting the truth. Concern is eating away at his sanity and, hell, he misses you. He’s scared to face what that fight did to you, how different you are now. Gods know how his trauma changed him.

“Sanemi”, Iguro gently bumps his shoulder against his, “let’s go together”.

“No”, he gets up, tea left unfinished and cold in his cup, “I’ll go alone”.

It only starts raining once he arrives at your estate but he still finds it ironic.

There’s no one around and the place looks barely inhabited: he has faint memories of your lively messiness, teacups and books and snacks everywhere, especially when you had guests. You liked having guests. Mostly from the corps but also Shinobu’s girls, villagers, other pillars. Genya. You’d ask them to come over and you’d make tea for them, cook, sometimes a bottle of sake would be passed around (especially if Tengen or his wives were present).

Sanemi never came by a lot, he’d pay brief visits from time to time, mainly to check on his brother or take a tipsy Obanai home. You were the one always passing by his estate. You’d ask him to be your sparring partner, you’d drop by to leave some homemade ohagi, you’d let him undress you at night. You liked when he was gentle and he liked when you were vulnerable, none of the usual burning quips you’d exchange once the moon would go down. You’d find release in something other than banter and then wake up to a new day of pretending neither of you cared about the other enough to address whatever feelings were tied to something that was supposed to be easy. Uncomplicated.

Something that wasn’t supposed to make Sanemi think of you at night, itch to kiss you, have your fingers gently run through his hair. He wasn’t supposed to be wondering where you were, how you were, when on a mission. He definitely wasn’t supposed to ask his master to pair him up with you, not while being fully aware of how willing he’d be to sacrifice his life to keep you out of harm’s way.

You’d look at him in a way that made dangerous thoughts take shape in his mind, you’d make him feel like more than what he was willing to be. Thoughtful, tender, hopeful. You’d articulate his name like no one else, make it sound special, like a melody.

Oh, Sanemi.

Sanemi, promise me you’ll be careful.

Sanemi!

Sa-ne-mi.

Shinazugawa is your usual go to but if you’re worried, if you’re scared, if he makes you exceptionally mad or provides the pleasure you’re seeking, it’s always Sanemi.

You make him want to give you everything, more than relief, more than a life where each day of being alive feels like a luxury.

“It’s me”, he gruffly announces himself, listens to the way his voice echoes across the empty entrance.

Sanemi gingerly shuffles to the shoji doors of your bedroom and sits on his heels once more, hands closed on his knees. He knows you’re there, he knows you can hear him. He hopes his absence didn’t weigh too heavy, although with all the shit you’re going through he sincerely doubts you spared him a single thought.

“We had a meeting today. I guess you already know, your crow was there”, Sanemi takes a deep breath, “you’ve been going on missions. Yet you refuse to be seen”.

A statement. Where is he even going with that? He doesn’t have a speech ready, words never come easily to him and anxiety makes his rough edges even sharper.

“Everyone’s worried about you, even that asshole Tengen lectured me. So I’m here. You can’t live in that room forever, come out”.

He could very well open the doors himself, barge in, but he wouldn’t dare. He may be crass with words but he’s still respectful of your boundaries.

“Oi, did you hear me? I said, come out. Hiding won’t solve shit, you should know better”.

Sanemi waits for a few seconds. Nothing, besides the drumming of the torrential rain against your roof. He groans.

“Can you fucking at least say something? Tap on the goddamn floor, one tap yes, two taps no?”, he raises his voice, “are you even listening to me?”.

He pauses again, muscles tense. Right as he begins to ponder about whether he should break through the stupid doors after all, he hears a faint thump. And then two more.

The sudden uptick in his heartbeat is nothing short of pathetic.

“Three…? What does that mean?”.

“Go away”.

It fills his lungs with relief, the way your voice sounds the same. He hasn’t heard it in two months, it’s a little hoarse, but it’s you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Come out”.

“Fuck off”.

The corners of his mouth relax into a soft smile.

“Tell that to my face, coward”.

“You can tell Uzui you fulfilled your bothersome duty. Now leave”.

Sanemi sharply inhales through his nose. Yeah, he should’ve guessed that’d be the one thing you’d fixate on.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot”.

And by the way, when did you even start addressing that dumbass so casually?

It’s silent again, which makes one of his brows twitch.

“Oi. Stop being stupid, I’m serious”.

No sign of life. Fucking hell.

Sanemi shuts his eyes, relaxes his shoulders. He thinks of what it must’ve been like for the past months, being so lonely. You never enjoyed being on your own, one time you confessed that being with other people helped keep your fears at bay. He remembers your hushed voice, tender, vulnerable, and how he pulled you closer in the darkness of his bedroom.

You must’ve hurt a lot. Clumsily treated wounds that only a professional like Shinobu should’ve checked, probably spent entire nights wide awake, nightmares chasing you whenever your body would give out to exhaustion. A self-imposed seclusion that added on to your physical pain and yet you still refused to abandon your duty as a pillar.

“I should’ve been here”, he says, voice low, barely a murmur, “I should’ve checked on you every day. I told myself I was giving you space but it was a bunch of bullshit. I just wasn’t brave enough to come”, he pauses to clear his throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you needed me, or maybe you did, either way I need to know you’re okay. Whether you come out or not, I’ll be here. I’ll come every chance I get, hell, maybe I won’t leave until my next mission. Just talk to me, from time to time. Or tap on the floor again. Whatever you want”.

Sanemi attempts to swallow the lump in his throat before speaking again.

“Who gives a shit about Tengen? I’m not here for him. You know why I’m here, despite how bad I am at showing it”.

He listens to his own breathing in the quiet of your house, relaxes the fingers that were once again gripping the fabric of his pants. Part of him is comforted by the fact that you’re fine enough to go on missions but it’s a comfort that pales before the sense of guilt he feels for having lost so much time. Perhaps it’s presumptuous to believe you needed him in the first place but he realizes it hardly matters now. He failed to remind you he’d be there for you, whether you wanted someone to be there for you or not. All he had to do was show up and he refused to do that. His life is such a broken record of wrong choices, it makes him sick.

And then, suddenly, incredibly, the shoji doors of your bedroom slide open. He looks up but doesn’t get the chance to meet your gaze because you don’t linger there, but instead walk to the low table you always enjoyed having so many people sitting around. Sanemi observes the way you carefully sit on your heels and, even if you never turn to look at him, he understands it’s a quiet invitation. His heart is beating loud in his ears when he rises from the tatami floor, legs once again unstable as he shuffles to where you’re sitting. He doesn’t sit across from you, as he usually would. Instead, he stays close enough for his thigh to be almost pressed against yours.

“Hi”, you say, and it sounds so delicate, so frail, it breaks his heart.

“Hi”, he says back, quiet and hopeful. Sanemi meets your gaze, through the one eye that is not covered in bandages the way your neck, half your face, arms are. Your yukata is loose enough for him to see that your chest is wrapped in bandages as well.

“Are those still necessary?”, he asks, well aware of what the real answer is.

You shake your head no.

“Can I see?”, Sanemi’s voice isn’t but a murmur, “don’t hide from me”.

“There’s nothing to see. I look hideous”, you’re quiet too, left eye uncharacteristically dull.

“Don’t say that”.

“It’s true. I can’t look at myself anymore”.

His chest aches. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time but he remembers it with shattering clarity. Events taking his sense of self away from him, the inability to recognize his reflection in the mirror. A Sanemi Shinazugawa that belonged to the past and couldn’t be brought back no matter how hard he tried.

“Let me?”, he lightly grazes one of the bandages covering your wrist. It’s a plea, more than a request.

Your gaze shifts to him and somehow softens. You wish to extend the moment in time in which Sanemi is looking at you like this because it will hardly ever happen again.

With a small nod, you give him permission and his heart swells. This isn’t something you’d trust just anyone with, the fact that you’re willing to let him of all people see you, actually see you, carries the most special meaning in the world. His world, at least.

He’s the most gentle he’s ever been as he carefully unwraps the bandages. Sanemi can’t help the way his jaw tenses at every scar he uncovers: they’re everywhere. You’re covered in them. Some are part of the natural healing process after your skin was cut so deeply, so many times, others are the result of poorly stitched wounds you certainly handled yourself.

You tremble underneath his touch and he so badly wants to take your hand, kiss each knuckle to calm you. To ground you. To promise that it’s okay, it really is.

Still, Sanemi is not prepared for the sight of your lost right eye. It’s still open but with an unnatural, opaque milkiness to the pupil and iris. This side of your face has been clearly lacerated as well, one particular scar turning the corner of your lips slightly downwards.

You’re looking at him with a gaze that is daring, incandescent with quivering dignity. He knows what you’re thinking: I told you, happy now? I was right. Hideous. Now you can see it too.

“Can I touch you?”.

“No”, you whisper.

Sanemi exhales slowly when you start crying. You never allowed him to see you cry, he’d sometimes hear faint sobs when you’d hide at the butterfly estate, after a mission or before a meeting, but this is the first time he’s witnessing your pain in such a raw way.

“I’m so ashamed”, you hiccup, take your face in your shaky hands, “so many of our comrades are dead, innocent people are killed every day. Fuck, maybe soon I’ll be dead too. And this is what I’m upset about, my appearance. But I can’t help it, you know? I tried. I really tried. It’s just so hard, I look like a monster”.

“Is that what you see when you look at me?”.

Your head snaps up and the sight of your cheeks, wet with fresh tears, makes his stomach clench.

“Of course not. It’s different!”.

“How is it different?”.

You sniffle, then gesture vaguely with one hand.

“You’re a man. Your scars are proof of how strong you are, how valiant. On me? They’re just a reminder of my weakness. They’re ugly, I’m ugly. Something ruined. I wish they could’ve just killed me that day, I wish Gyomei didn’t-”

“Don’t fucking say that”, Sanemi hears his own voice vibrate with rage, “you’re not weak and if anyone ever dares imply that I’ll stick my blade through their neck. You’re strong and brave and a survivor. We all are. I’m looking at you right now and I just see you. I’m so fucking relieved, actually, because I still get to see you. Not a thing and definitely not a ruined thing. You’re still you and you’re still here and you’re allowed to feel shitty about it but what the hell. I’m here too and I won’t let you face this alone”.

He leans in closer when you don’t reply and refuse to meet his eyes, shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you keep crying.

“Can I touch you?”, Sanemi asks again, slowly, carefully, but more determined.

Instead of replying, you place you head on his shoulder and nuzzle further into his neck when he wraps his arms around you with a relieved sigh.

Sanemi lets you shake, lets you wet his haori and grip it like your life depends on it. He whispers sweet reassurances in your ear, kisses the crown of your head, does everything in his power to stop himself from crying with you. It’s surprisingly hard, witnessing one of the most resilient fighters he’s ever met, crumble in his arms. While his inability to do anything to make it better is what makes it so difficult, what really surprises him to the point of almost choking on his own tears is the fondness he’s able to hold you, reassure you with.

Sanemi can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be the old version of him so openly, the one he thought he had successfully buried with his mother and siblings so long ago. He didn’t know it still existed fiercely enough to manifest in broad, knowing daylight but of course you’d be the one he’d be willing to lay it bare for. He’d give you every part of himself, so long as you asked.

The pads of his fingers delicately skim across your arm under the sleeve of your yukata, then caress your wrist, rise to the side of your neck. The fibrous tissue feels familiar and foreign under his touch, it’s different than his own, more painful.

The agony etched across your beautiful features doesn’t subside, not even when he carefully traces your jaw with his thumb as he delicately holds you. He hates that this happened to you. Selfishly, he hates it. Even if he knows slayers, pillars, masters, aren’t above suffering or grief. Why would they be? They’re not special. They’re not better than any civilian. And yet, Sanemi’s rage for what happened to you could burn down villages.

“I wish it was me”, he says and he means it. He doesn’t say the worse thing, doesn’t voice the terrible thought actually swirling in his furious mind.

I wish it was someone else. Anyone but you.

You lean into his touch and idly shake your head.

“You’re already handsome enough. Gotta stop at some point”.

Sanemi can’t bring himself to chuckle as he usually would, he barely manages to let out a huff of air through his nose. But you cracked a joke and it’s enough to momentarily placate the enraged beast floundering in his chest.

“Come stay at my estate”, his thumbs skate over the skin underneath your eyes to brush off what wetness remains, “just for a while. I’ll send away all the helpers”.

You’re similar to him in more ways than he’d like you to be and Sanemi knows you’ll hesitate. Because you don’t remember how to let someone take care of you.

“I can’t”. 

“Yes, you can”.

“What difference would it make?”, you chuckle bitterly, “I’ll still look disgusting, whether at my estate or yours”.

Sanemi gently bumps his forehead against yours.

“I’ll let you plant those flowers you always ramble about, the ones that’d look good by the gate or whatever”.

“Damask roses?”, you attempt a smile and he swears his lungs start expanding once more as they get their fill of oxygen.

“Whatever you want”, he softly runs his index finger over the bridge of your nose, “we’ll have breakfast together, I’ll run you baths. I’ll wait for you to come back from missions and you’ll wait for me. Does that sound so bad?”.

You hum as he keeps exploring your face with gentle touches. You let him. He’s too much of a coward to just kiss you but hopes his hands, the pads of his fingers, are getting the message across. You could never look disgusting. You’re everything I want to look at, the one person I hope to always see. I’m so lucky I still get to see you.

“I’ll come”, you whisper, “if Genya comes too”.

Sanemi heaves a deep sigh. Gods forbid you stop thinking about other people’s feelings even for a moment.

“Pushing it”.

“You’re actually denying me right now, Sanemi?”.

Ah, there it is. The premise of every single one of his downfalls.

“Genya can visit. He can come but he won’t stay”.

You scoff.

“Fine”.

“Good”.

He guides you to him once again, with a hand that cradles the back of your neck. Sanemi rests his chin on your head as he strokes your hair and you sigh softly, the puff of warm air so close to his throat.

“Shinazugawa accepting guests. I feel pretty special”, you murmur, humorless.

“Don’t let it go to your head, I just like your ohagi”.

“Really?”, you click your tongue, “I’ll spit in my next ones, then”.

He smirks.

“Bold of you to assume that would deter me from eating them”.

There’s a pause, one he doesn’t give much meaning to as he keeps absentmindedly stroking your hair. But then he feels it, the way you tense against him and under his touch. When you pull back to fix him with an uncertain look, he fears he already said something wrong.

“What?”, it comes out gruff, watchful.

You hesitate for a second, then let your shoulders drop.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if…”, another pause, then you take a deep breath, “it’s okay if you find someone else. For relief, I mean. Don’t feel pressured to… like, it wouldn’t make me upset or anything. You can bring them to your estate too, I’ll just find myself somewhere else to be for a while, it’s-”

Sanemi gently but firmly presses his thumb to your mouth, one hand cradling your jaw again and tilting your head up, to make sure you look at him.

“I already told you”, he lets his thumb follow the curve of you bottom lip, “to stop being a fucking idiot”.

You shake your head.

“And I’m asking you to consider that you’re a normal man with normal needs”.

“I am. I need you to shut up”.

“You don’t understand. I might not be able to let someone see me, touch me like that, ever again. Not even you”, you lean forward to press your forehead against his shoulder because there’s only so much courage you can rely on while facing that violet gaze, especially when filled to the brim with weird adoration you can’t interpret the right way.

“I don’t care”, he murmurs. Then, much softer than you’d expect, “we go beyond that”.

It’s weird, hearing him say that. It makes your heart flutter against against your ribs because in no way you wished to imply you are important enough that he’d have to consider your feelings or whatever, in case he wanted to seek relief elsewhere. It’s his right to, as it’d be your right to.

The last thing you want is for him of all people to hold back out of pity. You can’t imagine any man finding you desirable anymore, anyway. It’s pretty easy to come to terms with that. But you wouldn’t be able to tolerate the idea of Sanemi depriving himself of a normal life, whatever normal would look like for you all anyway, because of poor, debilitated you.

“It’s not fair, being stuck with me. Don’t do that to yourself”, you whisper into the fabric of his haori. He scoffs.

“You know what’s not fair? How much of a dumbass you’re being”.

You pull back with a scowl.

“I’m serious, Sanemi”.

“Well, stop that”, he lightly flicks the portion of your forehead that is not covered in scars, “I’m not stuck. I’m where I want to be”.

He then tilts his head to the side, as if to consider something he failed to bring up until now. “What do you want?”.

You blink.

“What?”.

“Yeah. You run that mouth a lot about what I should want but what do you want?”.

In any other universe, this entire conversation wouldn’t exist. It probably wouldn’t have existed in this universe either, if not for you getting almost killed by a hoard of demons. He would’ve stayed the man you share a few of your nights with from time to time, when neither of you can keep pretending want and need and mutual attraction aren’t about to claw their way out of your chests. He would’ve stayed your comrade and the one man you’d trust your heart with, as long as he never finds out.

But now? You’re not sure what this is. You don’t know how to trust anything ever again.

“I want to know”, you murmur, “that you’re not moved by compassion. I want to know that you’re still you and whether I can ever be me again”.

Sanemi’s gaze softens. He’s finally able to take one of your hands but, instead of bringing it to his lips, he presses the palm against his chest. The skin feels warm under your palm.

“I am me and I will do everything I can to help you find you again. And if we never do, that’s fine. There’s time to get adjusted to the new you who, by the way, is still one hell of a fighter. Which is what I always liked in the first place”, he clicks his tongue, “that’s what moves me”.

There’s one thing Sanemi doesn’t say, which is that maybe the journey of helping you find yourself again will also help him find part of himself too. Whatever that could mean.

“Okay”, you say and sound so tired, completely spent when you let yourself rest in his arms again. You don’t have any energy left to question or resist. You’ll pack your bag, the same one you used so many times on missions with either Sanemi or the other pillars, spend some time in the quiet of his estate. You’ll sit in his garden and maybe drink tea on the engawa. You’ll have to find out if you’ll be able to allow him to get close, to take care of you the way you took care of him when he allowed you to get close too.

Sanemi once again wishes for a world where his sole purpose could be to keep you and what’s left of his family safe. He wishes he didn’t have to deny himself tenderness and affection, relentlessly push away the idea of naming whatever it is he feels for you. Whatever has been persistently pulling him in from day one, like a tide that goes out only to go in again, a current he can’t fight and isn’t entirely sure how to navigate.

But it’s fine this way too. Because he’s still him and you’re still you.

“Okay”, he agrees.

[notatzimisce]

This is one of the reasons we think whatever I have going on is probably pure-neurological, and probably a different brain disease than what's plaguing most depressed people -- there isn't actually a thought pattern underlying it. For me, it was always more like being mind controlled. Or even like being in physical pain. Like there was something external to my thought processes making me miserable against my will, and I didn't understand why. I'd introspect and figure out what I was ruminating on (if anything -- often nothing whatsoever) and try to talk myself through it. And it almost never worked. But as soon as I started getting neurostim, talking myself through situations and feelings started working literally immediately.

This is also why therapy never helped. One time I took a therapist's suggestion to leave a note next to my bed about something good and read it when I got up. Also, if I found myself starting to ruminate, I should immediately think about something else. This made perfect sense for derailing bad thought-patterns, so I tried it.

On iirc the second day of this strategy, I felt a bad mood coming on from the moment I woke up. I read my nice note and successfully shut down the beginnings of miserable thoughts and tried going about my day, and it just didn't work. It felt like some part of my brain was actively fighting me to try to find and latch onto something, literally anything it could despair spiral about, and when I discarded one thing it'd look for something else.

It took hours for me to slip up and fall into it, but even until that point, there was this vague, nasty feeling of malaise hanging over everything and it just wouldn't go away. It felt like from the moment I woke up, there was a storm brewing inside my head. It felt like there was something dark on the horizon slowly sweeping in, and sooner or later it was going to break.

There was another time I thought I should figure out what it'd take to make me happy, and if I did that, surely I would identify some obvious problems I needed to take care of. The result of that thought experiment was the realization that in the wildest fantasy world I could imagine, where nobody ever had to suffer again and everybody had everything they want forever somehow, I still wouldn't be happy, for no reason whatsoever. It just seemed like I was incapable of it, physically.

Presumably there's an unknown amount of other depressed people who also have whatever this particular neurological problem is, but it's really hard to say how many when we don't yet know what it is or how to test for it. I think the study I'm in judges in large part by what kind of response someone has to failed ECT, because when they were screening me they wanted me to get really specific about that.

Rhetoric against the depressive mindset is usually tedious saccharine opium bullshit but unfortunately this makes bearers of the depressive mindset (among whose ranks I sometimes find myself) feel way more justified than they/we have any right to. Like...the depressive mindset is ALSO tedious and stupid. There's an urge for managing your own mind to be all carrot or all stick. It's simpler that way. But it's stupid! It doesn't work! You have to judiciously apply the carrot and the stick at the right times in the right proportions, it's a huge pain in the ass

[fabbyf1]

besties,

i was debating on whether to share this or not - because it's very personal and has nothing to do with this fandom - but i've always kept it real with you all, and i wanted to let you know why i'm going to be MIA for a bit.

my grandfather died unexpectedly in his sleep last night. he was pretty healthy, all things considered, so this came as a shock to all of us. on one hand, i'm glad he went peacefully and didn't have to suffer or spend ages in a hospital, but on the other hand, i wish we had some warning.

my grandparents raised me and my brother as if we were their own, and i spent more time at their house than i did in my own childhood home. i'm not close to either of my parents, but i never felt like i was alone growing up because of my wonderful grandparents.

they were there for me every time i needed them, or needed a parent, or needed someone to listen to me cry and whine about my teenage problems. they made me meals, and bought me my first guitar, and made me believe that nothing was ever out of reach. they taught me all of my life skills, gave me my sense of humor and potty mouth, and always encouraged me to do whatever i wanted to do.

my pop knew that i liked to write, and while he didn't quite understand what fanfiction was, he always asked me how my writing was going and if i had written the next great novel yet. he was always asking me how our family book was coming along (which is NOT being written) and liked to joke that i should title it "My Grandmother: A Pain In The Ass" just to rile my grandma up.

and it worked, every single time.

i don't ever plan on writing a book about his life, but we loved to talk about writing together. i'm not sure how he'd feel knowing that i wrote explicit gay fanfiction for the masses, but i'd like to think he'd get a good laugh out of it and tell me something like, "Well ain't that a fucking choice."

here's to you, pop. you wonderfully grumpy old man.

it's weird to think that my grandparents are gone now, when they had such an impact on my life. grief is weird, and sadness is weird, and i don't always know where to put it. when my grandma died a few years ago, i sat down and wrote vapor over the course of a few weeks. now... i'm not so sure what i'll do or where i'll put my grief. i guess I'll let you know when i figure it out.

for now, i'm going to be traveling home for the first time in years to say goodbye and see the house one last time before it's sold. i know a lot of you have sent a bunch of asks this weekend about what i'm working on, trying to inspire me to write, etc. and i wanted you to know that i wasn't ignoring you... life has just gotten in the way.

see you soon, fam.

[mustlovelou]

Bucktommy - on a place of insecurity for the kiss asks

Thank you for this ask, James! I'm sorry that it took me so long! I hope you like it and I'm sorry for any mistake! 💜💜💜

Buck lets out a heavy sigh as he slowly gets out of his jeep. It has been raining all day and his knee and leg are unhappy about it. 

He carefully goes up the front steps, his leg protesting the movement, but he pushes through, knowing that the sooner he gets inside, the sooner he will get to soak in a hot bath.

After dropping his bag by the door, kicking off his shoes, and hanging up his damp jacket, Buck heads straight for the bathroom. 

As soon as he opens the door, he stops dead in his tracks. 

The bathroom smells of lavender, the light is on but dim, soft music is playing, and Tommy sits at the edge of the tub, testing the water with his hand.

“Hi, baby,” Tommy greets him with a soft and loving smile. 

“Hi,” Buck responds, surprised. “I thought you were going with Chimney to karaoke.” 

“I cancelled,” Tommy replies, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Why?” 

Tommy sighs and turns off the water. “Because with the rain and humidity, I knew your leg was going to be bothering you.” 

“So?” Buck asks in a whisper, looking down. 

“So… Evan,” Tommy says softly, cupping his cheeks. “I wanted to be here to try to help you feel at least a bit better.” 

Buck peers at him through his eyelashes and only sees the truth in Tommy’s eyes. He’s smiling and his eyes are filled with nothing but love.

Exhaling shakily, Buck can only reply with an “Ok.” 

“Ok.” Tommy nods. “Now, come on. Let’s get you out of these clothes.” 

Tommy eases the t-shirt over Buck’s head, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder once it's gone. He unbuckles the belt with quiet care, then sinks to his knees, hands steady as he slides Buck’s jeans down and off.

Buck gazes down at him with adoration, but then he cringes when he sees his own scar. The skin is reddish, probably because he kept touching it during his shift, and it seems as if it's slightly swollen. 

Tommy’s hands run soothingly up Buck’s thighs, being careful with the scar. “Hey… after the bath, you will lie down in bed and I will massage your leg, yeah?” 

“You don’t have to…” Buck mumbles. 

“I want to,” Tommy replies. 

Buck glances at his scar, then shifts his leg away, feeling self-conscious about Tommy seeing it looking like that. 

“Don’t do that,” Tommy tells him. 

“It’s so ugly… It’s all red and irritated,” Buck says with a grimace. 

Tommy shuffles closer, his touch gentle as he cradles the leg almost reverently, and then he presses a series of soft and lingering kisses along the length of the scar. “It’s a part of you,” he murmurs tenderly, his lips against the skin of his leg, “and that makes it beautiful… just like you.” 

Tears well up in Buck’s eyes and he’s left speechless by Tommy’s love and care. 

“I-I…” 

“Come on, let’s get you inside the tub,” Tommy says, standing up with a smile. 

 “Yeah, ok,” Buck mumbles. 

Tommy helps him get inside and gives him support as he lowers his body. 

Buck sighs in relief the moment his legs are fully submerged under the hot water. 

“Good, right?” Tommy asks, chuckling. “And the best part is not even there yet.” 

With half-lidded eyes, Buck watches as Tommy grabs a bath bomb and drops it in the tub. 

“This one is supposed to help with muscle relaxation,” Tommy informs him. 

“Thank you,” Buck says. “For this… for everything… for being you.” 

“No need to thank me.” Tommy shakes his head. 

It’s Buck’s turn to shake his head at that but he doesn’t fight it. “Get in here, please.” 

“In a minute,” Tommy says, taking a few steps to the door. “I have to grab something first.” 

“Ok, hurry, though,” Buck jokes. 

“Will do!” 

Tommy returns with a steaming mug in his hands. 

���Here, I made you some peppermint tea. It’s supposed to help with sore muscles,” he says, offering the mug with a sheepish smile. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Buck breathes out. “Now, come, get in here.” 

Buck moves over to make space, and Tommy climbs in behind him, wrapping his arms around his stomach in a comforting embrace.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Buck leans back against Tommy’s chest and sips his tea.

“I love you,” Buck mumbles, almost a whisper. 

“I love you too, baby,” Tommy replies, kissing his temple. 

Buck closes his eyes and lets himself relax, the tension melting from his body. With Tommy’s arms and legs curled around him, he feels completely safe and loved like never before.

[thirteenheavens]

Zombie Apocalypse || Kim Mingyu

Concepts and warnings: zombie universe similar to train to busan so has blood warnings etc

Notes: guys I’m so happy with this fic it took so long to finish I love concepts like this thank you so so much

You, Mingyu, and your son board the train, excited for your weekend getaway. Your son is bouncing with excitement in his seat, chattering away about all the fun things he's going to do.

"I can't wait to see the mountains, Daddy!" he says, looking out the window as the train starts to move. "And the waterfall too!" Mingyu smiles at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "We'll see all of that and more, buddy. Mommy and I have planned the whole trip." You lean against Mingyu's shoulder, feeling content as the scenery rushes by outside. The train ride is peaceful, with the sound of your son's chatter filling the air.

As the hours pass, you start to feel a strange tension in the air. Other passengers seem unusually restless, checking their phones more often than usual. But you chalk it up to typical train anxiety and continue enjoying your family time. Suddenly, the train comes to a screeching halt, and you hear shouting and commotion outside. Your heart starts racing as people rush past your carriages, panic evident on their faces.

Mingyu stands up, his protective instincts kicking in. "Stay here with Jin-Woo," he says firmly. "I'm going to see what's going on." You grab Mingyu's arm, your eyes wide with concern. "Be careful, please. What's happening out there?"

Mingyu looks down at you, his expression serious. "I don't know yet. But I have a bad feeling about this. Just stay in our compartment and keep Jin-Woo safe." He leans down to kiss your forehead before hurrying out of the carriage, disappearing into the chaos outside. Your heart pounds in your chest as you pull Jin-Woo closer to you, wrapping your arms around him protectively.

You hear more shouts and screams from outside, and the tension in the air grows thicker. Something is definitely wrong, and you can't shake the feeling that this trip has just taken a dangerous turn. You focus all your attention on Jin-Woo, trying to keep him calm and distracted from the chaos outside.

"Hey sweetie, do you want to play a game?" you ask, forcing a smile onto your face. "We can play I Spy, or we can make up stories about the people we see." Jin-Woo looks up at you, his eyes filled with confusion and fear. "Mommy, where's Daddy?" he asks, his lower lip trembling. You pull him into your lap, holding him close as you try to think of something to say. "Daddy just had to go check on something. He'll be back soon, I promise."

As you try to comfort your son, you hear the sound of gunshots and screaming getting louder and closer. Your heart races faster as you wonder where Mingyu is and what's happening outside. You hold Jin-Woo tightly on your lap, feeling his small body trembling against you. The gunshots and screams continue, and you can hear what sounds like a stampede of people rushing past your compartment.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Jin-Woo whimpers, burying his face in your chest. You stroke his hair soothingly, trying to stay calm for his sake. "I know, baby. But I'm here with you. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Suddenly, the compartment door bursts open and a group of disheveled passengers rush in. They look frantic and wild-eyed, clearly terrified of something. One of them spots you and Jin-Woo and points a shaky finger at you. "There's still people in here!" he yells. "We have to get out!"

Your voice trembles as you speak, your fear evident in every word. "Please, we're not going anywhere. We're just trying to stay safe." The group of passengers doesn't seem to hear you or care. They start pulling at your arm, trying to drag you and Jin-Woo out of the compartment.

"You have to come with us!" one of them insists, his grip tightening painfully around your wrist. "It's not safe here!" Jin-Woo starts crying in earnest now, his small body shaking with sobs. You try to shield him with your body, feeling desperate and trapped.

You hold Jin-Woo close, rocking him back and forth as you whisper soothing words in his ear. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Mommy's got you. Just keep breathing." But the terrified passengers are getting more agitated, their panic making them irrational. One of them grabs Jin-Woo by the arm, trying to pull him away from you.

"Stop!" you scream, trying to protect your son. "Leave him alone!" Just as you're about to lose hope, Mingyu appears in the doorway, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. "Get your hands off my family!" he roars, pushing the passengers away from you and Jin-Woo.

He immediately scoops you both up in his arms, shielding you from the panicked group. "What's going on here?" he demands, his voice cold and furious. The passengers start stuttering and backing away, finally realizing that they've crossed a line. One of them points shakily at the windows.

"There are... things outside," he manages to say, his voice trembling. "Zombies." Mingyu's eyes widen in disbelief, but he quickly regains his composure. "Zombies?" he repeats, his grip on you and Jin-Woo tightening protectively. He looks around at the compartment, taking in the chaos and destruction. "We need to get out of here, now," he says firmly, starting to move towards the exit. "Stay close to me."

"Mingyu, wait," you say urgently, grabbing his arm. "What's happening out there? Are they really zombies?" Mingyu turns to you, his expression grim. "I don't know how it's possible, but it looks like the passengers are telling the truth. There are people attacking others, biting them and spreading some kind of infection."

He looks around at the panicked passengers, his jaw clenched. "We need to find a safe place to hide until we can figure out what's going on and how to stop it." Mingyu nods decisively. "Let's follow them to the last carriage," he says, leading you and Jin-Woo through the chaotic train.

The passengers are already rushing towards the last carriage, pushing and shoving to get inside. Mingyu keeps a firm grip on you and Jin-Woo, making sure you don't get separated in the crowd. As you approach the last carriage, you see a group of zombies stumbling towards you from the other end of the train. Their eyes are blank and lifeless, their mouths stained with blood.

The passengers scream in terror and pile into the last carriage, frantically trying to get the door closed. Mingyu helps them barricade the door, pushing a heavy metal cabinet against it just in time to keep the zombies out. Mingyu quickly ties his tie around the door handles, creating a makeshift lock. The sound of the zombies pounding against the door echoes through the carriage, but the barricade holds for now.

"That should keep them out for a while," he says, his voice tense. "But we need to come up with a better plan." The other passengers are huddled in a corner, their faces pale and frightened. Some are crying, others are whispering prayers under their breath.

You hold Jin-Woo close, grateful that you're all safe for now, but knowing that this is far from over. The train continues to rattle and shake as it moves towards an uncertain destination, the sound of zombies outside growing fainter but never disappearing completely. You cradle Jin-Woo in your arms, rocking him gently as he clings to you. He's exhausted and scared, but you can feel his small body starting to relax slightly now that he's safe with you and Mingyu.

Mingyu sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around both of you protectively. "We'll get through this," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise." Despite the chaos and danger outside, you feel a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. The other passengers whisper amongst themselves, occasionally casting worried glances in your direction.

You sit in silence, holding Jin-Woo and Mingyu, lost in your thoughts. Just a few hours ago, you were excited for this trip, full of hope and anticipation for the adventures ahead. Now, everything has changed so drastically. You can't help but wonder how this nightmare started - how normal people could suddenly turn into monsters. And what could possibly be waiting for you at the end of this train ride?

Mingyu seems to sense your unease and pulls you closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his voice low and comforting. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together." The door starts rattling and shaking as the zombies outside grow more agitated. Their groans and snarls fill the air, making your skin crawl with fear.

Mingyu tenses beside you, his grip on you and Jin-Woo tightening protectively. "They're getting stronger," he says through gritted teeth. "We need to find another way out." The other passengers start panicking again, shouting and arguing over what to do next. But you know that this moment requires calmness and quick thinking, not panic.

"Mingyu," you say quietly, looking up at him. "Do you see anything we can use to reinforce the door?" Mingyu shakes his head grimly, scanning the carriage for anything useful. "There's nothing in here except broken furniture and luggage," he says, frustration evident in his voice. The banging on the door gets louder, and you can hear the metal creaking under the pressure. Jin-Woo starts whimpering again, sensing the danger.

"We're running out of time," Mingyu mutters, his eyes darting towards the emergency hatch on the ceiling. "If we don't get out of here soon..." Mingyu scoops up Jin-Woo and grabs your hand, leading you towards the emergency hatch. The other passengers are shouting and pleading with you not to leave, but you know you have no other choice.

He quickly opens the hatch, revealing a ladder leading up to the roof of the carriage. "You first," he says urgently, pushing you towards it. "I'll follow with Jin-Woo." The zombies continue their assault on the door, their growls growing louder and more desperate. Mingyu climbs up after you, holding Jin-Woo tightly against his chest.

As you reach the roof, the cold night air hits your face, and you realize that you're now trapped between two terrifying choices - stay and face certain death, or risk the unknown by running along the top of the train. You help Mingyu climb onto the roof, holding onto Jin-Woo's hand tightly. The wind whips around you as you stand on the metal surface, the ground rushing by beneath your feet.

Mingyu glances down at the zombies, who are now spilling out of the carriage below. "We need to move," he says firmly, starting to walk carefully along the top of the train. You follow him closely, trying to stay balanced while also shielding Jin-Woo from the cold and danger. The wind is deafening up here, and every jolt of the train makes your heart leap into your throat.

"Where are we going?" you shout over the noise, your voice trembling with fear. "There's nowhere to go!" Mingyu looks ahead, where you can see the train approaching a station in the distance. "We'll jump onto the platform as soon as we're close enough," he explains, his eyes scanning the tracks ahead. The wind picks up even more, making it difficult to see or hear anything. Jin-Woo clings to you tightly, his face buried in your chest as he trembles with fear.

"Can you make the jump?" Mingyu asks, his gaze fixed on you with concern. "It's going to be dangerous, but it's our only chance." Mingyu moves ahead, his movements careful and precise as he makes his way towards the edge of the train. "I'll clear the way," he calls back to you. "Stay close behind me." He takes a deep breath and leaps off the train, landing safely on the platform below. The station is eerily quiet and empty, with no sign of other passengers or staff.

"Your turn!" he shouts, holding his arms out to catch you and Jin-Woo. You lift Jin-Woo into Mingyu's arms, your heart pounding as you watch him pass him down. The train rattles and shakes beneath your feet, making it harder to maintain your balance.

"Hold on tight to Daddy," you tell Jin-Woo, your voice cracking with emotion. "I'll be right behind you." "You can do it, buddy. Just jump and I'll catch you." Mingyu calls from the platform. As Jin-Woo jumps into Mingyu's arms, you feel a surge of pride and love for both of them. Mingyu lands safely on the platform with Jin-Woo, holding him tight against his chest.

"Now it's your turn," he calls up to you, his voice steady and reassuring. You take a deep breath and back up to the other end of the train, preparing to make the leap. The gap between the train and the platform seems wider than before, and you can hear the zombies still banging on the door behind you. You jump off the train, your heart racing with adrenaline. But as you reach for the platform, your hand lands on a jagged piece of broken glass.

A sharp pain shoots through your palm as the glass slices into your skin. You cry out in pain, but manage to keep your grip on the edge of the platform. Mingyu's eyes widen in alarm as he sees the blood running down your arm. "Y-N! Are you okay?" he calls up, his voice filled with worry.

The zombies in the train car below hear your scream and start to grow more agitated, banging even harder on the door. You look down at Mingyu, trying to mask your pain and keep him from worrying even more. Blood continues to trickle down your arm, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"I'm fine," you whisper, gritting your teeth against the throbbing pain in your hand. "Just help me up." Mingyu carefully adjusts Jin-Woo in his arms and reaches up towards you, his face a mix of concern and determination. "Hold on, I've got you," he says firmly.

Mingyu helps you down from the platform, being careful not to jostle your injured hand too much. Then he grabs your other hand and starts running through the deserted train station. Jin-Woo is crying again, scared by the sight of your blood and the unfamiliar surroundings. You try to keep up with Mingyu's pace, but your hand is throbbing and you can feel the blood seeping through your clothes.

"We need to find a safe place to hide and clean up that cut," Mingyu says as you reach the exit of the station. "The city is just ahead." Mingyu freezes in his tracks, his grip on your hand tightening. "There's too many of them," he whispers, horror etched on his face as he looks out at the horde of zombies blocking the exit. They're everywhere - shuffling towards you in a grotesque mass, their eyes fixed on your small group. The car that Mingyu spotted earlier is just out of reach, a symbol of safety that seems further away with every passing second.

"What do we do?" you ask, panic rising in your chest. "We can't go back into the station, and we can't fight our way through that." Mingyu quickly muffles Jin-Woo's cries with his hand, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the zombies. "Shh, baby," he whispers urgently, his voice barely audible. "Don't make a sound." The zombies continue to approach, their groans growing louder and more insistent. You can feel the tension radiating off Mingyu as he tries to keep Jin-Woo quiet while protecting you both.

"We need to find another way out," he murmurs, his eyes scanning the area desperately. "There has to be something we're missing." The toy clatters against the concrete, echoing loudly in the tense silence. The zombies turn their heads towards the noise, their attention drawn to your group. Mingyu curses under his breath, his heart racing as he sees the zombies starting to shuffle towards you more quickly. "Damn it," he mutters, pulling you and Jin-Woo closer to him. "We have to move - now!"

Jin-Woo starts to cry again, this time louder and more desperately. You can see the fear and helplessness in Mingyu's eyes as he tries to keep you both safe while keeping the zombies from getting too close. You and Mingyu sprint away from the zombies, holding Jin-Woo tightly between you. The undead creatures are gaining on you, their movements quickening as they pick up speed.

"There's a warehouse up ahead!" Mingyu shouts, pointing to a large building in the distance. "We can hide in there!"

The warehouse doors are heavy, but Mingyu starts banging on them frantically, yelling for someone to open up. "Please! Let us in!" he screams, his voice raw with desperation. Mingyu groans trying to open it a little bit only managing to open it a small amount. You rush inside the warehouse, pulling Jin-Woo in with you. The door creaks as Mingyu tries to squeeze through, but he's too broad to fit.

"I can't get through!" he yells, panic in his voice as the zombies get closer. "You have to lock it behind you!" You look back at him through the crack in the door, tears streaming down your face. "No! I won't leave you!" you cry, your heart breaking at the thought of being separated.

Mingyu's eyes are filled with tears as he struggles against the door. "I can't... I can't make it fit," he chokes out, his body pressed against the door frame. The zombies are just outside, their hands clawing at the door as they try to force their way in. You can see the fear and pain in Mingyu's eyes as he realizes this might be the last time he sees you and Jin-Woo.

"Please, just go," he begs, his voice breaking. "Take care of our son and stay alive." You scream and sob, unable to control your emotions as you cling to Jin-Woo. The zombies' growls grow louder as they press harder against the door, their decaying hands almost touching Mingyu's face. Mingyu tries to force himself through the gap one last time, his muscles straining against the metal frame. "I love you," he whispers, his voice filled with heartbreak and determination. "Never forget that."

You can see tears streaming down his face as he accepts his fate, knowing that he won't be able to protect you and Jin-Woo any longer. You watch helplessly as the zombies drag Mingyu away from the door, his body struggling against their grip. He looks back at you one last time, his eyes full of love and pain.

Then he screams - a raw, anguished sound that echoes through the warehouse. You cover Jin-Woo's ears as the zombies tear into him, his cries growing weaker with each passing moment. The warehouse falls silent, except for the sound of Jin-Woo's sobs and your own heart breaking into a million pieces. You collapse to the ground, holding your son tightly as you mourn the loss of his father and your own broken heart.

You sit on the cold warehouse floor, your body numb and your mind reeling from what you just witnessed. Jin-Woo cries against your chest, his tiny body trembling with fear and grief. Time seems to stand still as you hold him, your own tears flowing silently down your cheeks. The reality of Mingyu's death settles over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating you with its weight.

You rock back and forth slowly, trying to comfort both yourself and Jin-Woo as you struggle to process the horrific events that have just unfolded. As you sit there, memories of happier times flood your mind. Memories of your wedding day - Mingyu smiling at you as he slid the ring onto your finger, the joy on his face as you became husband and wife.

Then there are memories of giving birth to Jin-Woo, the way Mingyu held your hand through the pain, the look of awe and wonder on his face as he first held his son. These memories mix with the present, creating a bittersweet agony that tears at your heart. You hold Jin-Woo closer, feeling both the love you have for him and the gaping hole left by Mingyu's absence.

Jin-Woo's small voice breaks through your thoughts, and he looks up at you with hopeful eyes. "Maybe Daddy will come back?" he whispers, his voice shaking. Your heart aches at his innocent words, and you want to tell him that it's impossible, that you both saw what happened. But you can't bring yourself to shatter his hopes completely.

"Maybe," you whisper back, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe he'll find a way."

[thetoddlertimes]

"Ollie, baby, why are you hiding?" My wife calls out as she drifts through the house, trying to find me.

I crouch in a corner behind a door, my diaper swaying heavily between my legs. It's nearly full to bursting with the mess I just made.

I close my eyes in fear, hoping my wife won't find me like this. I know, deep in my bones, she'll be upset to find me this way, wearing my own mess strapped to my waist, even though she is the one who diapered me this morning.

I jump and fall onto my padded tush in surprise as the door I am hiding behind swings open in front of me.

My wife--my mommy--crouches down next to me as she talks in a sing song voice.

"Here's my little man! Why are you hiding from me?"

She sniffs the air.

"Oh, is my cutie little patootie embarrassed that he made a present for Mommy?"

My cheeks burn in embarrassment as I feel a finger under my chin, lifting it gently. I look into Mommy's loving eyes as tears start to roll down my cheek.

"Are you mad, Mommy? That I made a mess? I'm so sorry!"

My wife gives me a soft kiss and wraps me in her arms.

"Oh, sweet pea, how could I ever be mad at you for doing what a baby does? Let me show you how much I appreciate your little messes."

I let her help me up and guide me to the nursery. I sit on the edge of my crib, grimacing as my weight settles into my ick, while I watch my wife grab something from a drawer. My eyes grow wide as she walks towards me, magic wand in hand.

"Spread your legs, Ollie. Mommy's going to teach you to love making stinkies."

Pleasure pulses through my body, mixing with my embarrassment as my wife brings me to orgasm again and again and again.

"Mommy... Please... Mm.... Stop..." I moan as I cum yet again. "I love... I love my messy diapers," I relent.

She pulls the wand away from me, caressing my cheek as she speaks.

"Good boy, now, let's get you changed. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll make me another present, and I'll have to teach you this lesson again."

I collapse into her, wrapping her in my arms as I catch my breath, not certain whether I want to be Mommy's student again so soon or not.

[aangelinakii]

PERFECT FACE.

— scars are just surface.

summary : jason, littered with scars, has felt self-conscious of himself ever since he was resurrected. you're here to keep him grounded.

note : this is based off a passage i saw on pinterest, which is the passage of a real book, so i'll include that right at the end so everybody knows i'm not claiming ownership over it bleh :P

potential tw : mention of cuts and scars mentioned in detail, but not sh just general injuries and ailments

dark oil caught under his short nails, jason scrubbed and scrubbed until the soap foamed and stripped his skin of the roughness of the night before; he'd never come home so exhausted, barely kicking off his boots and removing his red helmet before tumbling into bed beside you.

twisting the metal handle on the tap, water came gushing out the faucet, and he continued to scrub at the grime he'd left, seeping into the lines on his palm.

jason wasn't one to wake up late, but when he only found his way back home at four this morning, when the pitch sky was bleeding blue, maybe he could forgive himself this once for waking up at six in the evening, the colour outside not too indifferent from the one he'd said goodnight to.

he'd heard you come back home a few minutes ago, in the time he was examining his face in the mirror.

it had been years — far too long — since he woke up, dripping from head to toe in a fluorescent green liquid, his body feeling suddenly too heavy, unsure how to hold himself upright.

by now he'd gotten used to it, how he needed to be soft with his hands, despite the sheer size of them, along with the rest of him; he needed to stay mindful of how he handles things, for the biceps that bulged beneath any t-shirt channeled the strength to knock a guy out with a single punch.

yet, he's always been considering how to behave towards others, that jason still hadn't really come to terms with how to treat himself; how to look in the mirror without a pang of nostalgia for the little boy before everything that had happened. how to look in the mirror without a pang of self-loathing forming beneath his ribs, for the scars that littered his face rendered him unrecognisable, if you took away the rambo-strong body.

behind him the handle jiggled, and the door opened, your soft footsteps entering the room, and jason leaned down to splash the cold water over his sleep-smooth face, coolness running over his tired, puffy eyes.

"good morning, mister todd," you chuckled, running a hand over his t-shirt-clad back, where you could feel the muscles stretching and moving, no doubt a few knots here and there you'd offer to tackle later on the couch.

as soon as you'd locked the door back behind you when you came home, you were in the bedroom changing into comfy, casual clothes, not wanting to stay any longer in your work attire than you had to.

"sleep well?"

the room went quiet as jason turned off the tap, and you passed him a clean face flannel from the towel rack — he gave a still-sleepy grunt as his face disappeared behind it.

with a small step forward, you brought your arms up to wrap around jason's waist, your chest coming to press against his back, chin resting right on an especially knotty spot, for jason almost flinched away.

he gave a great sigh, and your eyes fluttered closed, the side of your face turning to rest against the fabric of his top, slightly sweaty from his sleep, the natural musky scent of him filling your nostrils.

when you awoke that morning, jason was still clad in a gunpowder-ridden leather jacket and his cargo pants, ripped and torn by his hamstring on one leg. after waking yourself up a bit, you'd exerted all your energy trying to peel off the jacket and unbuckle his pants, almost tripping over his discarded boots in the meantime.

it seemed he'd kept on his t-shirt, but had pulled on a pair of linen pyjama pants since then.

as you stood with him, allowing your own stress from the work day to dissipate into atoms in the small bathroom around you, the air grew still. you knew what jason was like when he was groggy and just barely awake, but this was... different.

eyes fluttering back open, you pushed yourself up onto your toes and peered over jason's shoulder, only to find his grey-green eyes already piercing into the glass of the mirror.

it wasn't difficult to notice the blemishes along his skin, cuts and bruises bleeding into flesh all up and down his arms, scars lighter in colour against his pale olive. but you looked at this face every day — if you could sit and stare at him, and never have to sleep again, that's absolutely what you would do — and you could tell when jason had acquired some new additions.

tonight he had a small chunk from the shell of his ear missing, the skin near it pink and angry, and a still-open cut slicing through the arch of one of his brows. his nose hadn't been forgotten about, either, a cut — not as bad as the others — slicing down the side and to his nostrils.

how he gets himself into these situations, you'll never know — but jason knows you'll never ask, and you know he'll never tell.

a less-than-content sigh shuddered past your lips as you pulled away from him and stepped round to his side, eyes never leaving his in the mirror, although his own gaze was set on himself. something almost... disappointed? in himself?

"hey," you hummed, nudging his forearm carefully, noting the harsh grip on the flannel he'd dried his face with. "you seem upset, did something happen while i was out?"

it took him a minute, but jason carefully jutted his bottom lip out and vaguely shook his head.

examining his expression further, there was no doubt about it: something was up, but that was about where your detective skills were limited. there was no way of knowing what.

a silence rolled along, your stare soft but unrelenting as you kept it on jason, trying to catch every micro-expression, every accidental muscle twitch — but it seemed jason couldn't keep things secret for long.

his stature deflated, the strong wall you usually knew him to be crumbling down a few blocks, and his eyes flickered down to the sink, pale droplets still trickling down the drain.

"i'm really ugly."

eyebrows furrowed together like you were personally offended, you took an assertive step in front of jason, slotting yourself as well as you could within the gap between him and the sink.

with an iron grip, although not trying to scare him, you took hold of his arms, staring up at him but not forcing him to look at you.

"i can't believe you would say that," you couldn't help but blurt out. it was the wrong move, could make him think something was wrong with being insecure. "do you know how the room lights up every time you step inside? how my heart flutters when you speak?"

the pressure of your palms lightened against him, but your thumbs pressed in slightly. "sometimes you meet my eyes when we're brushing our teeth together, and you smile with a mouthful of toothpaste, and i don't stop thinking about it until you do it again the next day."

that seemed to cause the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"and when i wake up before you, i want to stay in bed to see how peaceful you look asleep, knowing you're probably so tired from patrol, but you still made it back here, into bed, with me. your heart is just as kind as your eyes."

a line formed, connecting the edge of his smile to the cut on his nose, and his eyes finally mustered up the courage to meet yours, wondering if they're as kind as you said they were.

then the smile faltered, and jason looked back up at the mirror. "i think i'm just not used to myself yet. i still feel like i should be... little."

your hands trailed up his arms, to find purchase on the sides of his head, fingers moving through black hair, all over the place from his long sleep.

"you're exactly who you were always meant to be. maybe it came about a bit faster than it was supposed to, but you've adjusted so well." you swiped his fringe back, out of his eyes, revealing the extent of that cut in his eyebrow, causing you to sigh softly. his eyes were back on you, admiring — how could someone possibly feel this way about him?

as your gaze swept over the rest of his face, dusting along the healed scar at the corner of his mouth, one drawing a line vertically down his cheekbone, warmth seeped through your bones, a comfortable ache settling in your ribcage. he had scratches and scars peeking out from the neckline of his top — and not to forget the chunk missing from his ear that you were trying to avoid touching, more for his sake than yours.

"you're so handsome, jason." you couldn't help it. you met his eyes again, smile tired from your long day, but that didn't make it any less true.

before you, jason gave a shaky exhale, struggling to maintain eye contact. but he was trying, really, really trying.

"doesn't that face get you everything you want?" it came as a chuckle, a soft shake of your head in disbelief. maybe because you were always looking for it, because you believed it so, but his family did everything they could for him; not because they had to, or had been asked to, but because they wanted to, because they loved him. it went similarly with you. there was just something charming about him that he didn't seem to realise.

finally, a soft pressure formed around your back, the familiar hold of an arm.

jason appreciated words, but that didn't mean he was always the best with them — but that's what was so special about him, he always tried. "yeah," he smiled. "it got me you."

and for the first time that day — much too late if anyone asked your opinion — jason dipped down to meet your lips, sweetly brushing that work weight from your shoulders.

[castiwls]

motel girl

Paring; older!patrick x female!reader

Summary; the last thing you should be doing as a collage student working a shitty motel job was being charmed by the washed up 30 something year old tennis player into giving him a free room - never mind agreeing to join him in said room

warnings; porn with a small plot, age gap (patricks early 30s & reader is early 20s), drinking, orgasm denial, dry humping, thigh riding, biting (kinda?), dirty talk (Patrick says good girl once), fem!reader (sorry) - anything I missed let me know!

Notes; maybe the freakiest thing i've written em kinda scared to post this🥲 also way longer then I intended I was gonna make this a bot but I'm not sure.

Masterlist

"I can get you the money at the end of the week."

You should've realised then and there that he was bad news. If the way he'd suddenly come onto you the minute his card declined wasn't a big enough flag, his ego the size of the sun should have had you kicking him out to the streets.

Yet, somehow, Patrick Zweig had charmed you into giving him a room at a motel you'd rather never be in past your work hours and as a result, you'd found yourself hanging around said motel way after your shift was over.

He was far from the first older man to try and hit on you for whatever they needed. Fresh towels, free food, a free room for the night, the list could go on.

Yet Patrick was the first remotely active man to work his charm on you.

You hated the fact it worked.

"Hey. You finish soon, right?" He leaned over the counter, his eyes staring unshamedly at your chest as you glanced up from the laptop. "You got the money yet?" He grinned, "No," He leaned slightly closer, his grin only growing. "I won my match. Still in the game."

"Shouldn't you be out celebrating?"

"You're the only person I know in this town."

He was bold. You'd give him that. "You don't know me." Patrick hummed, considering for a moment. "I know your name...and I know you get off soon."

Patrick watched his amusement only growing at the sight of your annoyance. Fuck Art and Tashi. Fuck the challenger, you were way more intresting.

"You have no money-"

"I have enough to make it worth your time."

------

You shouldn't be here.

You should have known it was a bad idea to go to the washed up tennis players motel room at 12am when you should have been anywhere else.

Forget the fact he must have been in his 30s at least and you had a collage class on Monday morning, you should have known there was no way this could end well.

The beer had helped. You'd at least managed to relax enough to spread out on the old bed while he watched from the floor, his eyes following your every movement like you were some sort of partictiarlly interesting bug he'd spotted.

"So you just spend your time playing? Doesn't it get boring?" You'd shifted, your head lying at the bottom of the bed as you watched him nurse his first beer.

"Pretty much." He nodded his face pinching slightly. "Its not boring-"

"You hit a ball with a racket."

Patrick huffed. "There's more to it then that." He trailed off staring at the wall as his fingers tapped agsint the old carpet. "If you play it with someone you know its more..."

Your lips pursed, noting the shift in atmosphere. "Oh..."

He nodded before it was like a switch flicked, and his lips pulled back into a grin. "You should come watch. Maybe you'll see it's more than just hitting a ball." You smiled slightly at the offer. "You're inviting me to watch?"

He nodded, taking a sip. "Why not? You got anything better to do? A boyfriend?" His lips curled at the face you pulled. He laughed as you shook your head, just a bit too quickly.

"No? No boyfriend or no watching?"

"No-No boyfriend." You mumbled, cringing slightly at the egurness in your voice. "-but sure. I'm not working on the day I'll come."

He smiled then, a proper one, and you felt your heart skip almost. Fuck this.

You both fell quiet, you still watching as he stood, stretching before placing the can on the dresser and approaching. Your breath caught as he was suddenly looming over you, his body being the only thing in your vision.

"I should...I should go." You swallowed, shifting to sit. As you turned, he moved with you, stepping into the space between your legs as they hit the ground. "Wait a minute-" His fingers, rough and calloused, brushed over your cheek, pausing over your lower lip for a minute.

You could feel your palms begin to sweat as you fisted a hand into the sheet. Neither of you said a word, his thumb pushing against your lip lightly.

The room seemed eerily quiet as his eyes searched your face for any hint of displeasure. Patrick's eyes met yours in a silent question.

'Do you want this to?'

The slightest movement of your head, and his lips were crashing into yours, his hand slipping to cup your jaw, the kiss messy and unpracticed. It was pure need as you pressed closer your own hand fisting in his hair pulling a quiet noise from his throat.

Your own lips parted in surprise when his teeth nipped at your lip. He deepened the kiss, pressing a knee to the bed as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, almost like he was scared you'd disappear.

Patrick pressed forward, the two of you moving in sync as you shifted back onto your knees, allowing him the space to climb onto the bed. You gasped when he pulled back, air suddenly filling your lungs as his lips pressed to your cheek before moving down to your neck.

"Off," He murmured against the skin of your neck, tugging at your top. He pulled back just enough for you to throw your top somewhere before he was tugging you into his lap, his teeth nipping at the skin of your chest.

You could hardly hold back the gasp which tumbled from your throat at the feel of his lips on your skin, his hips slowly beginning to rock up against yours as you felt him harden in the confines of his jeans.

Your hands were clumsy as you tugged at the button of his jeans. "No. Not yet." One of Patrick's hands closed over yours, guiding them away and behind your back.

He held them there for a moment, grinning at your whine. "Already so needy-" His teeth bit down against the skin of your neck before he pulled away, his eyes blown with hunger. "-so perfect." His free hand unhooked your bra with surprising efficiency, letting your hands go for just enough to tug it down and away before he was flipping you both over.

"Patrick," His name fell from your lips as he pressed your hands to the pillow, his eyes dark as he hummed. "I said I'd make it worth your time-" His lips met yours again, the kiss hungrier this time.

He was like a man starved, your teeth clashing as he pressed your hands further into the pillow. "-Let. me." He barely pulled back long enough to get the words out before he was kissing you breathless again, his knee pressing between your legs as your hips rolled on instinct.

You gasped, pleasure running through you at the sudden friction. Your hips rolled again, a whimper leaving you as he pulled back his lips pressing to your jaw once more before he pulled back to watch you properly.

His knee pressed up more, amusement flashing in his eyes at the way your cheeks heated as a quiet moan left your lips. "Good?" He questioned as you nodded your head.

"Ah. Use your words."

He was going to be the death of you. White hot pleasure ran through you at his tone, your eyes widening as another moan fell from your lips. "S'good. So good - Patrick-" He hummed in satisfaction, his hand letting go of your wrists to brace himself on the bed as his head dipped down.

"Good girl."

He barely gave you a second to breathe before his tongue was tracing around one of your nipples, the feeling combined with the friction between your legs short-circuiting your brain for a moment.

If you'd been in a clearer head space, you'd have been embarrassed by the sound that left your lips, but you were past caring. You whimpered when his teeth grazed the peak before he moved onto the other side, giving equal attention.

"Patrick, I-" Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your pleasure slowly reach that peak. The feel of his lips combined with the friction between your legs pushes you closer and closer to that mind-bending edge.

It was so close you could almost taste it, his name falling from your lips between whimpers and moans. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching - one more second and-

"Wha-" Your eyes shot open when his leg disappeared, his face coming back into view with a wide grin.

That fucker.

His lips pressed to yours again, silencing your complaints as you felt him smile. "You're cruel." He laughed, his fingers brushing away the hair stuck to your forehead.

"Why?"

"I gotta make sure you come to that match somehow?" Patrick shifted, his fingers tracing over a mark on your neck. "You come and I win again tomorrow," His fingers drifted down your neck to gently tip your chin up to meet his eyes.

"I'll give you whatever you want."

He knew he had you. He'd given you a taste of what he could do. Just enough to make you stick around.

You prayed he won that stupid match.

[rimatsu]

Lou is listed for 8x18. He was also briefly listed as part of 8x17 but it's gone now 👀

if we learned anything from the 815 and ana flores imdb fiascos, it's that the pre-episode cast listings are wildly unreliable and easily modified by just about anyone with an account and enough free time on their hands. i'm more inclined to believe that lfj (and gabrielle walsh #edna canon s10 trust☝️) were removed by trolls/upset fans after being added by producers than the opposite. either way, we'll only know for sure on thursday.

now personally... based on the original and alternative 817 synopses ("they try to move forward and plan for the future" + "buck contemplates where he's supposed to be") as well as lfj's interview ("post-funeral? [...] he'll show vulnerability"), i suspect we'll see tommy in both the penultimate and final episodes.

(side-note: i think the "where's he's supposed to be" bit mostly refers to buck's professional life as hinted by oliver in his march interviews, or maybe even literally, if eddie is choosing to stay in LA as soon as next episode.)

it's been extensively discussed by now, but tommy's presence in the flashback was unnecessary. i'd argue that it would've been more impactful (and circularly thematic) for chimney to pull bobby back from a near fiery death, yet the writers picked the secondary character as the savior in that scene to remind casual viewers (who might've forgotten s2 by now) that tommy served under bobby, for 3 connected reasons:

1. legitimize his role as a pallbearer

2. further integrate him in the fabric of the show

3. give more substance to the bobby-tommy relationship so that any memory or anecdote he might share with buck carries more weight and doesn't come out of left field (for the GA). i maintain that tommy's role is primarily that of a LI. in verse? his presence in the procession can be explained by his link to the 118 and specifically to bobby as his former subordinate. narratively? tommy was involved in contagion and the funeral bc of his association with buck. eventually, they must talk: tommy is the one character who witnessed buck's raw, unconcealed grief before he put on his composed mask. a setup implies a payoff.

formally speaking, reconciliation will probably happen in the finale. that's when storylines usually converge to be resolved. the end of 817 segues into the big disaster and 818 appears to be emergency heavy, with minimal room for anything beside saving the day and said resolutions. this means that any heart-to-heart buck and tommy might share (and i believe they absolutely need one before making up, short as it may be) needs to happen next episode to set the bulk of the groundwork for that end-of-season bittersweet win. and it looks like buck has the b-plot in 817, so.... 2+2=4.

[ippilulu]

what does a golden boy do when he fails? - a Caleb fic

a/n: I'm getting into a bad, bad habit of writing Caleb fanfic whenever life troubles me for longer than usual. Anyways ya girl's graduating and job hunting is stressing me outtt This is inspired by Caleb's 'Pathless Realm' anecdote, and I'm sure I speak for all Caleb girlies when I went 'uhhh Caleb what' when I read this bit. And then the pain of theorising what he'd been through in the lab hit again. Infold when I catch you infold

Caleb tread lightly, his laughter cutting through the nervous chatter that surrounded them- yet another joke of his had fallen flat. If it were not the moment that it was, perhaps the joke may have seen a different fate, but for now all it did was cut a path through the crowd that allowed him to easily get to the front- where the scores of their final tests were there for all to see. He looked from the top, his easy smile tightening as he realised his name was first.

But that wasn't what caught his attention.

As others realised the same truth, the chatter grew louder, now accompanied with stares and fingers pointing at him. Not because of him coming first (which may as well have been a universal truth at this point), but because his scores were perfect across the board, except for one- where he'd failed so horribly it may as well have been on purpose.

Gideon came from behind him, hitting him on the shoulder. "Hey man, did you decide to give a chance to the rest of us too by flunking your mental health evaluations or something? You could have atleast seemed like you'd tried, ya know..." The nervousness of the crowd dissipated into laughter, and Caleb smiled along, nodding and shrugging. "Something came up that day, so I missed the test. Not like I did it on purpose." "Sure, sure, our star cadet could never have failed anything after all!" The laughter became louder, Caleb's smile brighter.

He quickly excused himself, saying that he needed to share his scores with his family. But as soon as he was alone, he frowned at his screen, a mail icon blinking up at him innocently.

'Caleb Xia, you are recommended to sit for a re-evaluation of the mental health examination. This includes:

10 sessions with a mental health counselor

1 session with your academic counselor

A final retest at the end of the sessions

Please report to your academic counselor at the earliest to discuss further details.

Onward and upward!

DAA Adminstration'

What bothered Caleb wasn't the fact that he'd failed (although it did sting quite a bit- after all, he was the star cadet who effortlessly got everything he wanted- something he took pride in even if he always made it seem otherwise), but that he didn't know why he failed. Every other subject he just needed to memorise the text, memorise the angle or the signal or whatever it required and he'd be set. And his practicals were even easier, his Evol and general... himness making it almost effortless. But mental health... all he had to rely on was himself. And that scared him a bit the day of the exam, but he'd shrugged- How bad could it be?

Looking at his grand score of 0/100, apparently- very, very bad.

---

"Caleb, we know you're not the type of student to do these things on purpose. You've been taking your academics very seriously from the start... so what happened here? Why did you choose to write..." His counselor pushed his answer sheet between them, gesturing at his handwriting. He glanced at the question on top of it- 'What do you consider to be the greatest challenge during flight missions?' Below it, he'd written- "It's hard to get home on time."

Caleb took a deep breath, remembering Gideon and Patrick's reactions to his answers. He'd joked around at the time, trying to make it seem a smaller deal than it was, but this bothered him quite a bit.

It was obvious, after all- if he asked someone, Hey, what are the right answers for this one?- he'd get weirder looks and possibly attention he'd rather do without.

"I'm... I'm deeply sorry for this, Professor. I think I'd fallen ill that day... But still, I'll make sure not to repeat this again."

The older lady nodded, her face softening. "Caleb, you're a good kid- you've had your head on straight all this time. But if you ever need help..." Her eyes swam with concern.

Caleb chuckled, tilting his head at an angle that would belie lightheartedness. "That's awfully sweet of you, Professor! But I'm alright, honest. If I ever do need anything though, you'll be the first I come to, I swear."

She laughed softly and gestured him out of her office, assuring him he didn't need to bother with the re-evaluation if he truly didn't feel like it- after all, it didn't even count towards their scores. Plus, one would be hard-pressed to find someone as dedicated to their studies and ambitions as Caleb, so it was all rather unnecessary.

Caleb was relieved as he walked out. Now he wouldn't need to ask Gideon any weird questions that'd make him more concerned, nor would he have to face the test and what it represented once again- that both of them had left something behind in that lab. She, with her multiple deaths and short lives, and him... apparently with what made him human.

---

"Caleb! You're coming home soon, right? I promised all my friends I'd treat them to your braised chicken wings..." He laughed, shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts. "Aren't I the one who'd be making them? How come you're already treatin' people to it?" She whined, and he hid his smile as he walked into the sun. "Caleb, you dummy! Weren't you the one who said you'd be my personal chef last year? This is the least I can do, then. Hmph." "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, pipsqueak. All you miss is my food, I've got the memo."

"I..." Caleb saw his friends wave to him, and he nodded to them, almost missing her soft voice. "Hmm?" "I... I miss you more. Come back home soon, dummy." She quickly cut the call, and he looked at her contact photo- a picture of him and her together, clicked last year when they'd gone to the amusement park- before keeping his phone back inside. Like instinct, his fingers grabbed the dog tag she'd gifted him, touching it to his lips softly like a prayer- before he let it fall back in its usual place.

There was no need to bother with the mental health evaluation scores. It's not like they'd help her if they were better. He was already her perfect Caleb, and that was what he'd continue to be, mental health be damned. He'd manage, as he's always been... Even if it was getting harder.

All he needed to do was become stronger.

Just as he'd always been.

[wolkentage]

synopsis / beginning / prev / next

[transcript]

Avery: That's it. I'm going to call Darren. I'm not watching this misery any longer. Finn: I'm… I swear… I'm… fine. Avery: Nico, can you keep an eye on him while I make the phone call? Finn: I said... I'… fine. Avery: Hmm~ I can see how fine you are.

(around 20 minutes later)

Nico: A videocall? Avery: It's the best I could organise in this short amount of time.

Avery: Darren, can you hear us? Darren: Sure can! Just lemme adjust my camera real quick!

Darren: Hey Nico! Hey Finn! I was really hoping our first meeting would be in person but Avery made it sound like you're on the brink of death. Finn: It's not that bad... Avery: Nico found you collapsed on the floor. I'd say that justifies a call. Darren: Where there any signs that your condition is getting worse? Mood swings, changes in appetite? Stuff like that? Finn: Not… really. Just… ugh… no. Nothing. Darren: Avery mentioned your little escape attempt. You're quite the rascal, aren't you? Darren: Given everything that happened the last few days, it's likely stress related. I'd say we double the dose of medication for now. Darren: I'll have a proper look at you first thing once I'm back! Well~ second thing. I probably need to catch up one some sleep first. Darren: Until then, try to take things easy. The same applies to you two, Avery and nico! Pushing through all the time isn't healthy. Avery: Darren, do you still have a moment? I'd like to talk with you in private. Darren: Sure. But make it quick. Oskar wants attention.

Avery: That's it? You're telling me all this is just due to some stress? Darren: Of course not. There… have been some events here lately. Darren: It's likely they're related to all this, but I can't talk about them yet. I'll tell you everything on Thursday. Avery: What do you mean you can't talk about them yet? Darren: It wouldn’t be very smart of me to spill military secrets while still stuck in Strangerville, would it? I promise I’ll tell you as soon as possible. Darren: But for now, have a close look on Finn and make sure that he gets plenty of rest. That should do until I return.

author's note: *hisses at The Mother*