#How often has he been using that towel to clean up sick??????? it’s never in the washing machine usually i’m the one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberriianime · 10 months

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those eyes

♡ Douma x innocent angel!reader

♡ cw: descriptions of sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, Douma being a complete liar, dominant Douma, Douma being a JERK, creampies? creampies, slight degradation & humiliation, loss of virginity, basically sexxxx.

♡ Douma is known for being cunning, so no figure he was able to fool you~

Humming softly you cleaned the delicate vases in the cool spring water allowing all sprinkles of dirt to get off of the vase. Your thin white dress was floating slightly in the water not bothering you the slightest. You would come down to this spring every now and then to wash different things, a way of blessing an item. Being an angel who had just recently arrived on earth you were getting used to the whole angel thing, you didn’t have much to do just visit small communities and offer small blessings. Blending in was easy, you had the appearance of a normal human your wings only being out when necessary since being here you haven’t run into any problems. Until.

Shaking the access water from the vase, you began making your way out of the water dressed, completely clinging to your body and showing off your lovely figure. Nipples poked through the long sheer gown, showing off the hue of the nubs.

“My my my, a woman shouldn’t be out here all alone you know” You turned your head left and right looking for the mysterious person who spoke suddenly. Facing back forward you were met with a pair of rainbow-colored eyes. You jumped slightly causing you to fall into the spring and drop the vase you were blessing causing it to break.

“Oh no you’ve fallen in, my deepest apologies. Please take my hand and allow me to help you out.” He smiled sticking his hand out to you. You took his hand as he helped you up and brought you out of the water.

“What might you have been up to? Out here all alone, how dangerous.” He kept that smile on his face, something about him was hypnotizing it was like his eyes put you in a trance.

“I was simply cleaning some belongings, I come quite often I was doing fine. Thank you for being concerned sir.” you smiled at him shaking the access water off of you.

“Oh no problem at all, a beauty like you must be protected you never know what could be lurking in the shadows out here ready to gobble your up.” His head tilted slightly to the side. Perhaps he was right, you know demons are real and they like to prey on the innocent. So it could be quite dangerous for you, you’ve only spent a total of 8 days on Earth and all has been swell so far.

“Perhaps you’re right, it is best that I do get going thank you for helping me.” you began walking away grabbing the one other vase that had not been broken.

“Ah, I can’t let you go just yet it is my fault that your other vase broke. It is only right if I replaced it. I have a dear friend who makes the loveliest vases you would just adore. So please allow me to replace it?” he placed his hands together almost begging you to come with him.

As an angel, giving the man a chance would be your moral duty. “Sure, however, I am soaking wet.” you sighed referring to the soaked sheer dress you were still wearing.

“Here” he wrapped an overshirt over your body, taking your hand. “Let us be on the way, I stay not too far from here” he began walking taking you with him. It took quite literally no time to get to his “home” it was more like a temple. Quite off that you did not see this any other time you wandered these woods, possibly you’ve missed some areas.

He pushed open a set of cold stone doors, the room decorated with nothing but shades of red and hints of black. The room was cold, not your average cold but below-freezing cold and you wearing wet clothing which made it no better. Your nipples began hardening making you cross your arms along your chest attempting to shield them from the male in the room with you.

“My would you like to shed your wet clothing? You would only get sick wearing such clothing at this temperature. I will go get you a towel, you may remove your clothing.” he hummed slightly making his way from the bedroom area. You began removing the overshirt from your body, laying it on a nearby rack. Peeling off the wet dress, you were left in your bare state. You had really no reason to wear any garments under your clothing, although you didn’t own any anyways. Jumping slightly, you felt a cloth being brushed along your skin.

“Shh it’s just me dear.” the familiar voice ranged out. He ran the cloth along your back, your arms, and slowly down your legs. It was almost embarrassing being exposed so freely to a man you hardly know but there was something so charming about him.

“No need to be so shy, I'm simply aiding you as it was my fault you fell in anyway.” he hummed. He made his way to the front of your body brushing the towel over your breast and making a circular motion with the cloth.

“Hm, it would be better if you at on the bed. I can dress you better that way” It was as if your body moved on its own causing your bottom to make a connection with the bed. He took the towel and began drying your left foot making way up your leg. Switching to your other foot, he began drying up your leg making his way up to your thighs. Taking the cloth he began drying your thighs, ensuring to absorb any moisture from the spring.

“Spread your legs,” he stated as if that was a normal thing to say to any woman.

“Uh, I-” Your face flushed to a shade of strawberry red.

“I’m just drying you off any I can’t dry you properly when you’re clamping your legs together locking their moisture in,” he states hands finding themselves on your plush thighs. Although it did not matter considering the strong grip he had on your thighs, you cracked your legs open slightly only for him to spread them wide open. Taking the cloth once more, he began wiping at the inner parts of your thighs getting rid of the last bit of spring water. He dropped the cloth to the floor, allowing his ice-cold hands to dance along your body. He ran a finger up your body, stopping right at your chin.

“You just smell of innocence, never been touched by a man or woman if you’re into that. The way you glide through the water of the spring just begging to be eaten up.” your face twisted up in confusion, what was he getting at?

“As I was drying you, you don’t think I noticed the way you tensed up or the way you clamped your legs together as if begging for me to touch you more?” he brought his face close to yours those rainbow eyes glowing even in a room with little to no light.

“Sir I must not do this, it isn’t right and I must remain pure.” you turned your head away from him.

“You will still be pure, just do whatever your heart desires~” his cold tongue licked along the side of your neck making you squeal. He lapped at your neck licking from the bottom all the way to the tip of your chin. You felt him push your body back slightly, your back coming in contact with the cool sheets. His large body towered over yours with ease. He licked at your neck again, this time trailing down making way from your shoulders to your right nipple. He licked ever so lightly at the bud that had been hardened by the temperature causing your to squirm under his body. He took his time with your nipple, sucking at the bud getting it nice and wet, rolling it along his tongue. He brought one of his fingers up your leg, dancing its way up to your warm entrance. You’ve never been touched by anyone like this before, it was a new feeling of complete bliss. Your body felt as if it had electricity flowing through it. His finger poked at your entrance, swiping slightly to remove the stickiness of your juices that held your folds together. Stroking at your entrance was enough to get your hips rolling. Just as he switched from your right nipple to your left, you felt him insert one of his cold fingers inside your warmth. He moved the solo finger slowly, allowing you to adjust to his finger. The feeling of his finger inside you and him toying with your nipple was almost enough to send you over the edge.

He released your nipple from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva bridging between the two. Your body tensed up as you felt him slide down to your lower half, cool breath tickling at your entrance. Taking both of his hands, he pushed your thighs apart spreading them to the widest of their ability. You felt his tongue lick with the perfect amount of pressure at your clit causing you to let out an erotic moan. You heard him chuckle slightly before he dove into your cunt licking sloppily while sucking harshly at the right areas. He sucked at your clit rolling the nub along his tongue, cool breath mixed with your warm heat causing your back to arch off of the bed. He gripped at your thighs, cuffing them into his hands holding you in place as he lapped at your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth. Your hands soon found their way to his golden hair, gripping the hair in your fist tight but not tight enough that it’ll cause pain. As if it was not enough already, you felt him release one of your thighs, taking two of his fingers and pushing them into your entrance. You groaned feeling the pressure of his fingers mixed with the feeling of him eating at your heat. Before you know it, he flipped you over so you were now on all fours and he was laying flat on his back. Your body hovered over his as he locked his hands into your thighs once more, pushing your heat down onto his face and allowing him to smother himself with your juices. The feeling was too much as your legs began shaking, but that did not stop his pace at all. With one final suck at your clit your body trembled to feel a euphoric feeling flood over your body.

You began catching your breath, chest heaving with each breath. You have never experienced this feeling, not once in 100 years. Was this wrong? Dragging you out of your thoughts you felt something fairly large Without any warning, you felt your inside being stretched to the fullest. The feeling was a mix of pain and pleasure and at the moment you were definitely feeling more pain.

“Please Sir I can’t take it.” your face scrunched up as the burn started to slowly fade.

“Oh but you can, and you will” he smiled showing those rainbow eyes. Looking into them almost had you in a trance, you didn’t realize that he began moving as you stared so deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t until a sharp snap of his hip that brought you to your sense. With every stroke he was slow but sharp, letting you feel every inch that he had to offer. Taking your hands and pinning them above your head, he began adjusting the pace. Things had gone from slow and sharp to a new pace of fast and rough. Each thrust was jagged, snapping so harshly into you as if he wanted to rip you in half. Your breast bounced at each thrust, the bed creaked loudly through the room, and the only sound left would be the sound of your squelching cunt that filled the room with its wetness.

“Fuck, you’re so tight I could barely fit still.”

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good just for me.”

“My hell you’re so fucking wet’“

You whined as his fast rough pace began puncturing your insides, you could feel every inch of him within the deepest parts of your stomach. Your cunt swallowed him whole, as it had been stretched as if it had been perfectly molded to his shape. He removed himself from you, once more finding yourself being flipped back onto all fours. He pushed you back down creating the perfect arch for him, allowing himself to push deeply back into you, The burning was still there as his raw flesh met your soft spongy walls. He dug himself deep into you, the deepest you’ve felt him go so far. He lowered his body, his chest resting on your back as he wrapped his hands around your lower waist slamming himself deep into you. You gripped the sheets under you, as a new wave of please came over your body.

“Sir please” you called out eyes shut tight body barely can hold on much longer. He licked at your ear, whispering a bunch of sweet nothings.

“Who would’ve ever thought that fucking an angel would be this easy? Oh, I have to tell the other uppermoons.” he chuckled body still pressed deep into yours. Uppermoons? What..

“Demons and angels aren’t supposed to be together but I think we fight together perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces.” Demon...? He was a demon?

“Oh don’t tell me you really couldn’t tell. How sad, the big scary demon just devoured the poor innocent angel. What are the odds you let a demon not only fuck you but take your first time?” he laughed not missing a single thrust.

“Don’t tell me you like that, your clamping down on me mighty tight” Your face flushed with shock so many emotions ran through your head.

“Don’t worry, your Lord Douma will take good care of you.” he snapped his hips sharply one last time enough to push you over the edge. You felt his own bodily fluid mix with yours, invading your intimate areas. He pulled himself out of you, laying your body down softly. He propped himself up staring at you with those rainbow eyes once more, this time a kanji symbol appearing in them. How can you be so dense, sadly to say you kinda liked it?

#I dont think this was good #I got tired of writing ugh #demon slayer #douma #douma x reader #reader x douma #demonslayer #demon slayer smut #douma smut #douma x reader smut #ayeteen plus #demon slayer imagine #anime smut #smut #doma x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny douma

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insomniamamma · 7 months

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Gravity: Ezra x f!reader

A/n: Written for my year of kisses. @yearofcreation2023 The prompt is a kiss on the eyelids, and I originally intended to write it for Boba Fett (which I may still do) but then I rewatched Prospect and gave myself the yearns. Title inspired by this song. This jumps around in time.

Warnings: Much flirting and fluff. Reader has unspecified medical condition that keeps her from going to space. Ezra needs his own warning. Medical treatment. References to sickness and medical procedures. References to sex but nothing explicit.

Ezra hums contentedly beneath your hands. Shirtless and tilted backwards over the deep sink, towel draped around his sun-freckled shoulders. He positively purrs as you smooth the conditioner through his curls, scratching lightly over his scalp, tugging, but just a little. Real shampoo and conditioner are an imported nicety, expensive and not often used. Seems a shame to so thoroughly clean his hair only to shear so much of it off.

Long hair is a pain in the ass when you’re doing suit work, a pain in the ass in microgravity. You can tie it back but if it comes lose, you have random threads sweat-plastered to your face or tickling your nose or nape or eyebrow without being able to fix it. You don’t know this from your own experience. Born sickly, you could not follow your brothers off world, never as strong as them, failed the g-tests and the orientation tests and the flight instructor took you aside, look, you get the right combo of meds and cautery and you might be able to work a tug or a yard-switcher up to the Bench, but you’re not gonna get out of this well.

So you stayed. Da long gone, died way out towards the end of the Great Arm. And your brothers faded out of your life one by one by one. Once in a while you’d get packet drops, grainy vids squirted between can-haulers and freighters, a game of telephone that stretched the length of the Great Arm, but those became less and less. Even after contact waned, the points would still accrue in the family account, remittance from Kevva knows where. Until they didn’t. Faded out of your lives like comets flaring bright before slinging out into the black. You stayed behind and made due.

Learned the herbalist’s trade from your Ma who learned it from her Ma as far back as your first kin who colonized here, who built the house you live in now, who planted the gardens that provide food and medicines. Leaves and flowers and roots all diagrammed out, with their varied dangers and uses recipes for salves and tinctures and dyes, soaps, meticulously drawn and copied out from Ma’s book into one that you stitched and bound yourself. A right of passage of sorts, preserve what’s come before and add your own knowledge. The last few entries of your Ma’s book near illegible, from when the Wandering Sickness took her ability to write, a hash of Central glyph-speak and her own short-hand.

Ma had been gone for about a year when you met Ezra, or rather, when someone in town took pity on Ezra and sent him to your door. He was naked from the waist up skin blotched in swollen, crimson wheals. You shake your head. Off-worlders never learn. “I must apologize for my state of disarray,” he says, “The rubbing of my shirt seams became unbearable on my walk from town. I seem to have an allergy to the local flora.” He speaks a lilting off-world accent. One eye is red and puffed into a narrow slit, looks like he’s winking at you. “Humbleweed,” you say, “Looks like you rolled in the stuff. Come on in, spacer, lets get you fixed up.” “It’s called humbleweed because it puts people fool enough to touch it in their place?” “That’s right,” you say, leading him inside, “Wanna tell me how you got coated in it?” “Me and my crewmates are camped out along yonder lake. We were passing around a bottle of firewater and got to tussling. Not unfriendly like, but I took a bad step into some bushes. Didn’t think much of it at the time—“ “Please tell me none of you were stupid enough to throw any of that mess in a campfire.” “No, Ma’am, there was bone dry drift wood a-plenty.” “Good because the smoke would make your lungs do the same thing that’s happening with your skin, and we’d be calling for a dropper.” “That sounds most unpleasant,” he says, and you gesture towards the large, hammered metal tub. “Strip,” you say, “And hop in.” You say, fetching a rusty metal canister and a scrub brush from the shelf. You pull on some disposable gloves. An imported nicety, but you don’t want humbleweed resin getting under your own nails. “Ezra.” “What?” “My name is Ezra, and I’d like to know yours before you see my nether regions.” You laugh. This big, swaggering spacer with his odd, archaic way of speaking is shy. Damned if you don’t see his ears and cheeks going red. You tell him your name and rest a gloved hand on his upper arm. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen, okay? Unless they build men different further down the Arm. Give me your clothes. We’ll need to treat and wash them too.” Ezra reluctantly peels down. The worst of the rash is on his upper half, but there’s a particularly nasty line of welts around his waist, snaking down along the soft swell of his belly, telltale lines where he scratched at it in his sleep, got the sap under his nails and dragged it around, unthinking. He stands stone still while you run your gloved hands over him, checking places he wouldn’t think to check himself, armpits and the soles of his feet and juncture of hip and thigh, squirms under your touch. “I’m sorry—“ he says, red faced— “No need,” you say, “I once treated a man who was fool enough to wipe his ass with the leaves. He waited until it all blistered up to get help—“ You push the metal canister and scrub brush into his hands. “You sluice this over the red patches and scrub, clear? It’ll sting some—“ “This smells like engine degreaser.” “It is engine degreaser,” you say, “But it’ll do the job. Let me get your face though. Don’t want you getting this in your eyes. Get what you can reach and I’ll take care of your clothes, yeah?” His clothing goes in the deep sink, warm water and a generous pour of degreaser. You can’t help but look at him, his back to you, all broad freckled shoulders and red, puckered scars, tells of a spacer’s life, trying to reach over the curve of his own spine with the scrub brush. “Miss? Ma’am? I can’t quite—“ You find yourself smiling, take the scrub brush and canister from him, pour a cold rill down his spine and scrub, and he shudders. “Stings.” “I know.”

He flinches when you bring the degreaser soaked cloth to his face, draws back, his eye a puffed red slit leaking tears, his hands circle your wrists, stilling you. “Ezra. You need to let me do this.” “Perhaps this can wait for the Bench, this may be beyond what you can do here, not saying that I mistrust your skills or judgement but—“ “Look up. You see that bundle of Kind Sister? The star shaped flowers?” “Yes, but I don’t- “Look up and hold still. You keep your eyes right there.” You wipe the degreaser over the puffed skin below his eye, and you can feel the tension in him, thrumming beneath his skin. “Breathe, handsome, I’ve done this many times.” “It’s not that I don’t trust—“ “Just keep looking up.” “Burns a little.” “It will.” You dab the cloth over his skin, right up to the fringe of his lashes. “Close.” “I don’t think—“ “Don’t need you to think. Close your eyes.” He feels the chill on his eyelids and flinches away. “Sssshhhhh. Hold still. Not gonna hurt you.” He stills and lets you wipe his eyes with the degreaser, and you can’t help but admire the way his dark lashes fall against his cheeks.

“You’re unsettled.” “Maybe I don’t want to shear off these pretty curls.” You thread your fingers through his hair and raise the scissors to start cutting, but his hand curves around your wrist. “You’ve not been this unsettled before,” says Ezra, “Talk to me Gentle, tell me what’s bothering you.” And you can’t help but smile, his nickname for you always manages to make your chest tighten, someplace between swelling love and crippling fear, presses his lips to the soft skin of your wrist where the veins rest so close. “You’re going so far this time, and you know I can’t go after you if things go wrong—“ “The risk is greater, but the reward is….” he trails off, fingers tracing the landscape of your knuckles. Ezra has words for everything, three words when one will do, and to hear him go silent, to see him search for words feels wrong, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t. He draws inward for a beat and then those dark eyes find yours. “The reward is such that I could stop my rambling ways. If we find what we suspect is there.” “You’re saying you’ll stay.” “I am.” The shiny scissors in your hand tremble, sending little arcs of light across the rough hewn walls. “You’ll come down the well. For keeps.” “For keeps, Gentle Hands. My heart already resides here. I finish this job? You’ll have all of me. For as long as you can put up with my nonsense.” Your hands still. Dread replaced by spreading warmth. You smile. “You’d be surprised at how much of your nonsense I can tolerate.”

“Oh, Kevva,” Ezra sighs and sags against you, “You are surely one of Her kind sisters. She has given you the touch, the blessing—“ You lightly slap his cheek with a gloved hand. “Don’t you go boneless on me, handsome.” You’ve been liberally coating the red wheals and rising blisters with a salve of kind sister, sersath and bird-eye berry. This salve counters the miserable itch of humbleweed, and triggers a kind of euphoric sedation in maybe one in five people you’ve treated. “You’re having a strong reaction. It’s not dangerous. Kevva’s just smiling on you. That’s all. You’ll feel right as rain in about a sixteenth. Hey! You go limp and I will not heave your ass off this floor.” “I will gladly spend the rest of my days gazing up in admiration.” “Hmmmm. Might hold you to that, pretty spacer.” “Would give my life into your gentle hands,” “Okay. Okay, let’s get you settled,” You steer Ezra naked and greasy towards a fresh-sheeted cot you keep against one wall, just in case. He’s not the first stray to rest there a spell and surely won’t be the last. He stretches himself out like a cat lounging in a sunbeam, yawning hugely, even covered in angry red wheals and pinkish goo he’s quite the sight. Pretty man, you think, too bad I’ll probably never see him again. “y’can look all you want, Gentle Hands,” he mumbles, and you feel your face go hot, “I don’t- I don’t mind.” “Here,” you say, pulling the top sheet up to his chest, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--“ His hand finds yours, warm and enfolding. “Gentle Hands,” he says, but his eyes are already closed, his holding hand already letting go, dropping away from yours, arm dangling stiffly off the edge of the cot, “Kind heart.” And you know it’s the salve, maybe you’ve got the proportions wrong, the strength of the bird-eye berry varies depending on where it’s picked. Have to pay more attention next time, or maybe this pretty spacer just reacts stronger than most for a whole slew of reasons that have nothing to do with you. Ezra snores. You smile and lay his hand over his chest so his arm doesn’t fall asleep. And then go to fetch his clothes from the deep sink so you can rinse them out.

You thread your fingers through his hair and cut like you’ve done many times before. Always makes you a little sad, seeing the curls he’s grown in his time with you piled on the floor in front of the deep sink. Ezra luxuriates under your touch, relishes the feel of your hands carding through his curls, tugging, measuring with the width of your fingers, ruffling his hair this way and that, making sure things are even. You’ve done this for your brothers and now you do it for your lover. Brush the stray bits of hair from his shoulders, letting your hands wander the breadth of him, tuck yourself into the join of his shoulder and neck and his arms come up around you, cradling you against him, the two of you swaying together. I’ll be back before you know it.

Ezra finds you in the front garden says your name and snaps you out of your reverie, the muscle-memory motions of removing errant weeds and dead leaves. You stand and wipe the dirt on your pants and turn to look at him, feel yourself grin. He’s wrapped the top sheet around himself like a toga, shuffles along the walk like a newborn calf, a bit unsteady and blinking in the bright sunlight. The swelling around his eye has already gone down significantly. “Ezra. How you feeling?” “A little tingly,” he says, “A little foggy headed, truth be told, I don’t recall dozing off. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you-“ “You haven’t,” you walk the narrow path through the herb beds to where his clothes hang on the line. You frown. “Still damp. Come on. I think I’ve got something that might fit you. Don’t want to send you back into town with a wet ass.” You move to herd him back into the house, but he stops you, his hand curled gently around your wrist. “I, uh, I worry that I may have said something untoward,” says Ezra, “My mouth has a tendency to run along on it’s own and Kevva knows I have not experienced such gentle care in a whole heap of stand-months--“ “You flirted with me a little,” you say and feel yourself smile, he drops your wrist but you catch his hand in yours before he can pull away, “But I flirted right back.” “Did you now?” “Mmm-hmm.”

Ezra kisses you in that slow way of his, soft press of his lips to yours, his way of lingering, lips hovering over yours sharing breath between kisses, soft pecks and nuzzles, coaxing your lips apart so he can dip his tongue between them, his hands sliding warm beneath the hem of your shirt and when he breaks away so he can dip his face into the curve of your neck to nip at that tender place below your ear, you push him back, a firm hand on his chest. “No.” His brow knits, but his eyes are smiling. “No?” “Go shower off, Ezra. I don’t want all those little stray hairs in my nice clean sheets.” “Those sheets won’t be clean for long, Gentle Hands,” “Doesn’t mean I want to be all scratchy while we’re making a mess of them. Go on now.”

“This isn’t right,” you say, poking at the screen of your much repaired data-pad, “This is far more than what we agreed on.” “You’ve taken very good care of me,” says Ezra. He’s dressed in clothes your middle brother left behind, his own folded into a bundle and tucked under his arm. You reject the transaction. “I take very good care of everyone, Ezra, it’s my job.” “Still I spent a quarter cycle snoring away in your great room,” he says, “I expect most others would have roused me and sent me down the road. I wish to repay you for your kindness.” “I don’t need payment for that. Not with points anyway.” Ezra smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You got some other currency in mind?” “Maybe. You’re not boosting tonight are you?” “No,” he says, “We’re hopping the Magra-Tripoint line. Don’t need to hit the bench for three cycles and a little. You got something in mind, Gentle Hands?” You feel blood rise in your cheeks, something about his newly minted name for the you and the way he says it, lilt and rumble of his voice holding something that could be want, something that pulls on you, maybe a cycle or so of fun with a pretty man, but maybe something more. “There’s live music in the square tonight,” you say, “They usually start up around dusk--“ and you feel suddenly shy. Ezra’s a spacer, he’s been places you probably can’t imagine. “It’s not that weird twitchy shit coming out of Central these days is it?” You laugh. “No, nothing like that. What do you say? Take a girl dancing?” “I would be honored,” says Ezra, “But I’ll have you know that I am a terrible dancer.” “The steps are easy. I’ll show you.” “I look forward to it,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the square at sun-down.”

You have to go into town anyway. You sell your wares at the general store. Balms and salves and tinctures and teas, bird-eye berry gel for teething babies, kind sister and chamomile for sleepless nights. Callie takes her cut, but that’s the price of not having to man your own shop. Everyone in town knows to send the severe cases your way, and otherwise leave you be. There are always a few special orders, things not entirely above board, a powder made of bloodspot spores that will end a pregnancy, opium and bird eye berry dried and made into a tea that can ease someone’s passing with few questions. Giggle-weed infused syrup to help a man get hard, everything passed out in folded envelopes, dark glass jars,blank and innocuous. You do your rounds and make your way to the square, watch the first band set up. A cello imported from Kevva knows where, goatskin drums, a flute carved from a reaper-bird’s hind strut. Rough made guitars. You scan around the square and see the usual faces. There’s a couple of nightclubs closer to the docks, places where the spacers go and you imagine him there. Little prickling like a thorn inside your chest. Never going to see him again anyway so what does it matter?

“Well, there you are!” You turn from the pint of cider you’ve been nursing and smile. “Ezra! Wasn’t sure I’d see you!!” You stand and he pulls you into a strong embrace, and then holds you at arms length. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you either,” he says, “Pretty lady who soothed my hurts and listened to my yap and saw my pale and unimpressive ass? I’m surprised you didn’t run for the hills.” “I knew you’d be pretty once the swelling went down.” “You clean up nice, too.” You wonder for a second if he’s making fun, traded your usual workday clothes for your favorite dress, not fancy by off-world standards, river-linen dyed summer sky blue, but there’s no judgement in his eyes and widening smile, just warmth, slides his palms down your arms and squeezes your hands in his. The band plays and the caller names the steps, and people swing their partners and turn and Ezra’s face tightens. “This looks unduly complicated,” “Let’s get some cider in you. It won’t seem so complicated then.” “If you say so, Gentle Hands.” “I do say so. Just watch for a bit and then let me lead.”

Despite your best efforts, Ezra is truly a terrible dancer, the reels and jigs and square dances see him dazed, unable to tell his right from his left and after one particularly disastrous dance the two of you collapse into each other, laughing, clinging to each other and then the band starts a slow one, which means that the caller picks at his guitar and sings a song of lost love while the rest of the band hit the bar and give everyone else a chance to catch their breath. A handful of couples make their way to the floor, and Ezra holds his hand out to you. “This is a dance I know, if you’d do me the honor.”

You expect you’ll never see him again. You’ve come to regard the spacers you meet as spring-sprites, all sun glittered wings, pulling themselves out of the mud only to live a hand of cycles and then vanish. He’ll persist in your thoughts for a bit, this pretty man with his odd way of speaking and his lovely dark eyes, but once he leaves the well he’ll fade like they all do, become a tender memory and nothing more, but for now you ache pleasantly from his attentions. The dock is swarmed with clotted crews of spacers, stacks of luggage, piles of gear waiting to be loaded, low hiss of regulator-valves triggering along the snake-work of cable leading from the tanks to the transfer ship, a squat soot-stained wedge, plated in dingy heat-tiles like a fish’s scales. You suspect this craft is older than you. “This isn’t goodbye, you know,” says Ezra, and your heart squeezes. You’ve heard this before. A delirious hand of cycles, but they always go and they never come back and most times you are able to guard your heart, but not this time, not with him, and your usual glib response doesn’t come. “Ezra, I—we—it’s not?“ He reaches for you and cradles your face in his warm, rough hands, and you expect to feel his lips on yours, his mouth hungry and fever hot, but instead he stretches up and kisses your forehead, and something inside you tugs, pulls, cries out at this unexpected tenderness, tears sting your eyes so you close them, as his breath fans warm over your skin. Ezra kisses your closed eyes, right then left and then rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you again, Gentle Hands,” he says and pulls you into a crushing hug, and then the deck hand calls out a string of numbers over an intercom, balky speakers strung up on wooden poles all around the port and he’s gone into the surging crowd.

Ezra sings in the shower. He always does and Kevva have mercy that man can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Sweep his damp, shorn curls into a little pile to be scooped up and sprinkled into the garden beds, human scent revolting to the local fauna, but then it screams up at you, a little curl of starlight among the tangled dark, little twist of white hair cut from his temple that you so like to twine your fingers through, now discarded. You bend and pick the damp curl of hair from the floor and roll it between your fingers. You move almost without thinking, tuck that little curl into an envelope you usually use for dry herb blends, fold it closed and hold it in your hands a beat, press it to your chest, and then laugh at yourself. Ezra will come back.

He always comes back.

#prospect #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #year of kisses #year of themes 2023

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oogaboogasphincter · 5 months

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Deceits of the Devil (priest!marcus pike x f!reader) | chapter two: the magician

chapter summary: after the harvest dinner, you're kept up all night by a frightening plague and are bedridden for the next couple days. when sunday arrives, never did you think you would look forward to mass as much as you do now that father pike is involved. yet another illness bewilders you during the service and a knight in an alb comes to your rescue - and gives you some very interesting information. does this help you feel less alone or will it make you even more of an apostate?

word count/series~chapter-specific warnings: 6.1k+ words // MATURE (18+ ONLY) MDNI! reader uses she/her pronouns and is incredibly non-religious, slow burn taboo relationship, lots of religious/spiritual talk, horror elements and general spookiness ~ descriptions of vomiting/vomit, some light body horror, fainting, discussions of health, slow burn is slow burning, WE LEARN HIS FIRST NAME IN THE NEXT CHAPTER TRUST I WILL SPARE YOU PRECIOUS READER FROM READING FATHER PIKE AS EVERY OTHER WORD GOING FORTH

a/n: i'm not really sure if i like this chapter, i think i do?? again i'm not really sure where i'm going with this story, but i'm just trying to go with the flow and have some fun with minimalist editing. i have some ideas for later chapters but i'm not too sure how i'm going to get there yet. marcus seems a little ooc to me in this chapter, but he also only had like 30 minutes of canon screen time so i feel like i'm entitled to some creative liberties 😭 again, let me know what you liked and what you'd like to see more of in future chapters! :) *moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader has no physical description

The embroidered rosettes lining the hand towel’s edges start to warp into one dusty pink blur as you swallow back bile again. You’ve been hunched over the toilet all night, switching between dry heaving and being sick so often that you can’t tell the difference anymore. Knelt on the cold tile, with the moonlight that comes through the window making a mockery of your candlelight, you feel incredibly alone in Lucy’s house. She’s just upstairs in her room, but you don’t want to disturb her from sleep at this hour of the night. You’ll continue to wick your own cold sweat away and clean any residue of gut spillage until you’ve emptied yourself - a point you thought you had reached hours ago.

When you got back to Lucy’s you felt fine, jovial even. The innocent flirtations and budding friendship you shared with Father Pike at the harvest dinner injected a spring into your step, one so strong that Lucy commented on it with a smile. She gave you a quick tour of her inherited cottage, since you only had time to change clothes after arriving from the airport before you were sprinting off to the cathedral.

The house is all vintage charm, with quaint rooms and antiquities. Lucy’s room is upstairs, neighboring the room that belonged to her mother before she passed away. Lucy has left it untouched in its entirety because her wounds are still too tender to prod, which you respect with wholeheartedness. You didn’t ask questions when she walked past the room as soon as she introduced it. Downstairs contains the living room, which is populated with wicker and wool save for the pink velvet couch. The kitchen is embellished with mint gingham, complementing the vintage and well-kept appliances. Lucy has an en suite, so the downstairs bathroom is all yours, with its clawfoot tub beneath a massive shuttered window that overlooks the backyard’s garden. Your bedroom has the same whimsical view, albeit from a much smaller window. It seemed dark when you first walked in, but the towering beautyberry bushes just outside explained that. The room is largely taken up by the queen bed, outfitted with pine-colored linen, so you suppose that accounts for the extra shadows too. Despite the eerie silence that shrouds the house, you can see yourself living here peacefully for your visit.

The two of you said your goodnights to each other and retreated to your assigned rooms. You hung up your clothes, stocked the bathroom with your toiletries and cuddled up in the sheets for their first time cradling someone ever. The stress and excitement from your evening had drained you of energy, but somehow you couldn’t find sleep. Actually, you know exactly why you couldn’t sleep: visions of Father Pike danced in your head like goddamn sugarplums. While your visit is contingent on when you’ve deemed your stay sufficient - and when you’ve been accepted for an apartment in a city thousands of miles away from this village stuck in an orthodox time warp - Father Pike is a major draw to settle your wings.

Regardless of the opportunity that cities hold, it’s difficult for you to find people you mesh well with. You don’t make it any easier on yourself, opting to sequester yourself to university, work, your solitary bedroom, rather than put yourself out there. But that’s because when you do, you find arrogance, cruelty, entitlement. It’s easier on your heart to be alone and you enjoy your own company.

Enter: Father Pike. He was kind, kinder than anyone else at the cathedral. You might be biased, with his dreamy eyes deviously manipulatling your impression of him into a favorable one. Maybe he didn’t show you any more chivalry than any other person would have, you just spent more time with him so it unfolded naturally. But no - he felt different. You tossed from one side to the other, wracking your brain for answers and scrambling your thoughts once they had composed into investigated little piles to see if an answer was lying in plain sight instead of hidden amongst overthinking. Nevertheless, your mystery remained unsolved of any concrete reasoning.

You decided it was his honesty: the way he treated you with understanding delicacy when you revealed your unreligious core; how he laughed at your atrocious jokes that erred on the side of being sacrilegious - a genuine laugh at that; his smirk that took pleasure in the mischief shared between you two when he helped maintain your guise, one that gleamed with… dare you say it… devilishness.

Without your permission, your brain, slightly delirious with exhaustion, began orchestrating a symphony named after him. As you drifted off to sleep, the cozy scent of cinnamon filled your nose, the warmth of his gentle yet confident touch tingled all over your skin. He was like a plate of steaming waffles on a blustery morning, an everlasting hug, a book destined to be your favorite that’s hidden amongst the most unassuming shelves, just waiting to be picked up and cherished by you. You’re doomed.

A sharp pain in your stomach awakened you and the nonstop churning that followed it had you fleeing to the bathroom. The light was unresponsive when you flipped the switch, and after a few more unsuccessful tries, you barely had time to light a candle before your body unleashed itself. Thankfully you had gotten some light because you were in no shape to aim for the toilet in darkness. You attribute your upset stomach to a multitude of reasons: the nerves from seeing your best friend in-person for the first time in a year; the sudden illness you experienced; the butterflies that Father Pike gave you. You had even begun thinking that maybe there was a part of the meal that triggered you, but there’s no way you’re still harboring anything you consumed in the last twenty four hours.

Like any time you’re sick, you start trying to think of things that calm you down. Maybe if it is in fact your nerves that are acting up, some peace will help put a stop to your blight. You close your eyes and rest your head against the toilet seat, breathing in and out, images coming clearer to your mind with each breath. A field of flowers dancing underneath happy sunlight, the gentle lapping of ocean waves on a clear day, the scent of a puppy’s fur, Father Pike’s hands…

Your efforts have the complete opposite effect of your intention. The veins that web across the top of Father Pike’s hands, instead of the heady attraction they conjured earlier, make you squirm like eels caught in a trap. With every little detail about him that you try to remember comes a drowning of illness. Is he… is he making you sick?

You close your eyes as your body hurls forward into the toilet again. Sweat trickles down your temples and invades your eyes, stinging them with salt and forces you to wrench them open. When you look in the toilet, you jump back with a startle. It can’t be. You scrub your eyes with the backs of your fingers before slowly grasping the bowl with your two shaky hands and peer inside: your vomit is bright green. The pile of sludge glows inside, too weak to illuminate the bathroom, but enough to constrict your pupils out of both exposure and fear.

What the fuck?! Like roadkill, you turn away out of revulsion but can’t stop staring back at the offense through your periphery. Could you even flush this thing? It looks like radioactive waste straight out of a bad post-apocalyptic movie. With every second that passes of it just sitting there, you become frightened to a degree where you can’t stop trembling. That thing just came from your body. In the dark, now accompanied by neon ambience, your hand searches blindly while your eyes are glued to the monstrosity, like it will get up and walk away. You grab the hand towel to wipe your mouth clean, but you curl into it, muffling your sobs. You wish someone was there to tell you that you’re fine, there’s nothing wrong with you, just to hold you. Only one person clouds your mind…

More lime green empties into the toilet. You huff in frustration, completely fed up. At this point, you’ll disregard the unnatural hue of your vomit as a fluke if you could just stop and be granted the ability to sleep. As silly as it sounds, you determine there is a brown-eyed common denominator in all your illnesses. So, with the dismal energy that remains, you thwart all thoughts of him away. You shut your mind’s doors, shutter the windows, pull the blanket up and over your head and hunker down in your mental fortress. You can feel the arrows of lust being shot at the walls, incessant and ambitious in breaking you down. You don’t let them nudge one brick. They soon retreat and your castle falls silent, like there had never been a threat in the first place.

To your surprise, it works. Like magic, you’re finally granted some mercy by your body. The cramping dissipates like cotton candy in a puddle, and suddenly, you feel all better. Your muscles are a little sore from seizing and releasing, but other than that, you’re… fine. The cold sweat evaporates and the acidic taste in your mouth is neutralized. You grimace at your puke, which has reverted to its horrible organic color. You seriously don’t know which is more putrid: this horribleness or the glow stick version.

You now feel comfortable - and eager - to flush so you do. You stuff the soiled towel into the laundry bin, making a mental promise to Lucy that you’ll do your best to scrub any evidence of this night out of it. Within minutes, you’re flopping down onto your bed, huddling under the covers and finding a sleep too peaceful to follow the horrors you just suffered.

—-

Saturday you’re bedridden - against your will. You tell Lucy about your blunder, excluding the radioactivity bit, and she cancels the activities she had lined up for you two to have some fun, forcing you to stay confined to your bed. She serves you tea and keeps you on a diet of bread, apples and chicken soup, rolling her eyes at you when you beg and whine for a piece of her dessert. But, your best friend always knows best.

When you settle down for the night, a fear creeps up in you that the events of last night will repeat themselves, or even worse, go to more horrid lengths. But, thankfully, you feel like normal before bed and you stay asleep, thanking the stars and moon in your dreams. You had kept your mind clear of Father Pike, you noted.

—-

Sunday morning is here and you get out of bed jittering with excitement. Today you’re going to mass and that means you get to see Father Pike again. You laugh at your own foolishness when you realize this will be only the second time you’re seeing him, tugging your jeans up over your hips and jumping to get the job done faster. But, in a town desolate of amusement, you allow yourself to lean into the infatuation. There’s nothing wrong with a little blossoming crush, you tell yourself, untouchable or not.

Lucy chuckles when you walk into the kitchen, her cereal spoon hovering in mid-air, “Wooow,” she elongates the syllable as you twirl on your heel, showing off your incredibly mundane outfit, “I haven’t seen you up and awake this early in… how many years ago were we in kindergarten?”

“Oh, ha ha,” you grumble playfully, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal and taking the seat across from her. You keep your eyes trained on your breakfast, feeling your best friend’s gaze boring into your lips that twitch with a smile you can’t fight no matter how hard you try. The silence of the cottage, save for the awkward clanking of your spoons, rips a giggle from you that you smother with your hand.

“Don’t act like I don’t know why you’re so chipper,” she accuses conspiratorially. You look up at her, your anxious shoulders deflating with an impatient sigh.

“Just tell me what time we’re leaving.”

—-

The cathedral looks much less cozy in the brightening sunlight than it did illuminated by warm-toned street lights and candle sticks the night prior, but it’s no less majestic. There are crows perched on the roof, cawing a morning chorus. The structure’s hulking size seems less threatening by their presence in addition to the pale backdrop of the morning. The inky blackness of the night sky has opened to reveal a powder blue, bouncing off camel coats and cherry scarves that had been twisted into muddy smudges and blood ties at the harvest dinner. Even the cathedral’s inner hull seems more like an endless cavern than a sinister vacuum, with your curiosity being stimulated by all that you could not see before; what lies inside all of the corridors, the hidden passageways, the arched doors? Maybe that’s something you could ask Father Pike.

All of the newfound loveliness aside, it doesn’t erase the feeling that you’re in a place where you don’t belong. You didn’t quite think through all the ramifications of seeking out your holy crush, but who doesn’t forfeit their rationale in the face of infatuation? You’re always open to learning, especially about cultures that you’re not a part of, but you didn’t think mass would be this boring.

Lucy briefed you about when to stand, sit, stand again, when to sing and when to be quiet. So no one would suspect a thing, you follow along like a lamb with the same robotic obedience that everyone else does. You’re surprised to find personal dismay at the lack of life behind the hymns that the other goers recite, nor is there any in Father Thorn’s sermon. It saddens you that these people dedicate their lives to this higher cause, boast about how it divinely guides them to choose the right paths in life, only for them to sing with as much enthusiasm as you do. Father Thorn stands painfully erect, addressing the room like a schoolteacher whose monotone and thoughtless eyes make you think that maybe there was some reluctance in his profession of choice. From the piercing glare he gave you yesterday, you know better than to imagine questioning his integrity lest you want your severed head deposited into his goblet.

Father Gala flanks the droning priest in a gilded throne that must serve no other purpose than to support the elderly Father’s aching bones. He listens on with a permanent soft smile, flickering his eyes amongst the audience with visible cheerfulness. His eyes lit up when he noticed you in the crowd and gave you a friendly nod, which you returned with amicability. Lucy nudged you on the shoulder when he glanced away with a whisper, “Look, you’ve made a friend.”

And on Father Thorn’s other side stands who you’ve been aching to see for a whole of thirty six hours. He had taken very seriously to carry out the beginning demands of mass, saying his prayers and following the proposed movements with an almost militaristic adherence. But since the reading of scriptures began, his shoulders relaxed and his fingers interlocked in front of himself with peace. His brown eyes gaze absentmindedly to the narthex behind you and you so desperately want to get up close and see how the sunlight that streams in through all angles of the building hit his irises. Do they shimmer with threads of gold, or do umber chasms allude an unreachable depth?

Your crush seems eons away from where you sit a few rows back from the sanctuary. The sermon fizzles out to a barely noticeable hum as a tornado of names rushes through your head while you assess your preferred priest and try to imagine which would fit him best. While you’re intent on respecting his title and maintaining proper etiquette for someone you literally just met a few days ago (and internally cringing at the speed of which this infatuation has snowballed) you have to at least dream of what you could call him.

Is he a David? No, he’s too young for such an old name. But it is biblical and maybe he’s a junior, or the third or fourth. Dave as a nickname is where you draw the line. That just feels all wrong.

Possibly something strong and sturdy, like Joel? Eh, Joel sounds too ornery and old again.

Go simpler, you think, Jack. No offense to all the great Jacks of the world, but it would be a shame if this exceptional man was dubbed so plainly.

And none of these options sound good with his last name, which you know as fact: David Pike, Joel Pike, Jack Pike. No, no, definitely not.

Cutting into your brainstorm, you agree that Father Pike can wear anything and look great. He has his usual black priest garb on, but layered atop is a white robe whose seams are trimmed with a red and gold pattern of tiles. If you’re being completely honest… it’s a little heinous. The fabric looks starched beyond belief and the decoration screams of yester-millenia. But, somehow, his virility isn’t snatched by the drabness. His shoulders maintain that delectable broadness you noticed at the dinner, along with a poise that is mannered yet youthful. The golden threads shimmer adorably in the sunlight with the fidgets of his wrist as he fiddles with the side of his thumbnail.

As if on cue, his eyes land on you just when your cheeks break out in a heat. Your heart jumps to your throat momentarily but is lulled back down to your chest by his soft, tender smile and the identifying gleam in his gaze. It’s as if you’re his puppet and he’s pulling the strings to shape your lips into a smile to match his own, completely unable to control your body. You think you can’t find him cuter but then he’s upturning his hand so his palm faces you and he waves. Again with your bodily autonomy extinct, you wave back with the shy nature of a blushing virgin.

Lucy notices your hand first and her eyes are quick to follow your tunnel vision. She takes your wrist and lowers it to your lap, glancing at you with that funny mixture of scorn and encouragement that only a best friend can give. “Not now,” she whispers quickly before returning her attention to Thorn’s speech with the shadow of a smirk. Father Pike still looks at you.

Your mind drifts deliriously to a part of mass that Lucy called communion, when the parishioner metaphorically drinks the blood and eats the body of Christ, or drinks wine from the goblet and eats a wafer from the hand of a priest. The seduction engulfs your mind like a virus thinking about sipping from a goblet that Father Pike holds in his strong hands, meeting his gaze while your throat bobs with drink. While taking the wafer into your mouth as he places it on your tongue, maybe he’s slow to withdraw and your lips would catch on his finger…

Lucy taps your bicep to indicate to you it’s time to stand again. Father Thorn’s voice is suddenly much louder, booming in your ears and reverberating in your chest, down to the ground beneath your feet.

“God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made.”

A fickle tingling lunges through your veins, sending your nervous system into a familiar panic. When have you felt this peculiar feeling before? You feel ill, like you want to curl up on the floor and empty yourself, or passing out would be an easier option. Oh no.

“For us men and for our salvation he came down from heaven,”

Everyone bends at the waist, bowing towards the sanctuary, but you remain standing upright, frozen. Your eyes bulge with wild terror. The blood drains from your face. Father Pike meets your gaze and he furrows his brow in confusion at first, before you watch him be consumed with brazen worry.

“And by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man.”

Father Pike disappears from your sight as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

—-

You come to groggily with a lukewarm cloth being pressed to your temple. A low, firm voice is muffled and distant in your ear despite its closeness, but you absorb its warmth intravenously, “Hey, hey, hey…”

You can hear his strain to remain calm and steady. He drifts away for a moment, you feel your feet being propped up on a pillow, and his breath is back at your ear, ghosting over your dewy cheek.

Under the safeguard of questionable consciousness and the panicked edge in his soul, he lets an endearment slip, “Wake up, pretty girl, come on…” he whispers in an increasingly pleading tone. His timbre does the opposite of his intention and keeps you wanting to stay asleep, to writhe and drown in his comfort within the darkness of your mind. In your dreams, you can be his pretty girl.

You roll onto your side and grumble, fighting to stay in your head. The unforgiving surface you’re laid out on shoves against your bones but you remain stubborn. The man at your back chuckles under his breath. He pries your arm from your side and overturns it in his hands, cradling it delicately, and you wish to feel those arms and hands encapsulate you, engulf you like a snake and constrict. But then he’s pinching the tender patch of your inner bicep, jolting you awake. You tear your arm back and by the offense on your face, he knows you’re back in reality.

Someone had moved you from the spot you had collapsed to this room, empty of anyone besides Father Pike. It’s quiet and dull, exposed stone comprising both the walls and floor. You’re sprawled out on a large and long wooden table, atop a sweetly placed blanket that unfortunately doesn’t do much to cushion. Wardrobes and other tables dot the rest of the room, illuminated by the small and sparse stained glass windows that line the perimeter.

Father Pike assesses your mindful curiosity and deems you sound and coherent. He decides to awaken you further with a little well-intentioned abrasiveness.

“Are you going to do this every time I see you?”

“I hope not,” you sit up and Father Pike is quick to put a hand on your back, steadying you. Only now with your eyes open do you realize just how incredibly close he is to you; his lips parted with apprehension are mere inches from yours. You meet his eyes and you were right - they glow in the sunlight, the caramel streaks highlighted and accompanied by obscured taupe that shelters his innermost secrets. You flinch away imperceptibly, afraid of your own arousal.

“Are you-” he has to clear his throat, turning away to spare you before he tries again. His voice was tight with nerves.

“Do you feel okay?” Much smoother but there’s still a hint of constraint. He’s softened from their teasing.

You think for a moment, mentally check in with your body then answer honestly, “Yes, I’m okay.” And you are. Besides a subtle ache on your outer thigh, which you assume broke your fall, you feel completely normal.

Father Pike stands from where he knelt and puts the back of his hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. You try your very best not to drench your panties. “Do you feel any pressure in your head? Any nausea? Do you feel dizzy while sitting right now?” It’s a barrage of questions, but in his comforting tone it doesn’t feel anywhere near overwhelming or like an interrogation.

“No pressure, no nausea. I feel a tiny bit dizzy, but nothing like before. And after all, I did hit my- did I hit my head?”

“No, your thigh hit the ground first. It looked like you twisted your knee on your way down. Thankfully, because if you hadn’t, you would’ve hit your head first.”

Now that he mentions it, your knee does feel a bit funny. Hopefully it’ll just bruise over and won’t cause any lingering issues.

Your thoughts are obliterated when Father Pike takes your face in his palms, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. He’s checking your pupil size, but it sends an unwarranted, delectable chill up your spine nonetheless. There goes your attempts to avoid a mess between your thighs. You gulp foolishly and he looks at your throat bob. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip before sealing his mouth closed. A habit you can picture him doing any time he’s deep in thought, this time it’s dipped in eroticism.

“Does being unknowledgeable about the church really stress you out this much?” He’s caring, concerned. Condescension, intolerance and disdain are in a different galaxy entirely than his intentions. His eyes bore into yours considerably, assessing you like you did him earlier. Trying to figure you out.

You gather your thoughts, taking into account the near-fainting spell you had on Friday and trying with all your might to remember only the vital details of what happened during the night after you got home. Coming up with no definite answer, you shrug, “No, this felt completely unrelated. It was just my body acting out of order.” You had felt uncomfortable during the sermon, but not fearful. It didn’t wrack your nerves to sit there and listen to illusionary words like it had when Father Gala shook your hand for the first time. But even then, your illness had come after the stress. Your sea of anxiety had been drained and what came to be revealed at the bottom was a previously undiscovered chest of volatile poisons. They felt correlated, perhaps, but not connected.

Father Pike’s worry remains in his face like he doesn’t believe you. Not because he thinks you’re lying, but almost like… there’s something you don’t understand that’s happening. Suddenly it feels a little awkward between you two, with the cause blurry. You decide it’s best to elaborate so you both can have a few more pieces to aid in finding a solution.

The door is a good distance away from Father Pike’s back and looks as though it’s made of the sturdiest oak to ever grow, but you still don’t trust it. If someone were to lean their ear against the other side, in addition to the enshrouding silence, they could clearly hear what is being said. Mass must have ended a while ago, but the cathedral is open to roaming parishioners, tourists and other inquiring minds. You lean towards Father Pike and he comes to stand at the edge of the table. Lowering your voice, not nearly to a whisper but close enough, you confide in him again,

“But, I won’t lie. I feel as if one wrong move will get me permanently exiled.”

His expression doesn’t change. The neutrality of it is a little disconcerting, actually, with the way he just remains standing there with his fingertips perched on the edge of the wood, until he retracts himself to where he had been a few feet away. He doesn’t deny nor confirm your feelings, his eyes downcast.

He clears his throat again. “Are you anemic? Diabetic? Do you have any reason why you’d have fainting spells?” His tone is steeped in worry, rushed. Like he just wants a clear-cut answer so that neither of you have to keep guessing or digging deeper.

And he’s almost a little… aggravated? His words are acute and directed at you, like you’re suddenly the reason to blame. It is your body that’s being troublesome, but you’d like to know what’s been going on with it recently just as much as he does. Even if you did, it’s not your responsibility to tell him, nor your fault for its antics. With his sight still turned away, busy adjusting your feet on the pillow, you furrow your brows in disbelief and make your scoff come off as animated, playful, “I didn’t know you doubled as a doctor, Father Pike.”

Luckily, that seems to put him at ease. The bothered creases in his forehead smooth away and he looks back up at you with a humble smile, as if to say he’s sorry for getting so suddenly worked up. He rests his hand on your shin, so naturally, but he takes it away the same moment and puts his arms at his sides. You know he wanted to leave it there, the flicker of guilt across his face evident. You rein yourself back, tightening the restraints that have come loose on your attraction; you don’t want to break him.

His voice reverts to its baseline calmness, “I don’t. My brother is a doctor and I would help him review for tests, so that gave me a lot of free training and insight. Just being around him, the physician’s mindset started to rub off on me. They see things in such a peculiar, analytical way, so different from my own. Logic prevails over everything… it’s helped me to decipher who really needs the help and who doesn’t.”

Oh. Such a strange thing to hear Father Pike admit that… it gets your gears going.

You approach it as gently as you can, while still feeding your curiosity, “Hey… aren’t you guys supposed to believe that Christ can cure anything?”

You don’t think you mean to bat your eyelashes at him provocatively but you do. He smirks, shakes his head with a chuckle that more or less comes out as an amused exhale from his nose. He cuts your boldness back down to a humble level, “I thought you didn’t know much about the church?”

Oh? His accusatory smugness mirrors yours. Two can play at this game, apparently.

“I don’t, but I know enough that you guys put all your faith into your, well, faith.”

The waning dizziness you felt earlier has officially rid itself, so you feel it’s safe to sit up on the table. Father Pike takes a seat as well in a chair that he’s pulled from aside one of the wardrobes, positioning it close to you so that he’s not too far should you feel woozy again.

“Well, yes…” He’s thinking, does that godforsaken thing with his tongue on his lip again. Then comes the confession.

“Some of the parishioners… they’re painfully alone. The only people they talk to are family who either forget their existence half the time or enable them. Being alone all the time, you need to entertain yourself with something. They’ve been reading the same scriptures for their entire lives, it plays behind their eyelids whenever they close; it’s in their dreams.” He takes a heavy breath, steadying himself for the brutal honesty he’s about to lay out to you. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this naked before in his life.

“It’s not like the Bible gets an update,” you kid quietly. That gets him. The skin around his eyes crinkles as Father Pike laughs heartily, nodding his head, “Exactly.” He echoes you with amusement, “It’s not like the Bible gets an update,” his smile grows fonder. You mourn the joy that leaves his face when it’s replaced with a solemn frown.

“As much as they don’t want to admit it, the people of this town are like any other. They yearn for change. They need something new, fresh, to stimulate their minds, or at the very least, a distraction from their loneliness. So, on a very normal day, their knee starts to hurt. And then as the days go on and they do their usual tasks, the knee begins to hurt more. It worsens until they fool themselves into walking with a limp, saying that they can’t live their excruciatingly mundane lives anymore. Because they desperately want a change, no matter if it’s a hindrance.

“Sometimes, pity is king.

“They refuse to go to the doctor without the church’s approval. They come and see to me, or one of the other Fathers, and we talk through their ailments. I say a blessing or two, and on their way home, suddenly that appointment they were pleading for has lost all urgency. They’ve been miraculously cured by us, or God. But we’re not doing any radical, magical healing here. Don’t get me wrong, there are very real illnesses that affect our parish.”

He pauses to look around the room, as if someone has slipped through the cracks in the rock and hears his rational disagreement as something obscenely blasphemous. His voice is low and wary, but you’re proud to detect a streak of confidence when he talks about his personal beliefs.

“The others here, they shun modern medicine. They believe what you said, that all things can be cured through Christ. But… that’s not entirely right to me. There are people who need more… pragmatic cures. Then there are others who all they need is a little motivation from the spirit.”

You never thought you’d be empathizing with a priest over feelings of exclusion, no less somewhere in the heart of a cathedral, surrounded by religious paraphernalia. It doesn’t feel like Father Pike is baiting you to say that the church is a farce just so he can blackmail you later. His quick, breathless words speak for themselves; he’s been dying to show someone his heart. But are you really the first outsider to cross his path? There has had to have been someone who wandered into Carmeltree unknowingly or a resident that didn’t readily accept the teachings that they began being indoctrinated with since birth. Father Pike’s motive doesn’t seem malicious, but it’s unclear.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands together with a smile amused by the simplicity of his answer, “I have one of your secrets, and now you have one of mine.”

Dry chuckles fill the room. “That’s a pretty big secret,” you joke.

“What about it?”

“Well,” worry crosses your face, imagining what the Bible wavers would do if they heard what Father Pike is spilling across you now, “if anyone else heard it, about their priest, well, you’d be…”

“Exiled?”

“Yes. Mamed, called a fraud or a non-believer.”

“Well that’s incorrect. I’m a believer.”

“Not by their standards, you aren’t.”

“See why I’ve confided in you?”

A steady wave of recognition settles in the air. Two people with their morals in line but would be labeled heathens by the rest of the conservative population have established a safehouse in one another to retreat to if need be. Lucy was right - you have made a friend, she just had the wrong Father.

The elderly one’s cane taps ring out in the gaping corridor outside your room, alerting you and your friend that your divulgence must end. The stiffness returns to his back, squaring his shoulders underneath that heavy-looking alb as he stands and scribbles something on a piece of paper.

Don’t think about the sweat on his skin. Dappling his muscles, collecting in pools until they runneth over and stream down in little rivulets…

He helps you to your feet with a hand in yours, but it’s shoving the paper into your palm before you have the chance to drool over its warmth. “Here’s the town doctor’s details. If you feel unwell or the fainting persists, please go see him. I don’t-”

There’s a knock at the door. “Father Pike?”

He makes a comically fearful face at you, clenching his bared teeth and widening his eyes, snapping to put a finger to his lips when he elicits your desired giggles.

“One moment please!”

He ushers you to a door at the back corner of the room, leading to one of the many magnificent courtyards incorporated into the cathedral.

You turn back on the step to take one last look at him, “Thank you for all your help.”

He takes your hand in his own two, like his Father before him.

“You’re in my prayers.”

You go to leave, but he murmurs urgently, leaning out of the doorframe, “Come back tomorrow. I can help strengthen your act.”

He winks at you.

A friend, you remind yourself. He’s just a friend. The giddiness that bubbles up from your heart to your throat begs to differ.

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purplesurveys · 4 days

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1852

When did you last see someone you know in public? I saw Pau at UPTC last weekend which was a nice surprise.

Do you enjoy going to the dentist? Does anyone, like, *actively* enjoy being at the dentist? Haha but I mean have no qualms with dentist appointments; I'll say that much. I find the procedures quite soothing anyway. Even if it's to pull out a tooth or something, I'm fine with, since they're just there to help out.

When did you last eat something you didn’t like? I tried the chili cheese flavor from Potato Corner for the first time, but I ended up not really liking it that much since it was way too spicy.

Do you think you’d survive if zombies took over the world? Well, probably not. I'd lack the street smarts.

When did you last hang out with a bunch of friends at one time? Sometime last year, can't remember when exactly. I saw my college friends.

What kind of music is your least favorite? Country.

Are you and your best friend complete opposites? Mmm I wouldn't say completely. We have some stark contrasts here and there but we also have a few similar beliefs/hobbies/interests.

Would people around you say you’re regularly a mean person? I don't think so. They might tell you I'm cranky or moody, because I am; but probably (and I hope lol) not mean.

Do you like the colour yellow at all? Some shades are pleasing to the eye but overall I wouldn't pick yellow as a first color for, like, anything.

If you were to write a novel, what would it be about? I'll just stick to writing a memoir.

How many times have you logged in to Bzoink? (it has a counter) I've never had a Bzoink account, although I used to be a lurker. RIP :(

Are you currently pretending to be someone’s friend? No, that's an awful thing to do.

Are you an impatient person? Definitely can be.

Are you afraid to watch movies that have sex scenes with your friends? No.

Who sings the last song you listened to? Hayley Williams.

Why do you think some actors don't want to see their movies/shows? They're highly self-critical and are never pleased with their performance. At least that's how I know it to be from pro wrestlers.

Do you think fortune tellers are the devil’s messengers (haha)? Not necessarily, but what I think of them is that they are scammers.

Would you rather use napkins or paper towels? Idk, napkins I guess. I don't really have a preference.

Do you go to the pool in the summer time very often? No cause it's such a hassle to clean up and rid your body of all the chlorine lol (or if at the beach, all the sand). I just prefer to have the aircon on and stay indoors, away from the sun as much as possible.

Have you ever had a serious issue involving your eyes? Apart from the time a distant relative purposely hurled a glass bottle purposely targeting my eye because idk he is an unhinged little fuck, there's just my eyesight which is progressively getting worse.

Have you ever watched South Park? Who’s your favorite character? I've never seen an episode.

Do you have sensitive teeth? I have one lower tooth which has a tendency to get sensitive.

Do you enjoy or hate snow days? Why is this your choice? Uhm no but we have typhoon days which I guess is the closest thing? I selfishly liked them because it meant suspended classes.

Do you turn pale when you get sick? I don't think so, because I've never been told that.

Does it bother you to get shots in the mouth? Does it hurt? I've only gotten those when I needed to get wisdom tooth extractions, and in those cases I was just mostly grateful because it meant my pain was going to come to an end lol.

When did you last talk seriously with one of your parents? Few months ago when I was still crying and confiding to my dad about work.

What is the day of the week currently? Tuesday.

Is anything exciting coming up in the next three months? Jin coming back, BTS' 11th anniversary, and our family trip to Vietnam...all happening within the same week hahaha.

Do you ever borrow money from someone? No.

Do you know anyone who tells every single thing you say? I don't think so.

When did you last kiss someone on the cheek? Who was it? I only do that to my dogs these days hahahahahaha.

Why do you think people like Lady Gaga so much? She was unafraid to be different and to stir conversations, especially in her earlier years.

Do you have a lot of enemies, or not so much? I'm an adult.

Can you count backwards from 100 without a mistake? I'm sure I can.

Do you have any friends you’ve had since birth? Nah.

Do you care if your friends talk badly about you? If they want to do so they can say it to my face, otherwise I wouldn't consider them a friend.

Would you rather drink out of a straw or just the cup alone? Straw.

Does anyone ever say they miss you often? Nope.

Would you rather become a wizard or a vampire, if you had the choice? I don't care.

Is there anyone out there who has made you feel miserable? I can think of two off the top of my head.

Do you have a problem answering personal questions? Not for the most part as I am generally an open book. The only people I'd feel hesitant towards would be my immediate family haha.

What color is the vacuum-cleaner in your house? Maroon and grey.

Have you already moved out of your parents’ house? Nope.

Are your parents divorced, married or separated? Married.

Have you ever thought you might just have obsessive compulsive disorder? Yes.

Do you think it’s rude to text someone else while on a date? Idk and idc about dating etiquette, but in general texting here and there for me is fine. It's only rude when the cellphone use becomes excessive because then it's like why'd we even go out?

What is the funniest movie you’ve ever seen? White fuckin Chicks.

What are your views on our current president? He's a little shit.

Is it awkward to see your best friend’s parents out in public? No. I'd run to them and give them a hug if that's the case. They're already considered family.

Who is the person you talk to the most in your house? Sister.

Is there a television show out there that you never miss? I watch Raw weekly, but that's pretty much it.

What movie have you seen too many times to be healthy? Two for the Road and Room.

What are the last two digits of your phone number? Nope.

Does it creep you out to see people with mullets? No.

What is your biggest responsibility in your household? I'd say the task I take the most seriously is keeping the dogs' health in check and taking them to the vet. Shots and checkups aren't cheap, and that's a responsibility I'm more than happy to cover.

How cold did it get where you live, last winter? Back in Jan-Feb in our winterless country we reached temps of 24-25C, which was a delight.

Do you ever wish you could go back in time to redo something? No.

Ever accidentally pull out a filling from your tooth? Nope.

Do you ever wonder what your exes are doing? Not really.

Have you ever been caught in a huge lie with your parents? Sure.

Do you ever listen to the radio anymore? Only when the Bluetooth decides to be a brat and the car can't locate my phone.

Does it bother you to have personal conversations with people? No, I like insightful talks.

Ever ride in a limo? When did you last do so? I don't think I have.

Do any of your body parts hurt at this moment in time? My tummy kind of does since I wore super tight jeans all day hahah.

Are you sober at the time being? Yes.

Do any of your friends constantly do things to annoy you? No.

When did you last eat a Starburst? What color was it? I can't even remember. I don't encounter them ever.

Have you ever lied to someone & said they could sing when they couldn’t? No, because everyone I know who's willing to sing in public are actually great singers lol.

Do you ever call backstabbers out on what they do? If I'm comfortable enough with them, sure.

How many people in the world do you trust? Three.

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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Yandere Rei Hurting Reader Pt2

Yes yes. Its out now. I won't delete this one. Enjoy!

Part 1 is here. Part 3 here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Todoroki Clan:

It had been so awful at first. So hard for everyone to adjust to the new change. Of course, it was especially difficult for you to adapt to the new circumstances.

When you had first woken up after the unfortunate incident, approximately 3 days later, you didn't expect to be home so soon. You expected- you hoped that you would wake up in the hospital and have them call the authorities. Then again, you also didn't expect never being able to use your eyes again.

Shotou was the first one to notice when you had woken up from your coma. He hadn't left your side since the accident. He jumped from his seat beside you and held the glass of water to your lips when you tried to speak. The family came rushing in when he called for them, announcing that you had woken up. You could hear Fuyumi and her crying tears of joy as Natsuo came to check your vitals. You knew your eyes were bandaged, which was expected because of the hot oil that was poured on them, but when you asked Natsuo when they were coming off, he went silent. Your heart sank when he told you what had happened, how your eyes were fucking fried to the point that the arteries supplying them were also destroyed, which meant they couldn't be replaced, ever.

You screamed a lot that day; you would've cried but you didn't have any tear ducts. You didn't let anyone touch you at first, especially Rei. You would scream, throw yourself away from her if you felt her come near you. Eventually, Natsuo put some sort of tranquilliser into your IV, finally calming you down.

Being blind was hard, you knew that. But you didn't know that it would also be this humiliating. After the accident, they had starting infantalizing you even more, doing the most miniscule things for you.

Shotou would be the first person who greeted you in the morning and usually the last person to put you to bed at night. He would carry you around everywhere you go, telling you its simply unsafe for you to walk on your own. Sure you bumped into the furniture a few times and it was a bit hard maintaining your balance, but that didn't mean you needed him to carry you around everywhere. You had asked him to get you a cane, but he only said "why do you need a stick when you have me? Just tell me where you want to go".

Each morning, Shotou would take you down the stairs to the toilet and more often than not, have Fuyumi come and help you, even for brushing your teeth. Then he would take you to the dining table where everyone is waiting for you. Fuyumi would give your breakfast to Shotou, who would cut it up and feed you. Once you're done eating, you would wait for Shotou to finish his food. During breakfast, everyone would make small talk while you remained quiet. After everyone's finished eating, Fuyumi and Rei would take dishes to sink. You would've helped, but everyone's pretty much forbidden you from entering the kitchen.

Shotou would then carry you either to his room or the living room, where he would turn on the TV and tell you what's happening. But since this always makes you remember how you don't have eyes, he would usually just read you some book. Somehow, they're always about princesses and fairytales. You were getting sick of hearing them.

Fuyumi would later come and fetch you, and take you to your bath. While you would be cleaning yourself, after politely declining help from Fuyumi each time, she would be out preparing your clothes for the day. She would explain to you what you're wearing and how you look, and how she's going to style your hair. As if any of these things mattered to you. But even if they did, its not like you'd have a say in anything.

You still remember the first time you were taking a bath, after finally convincing Fuyumi to let you have the "luxury" to clean yourself up. You finally had some time for yourself, alone and away from the rest of the house. You sank in the warm water in the tub, allowing yourself to relax. The privacy was comforting, but not long lasting, as you felt cold hands touch your shoulders. In an instant, you jumped away screaming. "GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!" Rei tried coming closer to you but you kept on screeching at the top of your lungs, alerting the whole house. "FUYUMI! SHOTOU! GET HER AWAY! SHOTOU GET HER AWAY!" At that point you didn't even care if they saw you nude, they just need to save you from her. The siblings rushed to the bathroom and upon seeing your huddled form in the corner and their mother sobbing, Fuyumi hastily covered you with a towel while Shotou took Rei out of there.

Shotou tried to make you understand that Rei was just trying to help you. That she just missed you and wanted to take care of you. He was basically telling you not to be afraid of her, and that your trauma is not valid. You stopped talking to him after that, only spoke when absolutely necessary.

Natsuo would pick you up after your bath while Fuyumi went to make lunch. He would check your eyes (or lack there of), put on some ointments and replace the bandages with fresh ones. Fuyumi would come with your lunch and after she'd fed you, Natsuo would give you your medicine. They always make you sleepy, so you'd be put down for a nap.

Dabi wasn't always around, but when he was, he was still the asshole he was before. He would move your things to different places, or place stuff in your way so that'd you'd trip (he always caught you before you face planted), all so that you would ask him for help he could get a rise out of you. But you would just sigh and move on.

Enji liked to take you to the garden and read you books and newspapers. It was alright you guess, but you wanted to do something yourself, especially since they still didn't take you out of the house. You had asked him for a Braille, but he only replied "You don't need to stress yourself with that. I'll always be there to read you whatever you want."

If Enji's running late, then Shotou would take you to the swings in the garden, pushing you as he tells what happened at school or with friends. After dinner, you’d be forced to spend some more time with your siblings, before you’d be tucked into bed.

That has been the routine for the past 6 months since your accident. And the family really felt like everything was returning to normal. It was, for them. This is how they always wanted things to happen: you, locked up in the house while they stripped you of all autonomy and infantalized you to the point where it was harming you, both physically and mentally. Your body was growing weak, your muscles got easily fatigued from their lack of use. And the pills Natsuo gave you didn't really help the case. They made you sleepy, and you think they even caused hallucinations since you felt like someone was in your room or someone was playing with your hair.

Even though you were stuck at home all day, you still never talked to Rei. Well she tried, but you would be the one to always flinch away. She wouldn't address herself when she entered your room, but you would still feel her lurking around the corners. And why should you acknowledge her? Especially after what she's done?

Enji wasnt ignorant of your condition. He could see how quiet you had gotten, and how scared you were of Rei. He was getting worried for you. What were you thinking about? Enji knew if he didn't talk to you, things will get worse.

You were sitting by the lounge window with Fuyumi who was telling you about her day. Fuyumi greeted him when he came in the room. "Hey, dad!" Enji nodded. "Fuyumi, would you leave us? I'd like to talk to Y/n." Fuyumi nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before she left the room, only Enji noticing how you stiffened at her affection. He sat beside you and cleared his throat. "How are you?" "Fine. You?"you softly asked. "I'm good, too. I wanted to talk to you about something. About...your mom." "My mom's dead." Enji cleared his throat. "I meant Rei." "Oh. What about her?" "Why haven't you been talking to her?" You remained silent. “What happened was an accident-” “It wasnt an accident. An accident is spilling milk. Not pouring hot oil in someone’s eyes.” Enji knew this was coming.“She didn’t do it on purpose-” You cut him off again. “She did! She knew exactly what she was doing.” “Why would she do that?” “I don’t know. She hates me or something.” Enji grabbed your hand gently. “You know that's not true. Rei loves you very much and she cares about you a lot.” You didn't say anything. “Do you remember the day you came to our house?” You nodded. “Yeah. It was a few days after my parents funeral.” “Yes. And do you remember what Rei said to you?” You stiffened before nodding again. “She said that she may not be my real mother, but she’ll love me more than anyone ever has and ever will. Always.” “Yes. And has she not? Has she not loved you more than anyone?” You nodded slowly as Enji continued. “Between you and me, she’s always favoured you among all of your siblings.” You smiled at that. “So, are you willing to give your mother a chance?” You paused for a few minutes. “I- I cant.” Enji sighed. “Look. I know you’re scared. I understand. I know you want to blame Rei for what happened, but believe me when I tell you it wasn't her fault. It was an accident.” You shook your head. “And what if another “accident” like that happens again? And what if I dont survive this time? And what if-” Your voice broke down. Enji pulled you into his lap. “It won't. I promise. And if something like that does occur, I’ll be there to stop it.” Enji pressed a kiss to your hair. “I’ll save you. I promise.”

With Enji's persuasion, you had started mending your relationship with Rei again. Sure, you still flinched when she touched you and you were still hesitant to initiate conversations with her, but none of that bothered Rei. You were trusting her again, and she was more than happy to do more on her part to make you comfortable.

And you won't lie, but life was better with Rei. She knew when Dabi or Shotou were becoming too overbearing, or when Natsuo was fussing over you for no reason. She was there to stop Fuyumi from chatting your ear away, and knew when to stop Enji from feeding you too many sweets.

And Enji could see that Rei was sorry for what she did. He saw how she would often massage ointments on your face, her fingers barely tracing the charred area around your eyes before pulling away quickly. And other times, like today, as he stood by your bedroom door, he saw how gentle she was with you as she tucked you into your bed. He kissed his wife once she had left your room. "How are my girls doing?" Enji asked Rei in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake you up. Rei smiled. "Good." They slowly started walking back to their room. "Shes an angel, Enji. So sweet." Enji hummed in agreement. "Can I tell you something?" Enji stopped and turned to face his wife. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm kind of glad what happened...to her." Rei was smiling. "She's so much better like this. So docile now. I...I don't regret what I did, you know?" Enji's blood ran cold. "Rei... dont tell me- you didn't do that on purpose, did you?" Rei nodded, a bit too eagerly. "I know, I know. It wasn't ethical. And if I could, I would've taken away her pain in a heartbeat. But you must agree that its much better now, right?" Enji couldn't believe what Rei was confessing. "I mean, look at her now. She doesn't even try running away. She knows- she feels safer with us, inside." Rei sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I thought that maybe it wouldn't come to this. I thought that after Touya took care of her parents, she'd be a bit more scared to be outside on her own. That's why we told her they died in a car crash." Rei rested her cheek on his chest. "It scares me what I'm willing to do for her, Enji." Enji knew Dabi had something to do with what happened to your parents, but knowing Rei had a hand in it too, or more precisely, she was the one who told Touya to get rid of them. Enji didn't know what to do with this new side of his wife. But he did know he had to keep her hidden from you, so he ushered his wife to their bedroom, not knowing you had already heard them.

You had realised a couple of things that night. One, Rei and Dabi had murdered your parents. Two, Rei pouring the hot oil in your eyes wasn't some sort of psychotic episode. Three, Enji and the others were going to take Rei's side, no matter what.

A few weeks later, your birthday came around. The siblings had left the house to get some things for your birthday party, leaving you in the care of their parents. Rei was in the kitchen cooking up a whole feast for you, while you sat beside Enji in the lounge as he read the newspaper. Enji had already given you your present. It was giant teddy bear with chocolates from Belgium. They were utterly delicious. When you stood up, he asked you where you were going. You pointed at the box of chocolates in your hand. "I'm going to share them with, mom. Unless, thats not okay?"you asked meekly. Enji still wasn't all that comfortable with letting you and Rei be alone, especially after her confession. But... if he doesn't let you go to her alone, you'll always be afraid of her. And its not like Rei will hurt you again, right? Besides, the kitchen is just down the hallway. He's sure nothing will happen. He nodded. "Okay. Should I walk you there?" "No. Its down the hall. I think I'll be fine on my own." Enji then allowed you to go, telling you to call for him if you need anything.

Rei was chopping up some vegetables when she heard your footsteps. She turned around to find you standing just outside the kitchen. "Hey, angel! What are you doing here?" You remained outside the kitchen as you spoke. "I wanted to share these chocolates dad got for me. W-would you like some?" Oh, you're so kind. Rei quickly wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before walking towards you and leading you to the dining room in front of the kitchen. She helped you sit down before taking a seat next to you. "You want me to have your chocolates? But didn't daddy gift them to you?" You bit your lip as you replied. "Well yes, but I- I wanted to share them with you so that I could- I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. And for loving me. I would've gotten you something else but I'm not allowed to go outside..."you mumbled the last sentence, but that didn't matter as Rei quickly hugged you. "Oh honey! You're so sweet!" Rei took a piece of chocolate from the box that you had extended towards her. "And these chocolates are so delicious! Daddy really loves to spoil you, doesnt he?" Rei pinched your cheek gently. You smiled. "I'm glad you liked them. Especially, after all you've done for me. You deserve them more than I do, honestly." Rei stopped at that. "Honey...what are you talking about?" You smiled. "What? Am I not saying the truth? You deserve these chocolates, and all the sweets and flowers and medals for being the best mother." You popped a chocolate into your mouth before continuing. "After all, the criteria is very high. You need to not only have the intent to kill for your child, but you also have to commit murder. Then kidnap your child and force her to bide to your rules. And if she misbehaves, you must punish her as well, right? Because good behaviour gets chocolate," You popped another chocolate into your mouth. "And bad behaviour gets your eyes fried."

Rei just stared at you in disbelief. H-how did you- you didn't hear them talking last night did you? Or did Dabi tell you? Rei stared at you as you ate another piece of chocolate. "I wonder after you've killed me, will you be given chocolates or flowers?" "D-darling, w-what are you saying? I would never hurt you!" You chuckled darkly. "No no. You've done it before and I know you'll do it again. After all, it scares you what you're willing to do for me." You caressed her cheeks, and when you felt her tears, you wiped them. "I'm not saying you have the intention to kill me. No, you'll just hurt me again, another little accident, but this time I won't survive. I just hope you'll bury me somewhere where there's a lot of fresh air, maybe on a hill with a view?" Rei finally broke down at that, falling to her knees as she clung to your legs. "Please! Y/n please forgive me! Please baby, I- I just wanted the best for you. I don't want you to die, I- I promise I'll never hurt you again! I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Please baby, I'll do anything. Just forgive me!" You sighed. "Anything? I don't think you mean that." Rei nodded her vigorously, tears falling everywhere. "I do! I do! Just tell me what to do!" You tapped your chin, pretending to think. "Bring a knife. A sharp one." Rei's eyes widened. "W-What?" "Well...its only right for you to be punished as well. To atone for your sins, right?" "O-okay." Rei went to the kitchen and brought a big knife with her. "Lock the door." She did as you told her. You extended your palm, waiting for her to place the knife. She did. You stood up, right in front of Rei. You told her to stand against a wall, and she followed. You played with the sharp end if the knife. "I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you so bad. I want you to feel the pain, the hell you've put me through." This is it, Rei thought, you're going to kill her. For some reason, she was okay with that. "I want you to know you failed. I want you to know you're a bad mother. A selfish, bad mother." Rei was full on sobbing now. "Look at me. I want you to remember this." And with that you raised the knife before stabbing yourself in the gut, two screams ripping through the manor. Rei shot towards you, her hands trying to pull the knife away. "What did you do?! What did you do?!" Rei was crying. Enji was banging on the locked door for a few seconds before he burned it down and the sight he was met with...was nothing short of a nightmare.

There you layed on the floor, blood sputtering from your mouth, your shirt stained with blood and Rei. Rei, who was hunched over your body, with a bloody knife in her hand, crying out "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!".

Enji rushed towards you, pushing Rei back roughly. You were coughing up blood, your head turned away from him until you felt him touch your face. "D-daddy..."you whimpered out before your breathing came to a stop.

"No. No." Enji quickly gathered your limp body in his arms, running out of the house towards a hospital. He kept on chanting "no", because he didn't want to believe that he failed to protect you.

That he failed to save his daughter, again.

I had 5 different endings in my mind and Idc if this isn't your preferred ending (the ending I had in my mind was something out of Quentin Tarantino's movie). I'm just glad to be done with it.

Anyways, exams are coming up and I'm not going to be posting a lot.

And ill be taking up your follow up questions/asks for this part! I'll also be answering godfather hawks asks now that this part is out.

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

Help a sister Out? And Maybe all her brothers| Omega

Note: Omegas a growing kid (Like 11 or 12 I think she is) and of course...has to deal with female problems yay...puberty...

Warnings: uh puberty talk- is that a warning? Idk Omega learns a curse word too

Reader: Female

"Y/n. Y/n! Please get up!" Omega begged the sleeping woman as quick as she could, tucked under her bunk mates arm.

"Mhmm...Omega?" Y/n questioned turning around to face her, seeing the worried look on the girl's face.

"What's wrong?" Y/n spoke sitting up making sure not to disturb Tech, the worried on Omega's face scarred her, had something happened?

"I-I'm bleeding..." Omega spoke embarrassed.

"Bleeding?" Y/n questioned.

Omega nodded tears threatening to fall, "I-I didn't hurt myself, I know I didn't- but Im bleeding and I-"

"Omega, sweety calm down." Y/n spoke sitting up escaping Tech's arm, "tell me everything."

"I woke up-and I- I felt blood running down my leg- a-and. I- I didn't wanna wake Hunter- so I woke you and..."

Y/n only nodded, "go to the refresher and we'll talk."

Omega nodded in response rushing off, grabbing her personal bag she stowed away for both space and personal reasons she walked back to the refresher.

"Get in the shower and clean yourself, Don't worry I'll explain everything while you're in there," Y/n explained as she nodded rushing to turn the water on a strip of her clothes. Y/n washing Omeag's clothes in the sink.

"Omega when we stop at the next city, I'll take you shopping, if you'd like I can make you a set of blacks but need the fabric, you have extra clothes right?"

"Only one set...in my bunk..."She spoke worriedly, "why is this happening?"

Y/n frowned at her whispering washing the blood down the drain, "It's okay Omega. It's natural. It means your getting older. I know. It sucks...."

"I'm not gonna die?" She questioned.

"What? No." Y/n responded, "It just means your getting older like I said, I get the same too."

"You do?"

"Yep. It's natural and means you're healthy."

"Oh..." Omega responded, "does Hunter and them get this?"

"No. They don't." Y/n responded, "It comes with being a female is all. I'll be back let me get your extra clothes."

"Okay..."

Y/n rushed to get Omega's extra set of clothes, carefully walking through the isle of sleeping men retrieving her clothes, and rushing back to Omega.

"I got them." Y/n spoke going back to ringing out Omega's clothes, "you almost done?"

"Mhmm," Omega spoke as Y/n washed her hands, making Omega a small bag.

Turning the water off she handed Omega a towel.

"I stopped bleeding," Omega spoke.

"For now, " y/n responded Omega stepping out in a towel.

"For now?" Omega questioned.

"Here."

Y/n kneeled down holding a colorfully wrapped item.

"This is a pad, it'll help with your period, you have to change it every so often," Y/n responded.

"I have to wear this?"

"I mean don't have to. But... it's highly recommended, you know blood everywhere...." Y/n told her.

"Oh... how?" Omega questioned.

"Well... it'll absorb your blood. It's the reason you have to change it every so often. It goes in your...uh underwear."

Y/n had to admit she had never explained a period to another person, not another man or woman. And none the less a child.

"O-okay."

"I'll turn around so I'll be here if you need help but you'll still have privacy"

Omega nodded as Y/n stood up turning her head into the corner as Omega took her time trying to figure it out, but eventually did.

"I-its weird..." she spoke pulling up her pants, "you can turn around."

Y/n turned back around as Omega wore a T-shirt, pulling her other shirt over.

"You'll get used to it. But keep this."

She handed Omega a bag, "why?"

"It has extra. Just in case."

Omega nodded, "thank you..."

Y/n nodded, "When we all wake up and are on the move me and you can talk."

Omega hugged her as Y/n patted her head, "go back to bed now. But wake me up if you need help."

Omega nodded as she went back to bed, Y/n putting Omega's wet clothes in a plastic bag she had, she'd have to wash them next time they'd stop.

Washing her hands thoroughly she went back to bed, sliding in next to Tech who draped his arm around her and went back to sleep.

In the morning, she was woken by Tech climbing over her.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"It's okay..." she spoke letting him get out of the bunk and her following.

"Hunter's been asking for you as well. I did explain to him you need your sleep. But it seems Im the hypocrite in this situation."

"Tech. It's fine really, where's Hunter?"

"Everyone except Omega and myself in the cockpit."

Y/n nodded as she got up, following Tech in, they all had just woken up caf in their hands.

"What's the problem?" Y/n questioned Wrecker handing her a cup, "thanks."

"It's Omega. She won't come out her bunk." Hunter spoke.

"Okay?" Y/n questioned, "and?"

"And?! And?! We've tried getting her out but she says she really tired, and then says her stomach hurts- She won't let Tech in to see her! And Im worried she's sick!-"

Y/n watched bluntly as the others sipped their caff along with her.

"You seem to not care!" Hunter argued.

"Okay." Y/n responded, "she's a young person with a whole bunch of older people, What do you expect? She wants her own time."

"Why is she in pain?"

"Because she's growing," Y/n spoke.

"Growing?" Hunter spoke, "It shouldn't be painful to grow!"

"Well growing pains are common amongst the clones." Tech responded, "then again Omega does not have accelerated growth."

"Right so it means her pains gonna last a lot longer than yours." Y/n told them, "you know, she going through things, she gonna get these two monstrosities called breast, and she gonna be able to have a baby-"

"She's a baby herself she doesn't need to be having kids-" Hunter spoke.

"Well, that's what a period does. It basically helps your fertility, and cycles out all the old stuff. It comes in the form of-"

She looked at the men who held confused faces.

"What?" She questioned.

"We have no idea what you just told us," Hunter spoke.

"Wha-" Y/n spoke as she looked at Tech, "Tech?! Not you too-"

"Uh... breasts are nice? I don't think they're any help, they've saved you once or twice."

"How?"

"That commando droid couldn't stab you hard enough between your armor and your breast. You were saved." Tech spoke.

"I remember that! Tech's got a point!" Wrecker cheered, "so Omega will get extra protection! That's a win!"

"Yeah but some people like to stare," Echo spoke, "like that one time at 79s. Remember when that guy said Y/n had implants."

"Oh. I never understood why that argument happened" Wrecker spoke, "But it ended in a fight! And Y/n kicked his ass!"

"You can't always look at the bright side." Echo defended.

"Well, why not!" Wrecker argued.

"Because what benefits you could hurt someone else. And sometimes there's just not a good side to look at." Echo told, "it's common sense."

"See Echo gets it," Y/n responded sipping her drink.

"Okay! So what do we do!?" Hunter questioned.

"She'll be fine in a week-"

"A WEEK!? What are we gonna do!?" Hunter argued.

Y/n shrugged, "He's overreacting."

"he tends to do that occasionally," Tech told sipping his caff.

That's when Omega came out of her room, Hunter froze and going to kneel down to hug her but she rushed to hide behind Y/n.

"ooo ouch..." Wrecker spoke.

"c-can we go? now?" Omega questioned as Y/n nodded, "Okay me and Omega are leaving, bye."

"what-" Hunter watched Y/n grab her back and leave, "I-"

The two walked out the hanger and out of sight.

"M-My baby..." Hunter cried dramatically.

"Dude needs a hobby," Echo spoke.

"Agreed," Tech spoke.

"You make a good point." Wrecker agreed

#tbb x reader #omega bad batch #omega tbb #wrecker tbb #hunter tbb #sw: the bad batch #echo tbb #tech tbb #tbb #the bad batch x reader

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tsukidrama · 2 years

Text

the proverbial final straw

off the beaten path (a trnt side story)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢѕ: implied recreational drug use

setting: the apartment building pre-cottage

ao3 | the road not taken | cottagecanon

← previous | next →

author's note: Connie is truly reader's bff i don't even intentionally plan it but when they're together the spirit of friendship flows through me and it just happens

word count: 1.6k

If there was one thing that you could choose to never deal with again, it’s communal showers. You’re so over it. It’s not necessarily the presence of other people that bothered you, at this point from years of military service it’s what you’re used to more often than not. You’ve learned when they’ll be the least busy, and when you can’t avoid the crowd, how to get clean and get out.

The days of military barracks are nearly nostalgic now. It wasn’t to your liking to weave around a bunch of teenagers who kept stealing your shampoo, but it was so much worse here. Sasha and Mikasa bumming shampoo once every few weeks was one thing, but it’s entirely different when you see nearly a third of a brand-new bottle is gone after the first day.

Somebody was using your fucking stuff without your permission, and that shit wasn’t cool. Was there some kind of unspoken code about these things? There were small caddies at the front of the showers, enough that one room per hall had enough shelf space to store things like your shower gels, soap, and towels.

Are you supposed to hide your stuff in your apartment? You shouldn’t have to inconvenience yourself on the basis that a thief lives amongst you. What has happened to civility? If the pool of suspects weren’t literal refugees, you’d be tempted to lose your temper.

The first time, it was your fault. You left the shampoo bottle on the ledge next to the showerheads, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. Except that you were, and that was your downfall. The very next night you notice that it’s easily halfway empty. You and Annie alone have lasted a month or more on one bottle.

The rooftop continues to be your place of refuge when you need a minute to yourself. Other people notice your absence, and end up joining you one by one over time. It kind of crushes the hopes that you might get laid and at first, it really sucks.

And then Connie buys a pack of suspiciously foul-smelling cigarettes from a wisened old man all too happy to share. Rooftop conversations got a lot more fun after that.

Lately, your living situation was getting a bit more stressful. Or maybe you just weren’t getting enough sleep. It’s tiring to be constantly observed and hardly allowed any privacy. You’re getting sick of it and by the way that her grumpy moods start flaring up like clockwork around the louder times of day, Annie is, too.

She talks about leaving the town sometimes. Where would you go? There’s not much outside of the municipality, just a lot of trees and jungle. If she had a decent proposal you’d go with her anywhere, as long as it gave you some room to breathe. There wasn’t really anything you’d miss too terribly if you left this town.

Connie brings the pack like usual, and today it’s just him and Reiner. You’d caught a glimpse of them sneaking off up the stairwell – whatever you were in the middle of you could push off until later. You go up on the roof thirty seconds behind them while they’re still they’re lighting up.

“Perfect timing,” Connie greets you, offering you the first hit on the spliff. You bow your head in appreciation as you inhale deeply. After a long hit, you pass it on to Reiner.

“Come get me next time,” you insist, “you know how much our rooftop smoke sessions mean to me.”

The cigarette makes it back to Connie. “Yeah, yeah. What about Annie, though?” he asks.

You pause before you take another hit. “Well, what about her?”

“Doesn’t she want to smoke, too?” Connie clarifies as you inhale.

You shrug and hold it in for a minute before you blow the smoke out. “She wanted to go take a shower.”

Reiner laughs a little bit nervously. “Well, then you definitely should have invited her this time, then. All of our moms go in there around this time of day.”

Everyone pauses, though even half a second is too much of a mental image. You let out an audible “Eugh,” and maybe it’s just what you’re smoking, but all three of you burst into giggles.

“Aw, man, that’s fucking rough,” Connie shakes his head.

As quickly as the laughter begins, it stops as the door to the roof bursts open again. Instinct kicks in and the three of you scramble. Reiner coughs and all the smoke in his lungs comes rushing out.

He realizes halfway through a coughing fit that he’s still holding a lit joint. He puts his hand behind his back in an attempt to hide it. Connie hops in front of him, and you hop in front of Connie to try and create a triple shield of sorts. It probably stinks like a motherfucker up here, and besides, there’s visible smoke drifting forward in the wind.

You’re the only one who relaxes when you see that it’s Annie. The initial rush of happiness you feel at the sight of her is quickly replaced by dread when it takes you a moment to notice what kept the boys tense all along. She’s soaking wet.

Soaking wet, like she had thrown on clothes and come upstairs without drying herself off.

You step aside as she marches past you and Connie, going straight for the spliff in Reiner’s hand. She takes a long drag from it.

Nobody else is brave enough to break the silence, so you bite the bullet. “Trouble in the showers?” you ask nervously.

“We need to move out,” she replies with no emotion on her face. “I think I might be scarred for life.” She then sucks in another hit before she even exhales the first.

Afterward, she skips Reiner altogether and hands it directly to you. A long moment passes as all three of you stare at her with growing anticipation. The cigarette burns away between your fingers as you’re still a bit frozen in place.

Connie starts chuckling nervously under his breath, and you stamp on his foot to get him to shut up. After a few seconds, two thin lines of smoke stream out of Annie’s nostrils as she exhales. She glares at Reiner.

“Mystery solved, Y/N. Karina Braun is the one stealing your shampoo. She’s also giving it to Mrs. Grice and somebody else. I didn’t see a face,” she grimaces and collects herself, “I saw everything BUT a face, to be honest…”

Everyone is too stunned to speak at first, with different reactions ranging from uncomfortable shuffling, shock, and disgust.

After a few seconds of silence, Reiner pipes up. “Well, damn… I can uh, give you some money when we go back downstairs to pay for a new bottle,” he offers sheepishly.

Connie starts laughing nervously again. You can’t stop him or else you might crack and laugh, too. All of a sudden you remember that you have the cigarette. So instead, you suck down another hit and hand it off to the boy next to you. He clearly needs it too.

When the joint makes its way to Reiner, he pauses before he smokes. He gives a nervous side-eye to you and Connie, who shake your head vigorously to dissuade him from speaking up again.

He ignores you. “Seriously, I’ll buy you more shampoo. Or maybe I’ll buy some for my mom,” and as Annie continues staring daggers at him, he shrinks, “Actually, I’ll do both. Uh… sorry.”

Before he has the chance to take a hit, Annie plucks the stump out of his fingers. “Too slow, shouldn’t have talked so much,” she warns, sucking in another massive inhale. Instead of giving it back to Reiner, she hands it to you. “We’re not taking your money, anyway. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You awkwardly reach across the circle to pass the joint back to Reiner so he can have his turn. As soon as he has his lungs full of smoke again, Annie adds a completely out of pocket: “It’s payment enough to find out that your mom has better tits than you do.”

All four of you bust out laughing while the poor blonde man once again hacks so hard that he can’t even protest. Between the unexpected comment and the fact that Reiner looks so genuinely offended by it, it sends you hysterics. Connie throws an arm around you with tears in his eyes.

Annie is beyond pleased with herself. It’s one of the hardest giggles you’ve ever seen from her, and it makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst. Maybe there were actually some things you’d miss if you left, you realize all of a sudden.

Reiner looks dismayed at first. “You made me drop the fucking thing,” he mutters while pouting. Of course, Connie just lights up another one. This time he offers the first hit to Annie, but she declines it in favor of offering it to Reiner.

She gives him a playful nudge to get his attention. He’s back to smiling again as soon as he sees it. In fact, his entire demeanor lights up. While the four of you pass around that second cigarette he gets dangerously close to pushing the boundaries of Annie’s truce, touching her far more than she likes and talking to her nearly nonstop. Surprisingly, Annie doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

Before you go back downstairs, Connie snaps his head toward Annie with sudden realization.

“Oh my god…” he says, the horror evident in his voice, “The other woman in the shower… it wasn’t… MY mom, was it?”

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chubbyreaderchan · 3 years

Text

Care | Sesshomaru x insecure!chubby!Reader

Summary: The first time Sesshomaru meets (Y/n) in her time was when Kagome told him they were sick. It then turns out they are having a bad week dealing with a depression episode. He discovers them unbathed, in a messy room, and in unkept hair. How can a cold demon still learning about his human mate and emotions deal with such a sight?

Tw: Depression, gender neutral reader, light mentions of nudity.

Classic Inuyasha Verse.

"Woman," Sesshomaru's cold voice carried through Kagome. She froze and turned to him slightly before climbing out of the well.

"S-Sesshomaru!" Kagome said in surprise. She still wasn't used to him being here. Waiting for his lover to come back from their time. "Sorry, they didn't make it this time..."

Sesshomaru's golden eyes narrowed at her. "Why?"

Kagome tried to fight a dreamy smile from dancing across her lips. If she didn't know better she would say he was worried. "They only said they were sick when I spoke to them. I don't know with what--"

He moved forward, causing Kagome to step back at the speed but calmed down when she saw him begin to jump into the well.

Her eyes widened. He had never had an interest in retrieving them himself. Often he would demand she go get them since he had no interest in it himself.

It would often cause a fight between Inuyasha and Sesshomaru, despite the fact his interest in Kagome's friend had mellowed out the animosity quite a bit.

"Wait! You don't know where they live!" Kagome moved to go with him but he glared at her with a dangerous gaze.

"I can find them without your help, woman," he growled before jumping in.

Sesshomaru climbed out of the well. A well house had surrounded it in this time era. Carefully he walked out of the building into the warm spring sun.

The smell of sakura was strong but not as strong as a new odd smell. He couldn't quite place it however, it seemed to come from a odd metal cart that drove down the street.

It made his nose wrinkle, there were many smells infiltrating him. It was difficult at first for him to pick up their scent but not impossible.

He followed it. Sesshomaru picked it up and followed it. He ignored the whispered gasps as he used his speed to get around the crowds. Eventually, he found himself in front of a large silvery building.

He could see a few balconies with doors open but there was just one he was interested in. Open and having the sweet scent of his mate wafting out. Without thought, he turned into a ball of light floating to the balcony. His golden eyes looked inside, it was clearly theirs. Their scent was everywhere, but his nose wrinkled at the mess that lightly coated the room.

Where were they? His ears tingled when he heard voices in a closed off room. The demon lord rushed over, pushing aside the sliding door and stepped in. They were laying down curled up in a blanket, a bag of what they told him were 'chips' at their side and a sad look on their face.

Their eyes had widened when they noticed him finally, he could hear their heart beat speed up and smell a bit of fear on them. The smell was also mixed with musk and sweat. It must've been a while since they had bathed.

How odd... They were always clean and we'll kept.

"S-Sesshomaru?!" They said in surprise. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was informed you were ill," he said calmly.

They sat up, their once neatly taken care of hair was quite unusually a mess.

"You wouldn't understand" (Y/n)'s voice cracked and Sesshomaru could smell the salty tears.

"Who has upset you?" He growled.

They looked away. "I don't want you hurting them."

He moved deeper into the room, careful not to trip over clothing that layered the floor. The demon grabbed the bag of chips and moved them away before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Why are you crying?"

They said nothing.

Silence was deafening.

"Tell me," He growled.

"I over heard some people talking about how ugly and over weight I was. Then I don't know. I don't think that's what is making me feel this way... I just... Feel sad."

"Sad?" He repeated.

Sesshomaru did not like that one bit. His mate shouldn't feel sad.

"You stink,"

Their eyes widened and cheeks heated up from embarrassment. "I-I just... Haven't felt like dealing with it... What's the point?"

"Where is a hot spring?"

"Oh... I uh... We don't need one," they awkwardly moved from under their blanket. "I'll show you."

They got up and wandered out of the room with him close behind. They felt obligated to do as he wanted from him. "See?" They said moving to turn on the water and fill the tub with warm water.

He was right. They needed a bath. Once the water filled the tub they began to remove their week old clothing but Sesshomaru stepped in to do it for them. Then his own clothing followed. He moved into the tub pulling them with him.

His fingers gently began rubbing grime off their skin. "Would you like to try my soap?" They asked him carefully.

He didn't say anything just watched as they grabbed a bottle. "H-Here let me," they said turning to face him.

They put it into their hands and the began rubbing it over his skin. "Stop." He demanded.

He copied them with the soap. "This Sesshomaru is here to care for you,"

He moved again to pull (Y/n) close to begin washing their body. Head to foot he made sure every part was cleaned and massaged to relaxation.

After a long warm rinse, the dog demon stood up, drying himself before moving to get dressed and dry himself. Sesshomaru wrapped them in a familiar looking towel and then walked off to the bedroom where he remembered seeing clothing.

He came back with a set of sleep clothes he recognized and moved to dress them.

"You don't have to do this," they said suddenly.

"You are my mate. It's what I am supposed to do," he growled out, adjusting the shirt gently against their skin. Without a word, he lifted them and carried them to the living area.

He went back to the bathroom to find the familiar hair care items they often brought with them. "Stay still." He demanded as he began the usual process he had seen them do many times.

It wasn't perfect but the heart was there.

"Sesshomaru." They began to sob. "Thank you." He said nothing in response. Simply, he continued the menstruations of caring for his sad mate.

"Lay here if you must." He stated before standing up. He pulled a blanket down from the back of their couch and covered them before stepping away.

To their surprise he began to clean the room. Putting away books and paint cups. Old bowls of dried ramen joined the rest in the kitchen sink. It was fast. He was fast clearing and making the room look good.

They had almost drifted to sleep. "You." His voice came from behind them. "Why do you put dishes in here?"

He had an idea of why but didn't want to make a mistake if he were wrong. "You don't--" he glared at her.

"Uh... You wash them." They stood up slowly and showed him how to work the soap and sink. "You can just put them in here..." They felt so ashamed.

"Go sleep. Your weak. You need your rest."

He seemed angry or frustrated but they some how knew he wanted to do this.

They nodded, not one to deny Sesshomaru of his commands. They laid back down in the couch slowly falling asleep.

The sound of water running and clanking of dishes held the perfect ambiance for them as they took a long needed nap.

It seemed like they slept for hours only to wake up to the smell of cooking fish. Their eyes fluttered open in surprise. They sat up and there he was, over the burner cooking.

How did he--?

The room was clean and their didn't seem to be a single mess in the room. He placed some fish over rice, before walking into the living room.

He was shocked when he turned to see them staring before he relaxed.

"Sit." He demanded nodding to a small kitchen table.

As always they did as they were told and sat down.

Sesshomaru placed the food in front of them.

"T-Thank you," They said softly.

He scoffed. "What kind of mate would I be if I couldn't care for my mate when they were sick?"

#sesshomaru x chubby!reader #sesshomaru x reader #lord Sesshomaru x reader #reader insert #inuyasha imagines

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fandomvariousness · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Levi x reader

Warnings: mild angst, violence, swearing, smut: slight dacryphilia, choking, slight masochism, slight dumbification, power play, unprotected sex

Summary: you’re an untruly scout in Levi’s squad and he let’s you know exactly how he feels when he pays you a visit during your punishment task

Word count: 3.6k

All hell broke loose if it was one of the worse days.

Your hot-headed disposition was a challenge to deal with in the first place, but if you felt a tad annoyed that day… Let’s just say punishments were as natural to you as breathing air.

It took slightest things to piss off Captain Levi – an irritated glance after he scolded you, a quiet remark you’d use to talk back and he, of course, would hear it. Simply put – you were disobedient. Yet even then you were an indispensable soldier – resourceful, intelligent, and absolutely fearless. Much like a wildfire – once you blaze, it’s hard to put you out.

Even so, Captain Levi eventually chose you to be a part of his new squad. Yes, he never encountered such an erratic human being that’s basically impossible to control, the traits that go against his every bullet point in describing a proper soldier, but he knew he would be an absolute fool if he’d go that massive potential of yours go to waste.

Countless times he wanted to kick you off the squad for being an unbearable brat, yet he didn’t. Often, you yourself wondered why.

✃

The squad has been on a minor expedition outside the walls for training purposes, so all of you were headed to the nearest cottage safe house.

After a tiring day of training, when the sun was setting down, you were all sitting outside, enjoying the last remnants of warmth in the air. Captain was sauntering inside the cottage, probably inspecting each crack and crevice after you all spend the first half of the day cleaning it.

It would be such a nice evening if Eren and Mikasa would argue a bit quieter. In fact, Mikasa was calmly saying something to Eren, while the latter, being basically as hot-headed as you, was arguing against her every word.

It pissed you off when they were like that, because it’s obvious Mikasa would do anything for Eren. Either he is so daft and doesn’t get it, or he doesn’t care. You never admitted to yourself that you’re jealous that Eren has someone who cares for him, while you have no one. Not even your family which was once very big – you had lots of cousins, aunts and uncles. Now, only you remain.

“Oi,” you exclaimed. “could you just tone it down a bit?”

Eren’s fiery gaze snapped towards you in a second. “Stay out of this!”

Now, you knew it’s none of your business, but you hated being talked to like that, much less ordered. You stood up in a swift motion from where you were leaning against a bench and turned your body to face Eren.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve no interest in what you’re crying about, Jaeger, but you’re not even listening to Mikasa, that much is obvious.”

Others were starting to pay attention too – they knew that when the two of you started bickering, often it’d turn into something more… interesting.

“You know what else is obvious?” he asked, his voice challenging. “That you act all brave and fearless, but in reality you’re just a restless child acting as if she lost her dummy!”

You felt that familiar tickling feeling of your temper rising, firing you up until you eventually lose yourself and act upon instincts that keep you alive and going.

You chuckled curtly. “Me? You’re calling me a child?”

Tauntingly, you’ve stepped closer to him. Eren knew that it’s not smart to wind you up like that, you’re still friends, good friends – it just so happened that you’re both in a bad mood today.

“At least I can wipe my own ass without Mikasa’s help.” you finished your sentence just before Eren grabbed a fistful of your collar and roughly pulled you flush against him, both of your impulsive auras conflicting with each other.

You growled as you pushed him away in a swift, forceful motion, earning a murderous glare from him.

It took so little to get you angry. Even though you pushed him away, that unruly part of yours stepped close to him again as you dug your forefinger in his chest in a threatening manner.

“Don’t touch me, you, whiny bitch,” you spat out, your voice dripping with venom – you were already blazing, and there was no going back.

Eren slapped your hand away. “Who you’re calling a whiny bitch? I wasn’t the one who cried into the pillow for two weeks after driving Reiner and Bertholdt away!”

Now, you can be reckless, wild, fiery… But Eren can be cruel.

The reason you were so devastated after finding out your two best friends were your mortal enemies was because with them you felt like you’ve had family again – both of them reminded you of your older brothers. You shared your feelings with Eren in confidence, and he just blurted it out in front of everyone.

“Fuck it,” you thought as you launched a punch at his face with a primal scream.

By now the others knew not to interfere in your fights, not even Mikasa. God knows they tried, and it made it even worse.

Eren fell to the ground with a hard thud before you quickly straddled him and lifted up your bent hand to launch another punch at his bloody nose.

The bastard was quick to react nevertheless as he met your fist with his palm and squeezed it, slapping you off of him with his free hand in a swift motion. The second your own body collided with the grass you were already scrambling with your hands and feet to get up.

As you turned to Eren with the intention to ram him to the ground again, he was already on his legs as well. The others were still shouting for you two to break it up, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before Captain Levi shows up.

Not thinking straight, you did exactly what you wanted, you launched yourself at him and picked him like a flower stem, both of you flying to the ground again, followed by a sickening thump.

Your vision was getting blurry from all the rage and adrenaline as you lifted up your fist, charged with savage energy, ready to collide with Eren’s already battered face, yet it never happened. It never happened because someone else was gripping your wrist so hard, almost stopping the blood flow.

You snapped your head back to see murderous look in Captain’s gray eyes.

Still gripping your wrist, he jerked you back like a rag doll, painfully sending you to the ground, away from Eren.

It fell so quiet you could hear the clouds passing.

Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I will kill both of you.”

“Right,” he continued. “when everyone’s going to sleep after this long, tiring day, you brats are going to sweep this house clean again. I don’t care how long it takes you. Eren takes right wing, Y/N takes left.”

He glared daggers at the two of you before going back to the cottage, just like that. It was actually worse when he didn’t say much – means he’s absolutely sick of you.

Still breathing heavily, you stood up, leaning on your knees with your palms for support.

“Shit, guys,” Jean muttered. “Shall we say our goodbyes now, or...?”

“Jean.” Mikasa snapped, shutting him up.

You glared at Eren who glared right back at you, although his eyes were already void of the rage that was previously residing in them.

You looked away without a word and made your way towards the cottage, wanting to wipe all the dirt and soot away.

✃

You stared at your distraught face in the mirror. Distraught by the fight you had with Eren, and by the fact that you got on Captain’s nerves again. How longer can you go on like this before he finally kicks you out?

You wiped your wet face with a towel as you heard someone come into the bathroom. Mikasa’s frame showed up in the mirror.

“Mikasa,” you spoke without hesitation as you turned around. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Mikasa shook her head sheepishly. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. You’re the most caring person I know and I used that to shame Eren, although there’s no shame in caring for your loved ones.”

Mikasa blushed as she set her eyes to the ground. “Everyone’s going to sleep already – you better hurry.”

“Right,” you sighed, feeling the jitters of anticipation.

You quit the bathroom and made your way to the cleaning cupboard to grab all sorts of supplies. At least the Captain was nowhere to be seen – you couldn’t bear his condemning gaze now. Not when you secretly always yearn for his approval.

You can’t help but stare at him a second longer than you should, or think about him when you shouldn’t. The fact that he hasn’t kicked you off of his squad gives you some material for thinking that maybe he simply doesn’t want to. There’s just something about him that makes you tense everytime you’re around him – not the dread everyone feels, but something else entirely, something that makes your stomach tingle.

You just finished cleaning all the dishes after dinner and was now sweeping the floor that was still clean after your cleaning tasks earlier in the day. That was the point of the punishment, you figured – clean the surroundings that are already clean, only to frustrate you.

You were kind of spacing out, the flashbacks of the fight with Eren coming back, rekindling the violent blaze within you. Everything was suddenly in your head again, pushing you to the edge. You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose as you stopped momentarily, letting go of the broom and trying to forget how Eren just blurted out about your sorrows, how Captain glared at you, how everyone got to witness you getting unhinged again.

Hot flashes hit your body as you blew the stray ringlet of hair from your forehead, leaning on the dining table with your palms, desperately trying to calm down.

“Who told you to stop?”

Oh no… Really not the time.

You needed a few more seconds to stop the shivers as you opened your eyes and straightened your frame, facing Captain Levi, who was leaning against the counter.

It was precisely those few extra seconds that displeased him.

“Tsk,” he spat out as he straightened his frame. “Not only you’re deranged, but lazy too.”

You faced him with as blank a face as you could possibly muster, yet all your feelings were bubbling up, threatening to spill out with a little more provocation. You never wanted to rip off someone’s head so bad, until now.

You didn’t realize you’d squeezed your eyes shut until they suddenly opened with the sound of hard crash – Levi had purposely smashed a ceramic cup to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

You set your mad eyes on him, disbelief written all over you.

“Clean it.” he ordered. “Or are you going to disobey me again?”

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you sure it was bleeding, breathing heavily, restraining yourself like never before in order not to pounce on him.

Instead, you repeatedly bit your lower lip as you felt your eyes watering. It’s better to cry yourself stupid before him than to actually hit him – then everything would definitely be over.

He stepped closer to you, your clothes almost brushing together, as he looked down on you with clear disgust, and… satisfaction?

You were so angry. He tried to demean you just now, and you were under immense pressure to actually pick those pieces up. You knew you had to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You gulped. “You’re abusing your power.”

“No,” he closed in on you, making you step backwards until the back of your thighs hit the table. “I’m establishing my power, since you clearly don’t recognize it.”

He leaned his palms on the table just like you did moments ago, trapping you. Your heart was palpitating against your ribcage, yet for reasons entirely different than rage.

All of those glances and pushes and punishments now made sense – that was the only way he could think of to interact with you with no suspicion from others. He’d often chide you for the stupidest things, just so he’d have the chance to have a conversation with you, no matter how fleeting or unimportant.

Deep down you always knew it, and that’s why you’re continued being such a burden. Just so that he’d look at you and punish you again, scream at you, or kick the shit out of you again.

The atmosphere in the room has changed radically. You felt like walking on a string, about to fall off as his face was hovering just above yours, torturing you with anticipation.

“You wanted to beat the shit out of me just now, didn’t you?” he quizzed while slowly tracing your features with his stony gaze. Instead of answering, you gulped.

He grabbed your face harshly, puckering up your lips in the process. “Speak.”

“Yes.” you admitted before his hand slid down to lightly hang at the base of your neck, igniting whole another fire within you.

“Yes what?” he asked, adding pressure to his hand.

“Yes, Captain.”

At this rate, you’re going to burn out.

He chuckled quietly through his nose and stood up straight. “Go on, then. I’m ordering you to slap me.”

It was as if you just turned into a statue – that’s how shocked you were. “W-What?” you asked sheepishly.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You stared at him, trying to see him and his intentions through. Obviously, things were finally getting spicy, but your defense mechanism still rang some alarm bells – is he trying to trick you into something? Are you really going to bitch-slap the humanity’s strongest?

You felt your palms starting to tingle as he stared right into your eyes, challenging you to do it.

And you’re gonna do it, alright.

Something just snapped inside you, as it always does before you do something stupid or something you’re going to regret. You charged your palm with strength before sending it flying across his cheek with all your might. You whimpered as your skin came in contact with his, setting your palm on fire from such a harsh stroke.

And then it dawned on you – you really did bitch-slap him. He even stumbled one step backwards, his head ominously turned to the side, crow-black hair shielding his eyes from your vision, what absolutely terrified you.

He straightened his frame as he wiped a droplet of blood from his lip with the tip of his thumb.

You gasped audibly, making him look at you.

That’s it, you thought, he has a perfect reason to kill you now, and you were stupid enough to fall for it. You closed your eyes and awaited whatever’s to come, and it did come.

His lips came crashing on yours, both of you stumbling backwards, moving the table a bit. He immediately yanked you to sit on the wooden surface, positioning himself between your thighs as you held onto him for dear life.

He devoured you with hungry, open-mouthed kisses before you bit his lower lip, drawing blood once more.

One of his hands that were digging into your hips came in contact with your neck, squeezing it hard and pushing you away so he could see your hazy face.

“Savage.” he muttered after a few moments of taking you in, making your mouth stretch out into a lazy smile.

He pushed himself to you further, making your back hit the table as he attached his lips just below your neck, where jaw transitions to neck, coaxing a mewl out of you. He coaxed another when he rutted his hips against yours, making you aware of the growing tent in his pants.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, eyes closed as he sucked and bit little marks all over your neck. Hiding them is going to be a problem.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, rolling your hips against his in a tantalizing motion, whimpering at how his hardness brushes against where you need him the most, feeling him exhale into your mouth as his mind was equally clouded.

It felt like everything was finally coming to be exactly as it should, like you’d finally be released from your misery, like the intentions behind each of your actions would finally be clear, without any misunderstandings.

You were both impatient. No time for thorough build up, you just wanted to feel him inside you, just as he wanted to fill you up.

He drew back a bit, restrained by your legs snaking his waist as he rested his forehead against yours, panting heavily. “I’d really like to fuck you now.”

The fact that after all the crazy shit you’ve been through today he’d still ask for consent made you give it all to him. “Only if you do it so hard I can’t walk for days.”

You felt his dick twitch. “Easy.”

You yelped as he flipped you around, fumbling with the hem of your pants as he pushed them down to your knees, along with your underwear. You shivered as cool air hit your slick folds, and once again when you heard Levi fumbling with his own belt.

You wiggled your hips against him, impatient, almost crying out – you needed him that bad. His palm came flying against your behind, making you yelp loudly, gripping the edge of the table as you’re all sprawled out on top of it.

You whimpered again as you felt him brush the tip of his dick teasingly against your entrance. “Please, Captain…”

“So impatient,” he muttered silently before ramming into you without any warning.

Your nails dug into the wooden edge as you cried out into the air, holding on for dear life as he slammed you, table legs creaking underneath you rhythmically.

Levi had a perfect view of you as he rutted against you – the way your ass bounced flush against his hip, your arm muscles straining as you gripped the edge of the table harder and harder, the way the strands of your hair flew up and down with each motion, and how helplessly you squealed each time his tip hit your cervix – all of that sent him insane, unable to stop the silent whimpers that came out from his own mouth.

He had to restrain himself from going too fast – that’s how eager he was to finally sprawl you under him, after all this time you drove him out of his mind with your unstable behavior, hatred-driven glances and disobedience.

“Yes, yes, love it,” you wailed incoherently.

“Of course you do,” he huffed just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head backwards, stars spilling out of your head.

The way his dick breached you was literally driving you crazy – it was like a perfect fit, slipping soundly against your walls and hitting all the right spots at exactly the right time. Your cunt clenched around him on its own, making him groan at your artfulness. His fingers dug into the plush of your backside, thrusting into you without any mercy.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, your brain short-circuiting each time you heard Levi groan, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing against the walls.

“Oh, God,” you cried out as your bliss was rapidly closing in on you.

“No,” Levi countered as he pressed his back flush against yours, brushing his lips against your ear. “just me.”

His head hung down, burying itself in the crook of your neck as he finally spilt his seed inside of you with a low groan that sent you to your own release. You cried out as he panted heavily against your skin, your body slumping on the table completely.

You had to muster up the remaining grain of your strength when Levi stood up and pulled his pants on so you could to the same with your own. Your breathing was still erratic as you fumbled with the pair of strings in the hem of your pants, trying to tie them. Levi approached you and lightly swatted your trembling hands away, tying them for you.

You were lost in his gray eyes by now, not even knowing what to say at first, but this silence that ensued was kind of comforting, both of you assessing the situation.

He chuckled suddenly. “Why did you beat the shit out of Jaeger in the first place?”

You smiled awkwardly as you shook your head curtly, gluing your eyes to the ground. “Doesn’t matter. Stupid thing, really.”

“Alright.” he said, his voice low, as usual. “You can tell me all about it next time.”

His words made you look at him again, eyebrows slightly lifted, eyes full of sudden anticipation.

Next time?

You were kind of scared at the thought of getting together with Captain again, but you felt excited way more.

“Oh, and like I said,” he paused before leaving the room completely. “clean it.”

You remembered the shattered cup and this time failed to refrain a smirk that creeped upon your lips.

“Yes, Captain.”

He left after that, but you swear you saw a ghost of a smile on those harsh lips.

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years

Note

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

#creepypasta #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter headcanons #helenotisheadcanons #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #tw mental/emotional abuse #tw mention of disregarding someone's gender

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ellitx · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14: Anticipation

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.7k

Aether’s toes curled, his fingers twitched and his eyes blinked as he awakened. His golden optics were greeted by a familiar ceiling and the hushed murmurs he can faintly hear next to him. He stayed still for a few minutes before shifting his body to the side.

The aching pain is still present and searing, bothering him continuously as his head throbbed just from the littlest motions he takes. It took a portion of his brain as if dealing with it is energy expenditure enough, without the effort of new thoughts. It burns as if some invisible flame was held against his skin.

What in the world happened to him that made him feel so weak and lightheaded out of nowhere?

“Aether!” He recognized that high-pitched voice. Groaning, he turned his head to the source and blinked several times to clear away the blurriness hindering his eyesight.

“Oh, thank goodness he’s awake.” The hushed and young tone of the deaconess alerted the nearby sisters. Faces painted with concern and worry the Honorary Knight has passed out in front of the chapel. When Paimon was crying for help, Barabara was the first one to come in aid followed by Sister Victoria and Sister Jilliana.

The next few hours would pass as a minor shock in the course of Aether’s life, or it would be the last day for him before he even gets to find his sister again. Barbara held her hand to his burning forehead, his body had to conquer the fever soon or he would perish if left untreated. The young female paced the floor, busying herself in bringing fresh towels from the quarters, never stopping for even a moment.

At times the memory of finding Lumine, his twin sibling, in the field had him dreaming about her more lately. He swallowed hard, willing his eyes to remain dry and mind focused. He’s been pushing himself these past days in helping you find your lost pendant that he even forgot the simple need to take care of himself.

He placed one of his hands on his throbbing head to alleviate the pain and he can feel himself burning hot. Having a fever is not a good sign. He still has to return back your pendant to Stormterror’s Lair and look for his sister as soon as he can.

Should he give up and let the knights handle it while he continues his journey back to Inazuma or will he still pursue to find other ways of entering the barricade that hinders him from giving it to you? It’s not good leaving you there and have you expecting he’ll come back. He did say he’ll help you out no matter what, so why would he go abandon your own request? That’d be foolish and even disrespectful to one of the long-lost royal families.

Aether knows very well he’s sick. Needing clean fresh air and whatever that brings him comfort to get rid of the bile stuck in his throat. Barbara immediately held his body and gently laid him back down on the bed. His face was really pale and his lips were almost losing their color.

“Please don’t force yourself! Take a rest and we’ll take care of you, okay?” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the damp towel to drape it over his burning head.

“Lair… I have to give back her pendant…” He mumbled sluggishly and his eyes began to droop. He’s fighting and forcing himself to stay awake but the weariness filling him up followed by the constant nagging soreness in his body had him wanting to give in to sleep and doze off.

“Aether…” Paimon whispered and glided over him. His eyes were now closed, chest rising and falling in slow breaths as he fell back to sleep leaving her and Barbara alone in the muted room. Her eyes settled on the glass pendant resting atop the nightstand.

“Paimon will promise you we can give this to her!” The pixie turned her head to the deaconess and opened her mouth to ask something. “He’ll recover soon, right?”

“Of course. As long as he takes lots of rest he’ll be good in no time! Aether has been overworking himself to the point he passed out.” Paimon’s face scrunched and hung her head in guilt. It felt like it was her fault for not watching over her companion. Day and night it’s their routine to fight off monsters while in search of Aether’s sibling when she escaped. Paimon grew accustomed that he keeps saying he’s fine whenever she persists in him to rest which made her forgot to check up on his daily well-being.

“Oh… This is Paimon’s fault for not looking into his health…”

Barbara patted her head and assured her everything will be fine. She does understand how worried she is. They’ve been always together, never leaving each other’s side and it truly shows how deep their friendship is.

The blonde female pulled the blanket close to the traveler, making sure it was tucked and comfortable enough for him while he’s slumbering. “He’s fast asleep. Looks like the strong heat really had an impact on his body. He has a fever, but he’ll be fine.”

Just the assuring words of Barbara were enough to release the breath Paimon didn’t even know she was holding. With a sigh, her shoulders relaxed and her face lit up to the friend she cares so much about.

—

“To poets and bards, they revealed their faces.

Endless radiance, formless beauty,

Just like you.

Upon the land, the gods once set foot,

To scholars and sages, they unveiled their

semblance:

Stars glimmer, moon’s orbit,

Just like you.”

You glanced at Venti, his cheeks were painted with red while he continued to look forward, waiting for you to read the other lines. Feeling your heart race, you looked down and proceeded to read his poem.

“The world lost its shine.

In solitude, or in prayers,

No longer present are their whispers.

The world was beautiful and good.

Then the gods departed.

The world may have lost its shine,

But at least I have not lost you.”

Feeling nervous or anxious is an invitation to check in with himself, to have the moment of tuning into his emotions and finding the best way to distract himself. Venti doesn’t often seem the type to be bashful and so shy, so seeing him like this would be a rare sight for anyone who’s acquainted with him.

He’s been anticipating your reaction, your impression, or just anything. It’s like he’s standing in front of a stage with large crowds of people waiting for him to speak out. He stole a peek from you and settled his gaze on your delicate hands gripping the flimsy paper he gave to you.

Slowly staring upwards until it stopped to your face, your blushing features had his heart rushing. So sugary and so sweet. It was a kind of flowering, the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination. It is far easier to make loving bonds with emotionally vulnerable souls, actions speak louder than words after all, and he knows very well you’re speechless— even he himself is in the same state as you.

Venti cleared his throat and looked at you with a red face. “How was it? I’ve been always wanting to give that to you during the Windblume Festival and you’re the only one I can think of as I wrote it.”

You lifted the paper up to cover your face and closed your eyes. “I love it. I love it very much.” A giggle escaped from your throat, so gentle and warm as if the sound could make his heart pound faster than before. Opening your eyes, the emotions behind it made his breath hitched. So lost in the longing and adoring gaze you’re giving him, almost drowning himself and be allured by a simple look.

“Your poems never fail to amuse me, Venti. This reminds me back when you also sing songs to me whenever we’re just alone together in the garden. Mother was always worried, constantly asking Sir Ragnvindr’s assistance to look for us all night.”

The nostalgia for those times with him is like dreams that keep on returning to kiss and cheer your soul into a greater life. It’s the happy memories that sustain you, that carry you through the challenging times of loss, and remind you that loving was important and worthwhile.

A smile blossomed upon his face and it’s enough for you to hold the poem close to you. To cherish another sweet memory of him was an additional fragment to keep within you, to keep something memorable for you as long as you live.

Something soft and squishy was pressing onto you and you looked down to see a small slime nuzzling close to your dress. “Oh, hello there.” You said whilst petting its head.

Venti peered over you and quirked his brow in slight interest. “What’s that?” Picking up the small creature between your hands, you laid it on your lap and softly pressed on its face.

“An anemo slime! I remember passing one when I was walking outside the city— well the ruins.” You’re unsure if it’s the similar slime you’ve met even though almost all of them look the same. You hoped it was the one. It’s been days since you’ve seen it so this is quite a surprise seeing another one come near you without notice.

You fiddled with its little wings and toyed with it as the small slime let out a sound of amusement. Venti moved closer and took the paper from your hands and folded it to keep it inside his pocket. Smiling at him in thanks, you hugged the slime close to you and buried your face onto its soft and breezy body.

“Hey, Venti, can you tell me more about Ludi Harpastum?” You asked through the slits of your hair.

“Of course." Clearing his throat and sitting properly, he opened his mouth. "Ludi Haprastum lasts for fifteen days. The festival is full of music, games, gliding, and most especially wines! One of Mondstadt’s trademarks which we are now known for. At the climax of the festival, the champion of the game will choose a maiden who will throw Harpastum to the crowds.” He winked at you then summoned his lyre to play an impromptu melody.

“I was planning to take you there on the second half of the event.” A wistful sigh slipped from his lips as he leaned back on the rough branch of the tree, his fingers still playing with the strings of the instrument that echoed throughout the area. Scenarios of holding hands with you, going from one stall to another to eat, having a drink with you, and his most favorite and awaited part is taking you to the hands of Anemo Archon Statue at night to watch the stars and whole view of Mondstadt just like you used to emerge in his mind.

“Why halfway?” It’s not like you’re against his decision or anything. Though you are a bit curious why he chooses on later days he’ll take you out rather than the day it’ll start.

Your lover puckered his lips and placed a finger on your lips. “First half, I want to celebrate Windblume with you. You haven’t experienced it, right?” You slowly shook your head as an answer, a bit unsure, and his smile just grew wider in excitement.

“That settles it~ My beloved darling will be celebrating seven days of Windblume with me and another seven days for Ludi Harpastum with the one and only greatest bard of Mondstadt!”

Windblume… He said that word before when you were reading his poem. And isn’t that a code used by those who are planning to rebel against Decarabian? A festival like this surely got your interest. Has he been commemorating that celebration while you were asleep?

Mixed feelings of melancholy, relief, and joy have washed over you. Perhaps you were still longing for your father’s love no matter how many times you’ve reminded yourself he’s no longer here. You snapped out from your train of thoughts when Venti began to explain the background about Windblume.

He stated the people of Mondstadt offer Windblumes to the Anemo Archon and to those they love and adore. The Windblumes may be accompanied by other gifts, such as love poems.

“So it’s a romantic festival…?” You trailed off as you feel your face grow warm. The bard nodded and laid his hand on top of yours. “You could say we’re celebrating Windblume now. All the Dandelions and Cecilias gathered here, these are my Windblume for you.”

All this time, Venti has planned this all along without you knowing? The effort he’s put through to show his love for you had your heart beating so fast, you’ve grown to be more attached to him— attracted and enamored about everything around him. One question came to you was who is the current Anemo Archon now that your father is no longer present?

“Can I ask you something?” Your round eyes flicked upwards to look at him as he queried. With the blush still present on your face, you could only nod at him. The apprehension of opening your lips and voicing out your thoughts might ruin the peaceful aura surrounding you both.

“If I get to be the champion of the games during Ludi Harpastum, will you say yes if I ask you to be the maiden?”

Your bit your lower lip in nervousness and hugged the anemo slime close to your chest. “That… depends, I guess.” Venti’s countenance changed from joy to confound. Was he expecting too much you’d say yes? He felt his heart tugged and it made him so uneasy why he was feeling like this.

You quickly catch on to his sudden change of mood. A rush of panic came to you and that’s when you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it. “It’s not like I’m saying no to you, Venti. It’s just that it’s my first time celebrating this festival so I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do there. Being the maiden must be a special role, right?”

Your lover simply nodded and heaved a sigh before grabbing the apple and taking a bite of it. You crawled closer to him and poked his nose to lighten up the mood. “Cheer up! I still haven’t seen nor celebrated Ludi Harpastum. Who knows I might say yes to your offer?”

You lifted the anemo slime up to your face and cleared your throat to change the pitch of your voice. “Oh Mister Bard of Mondstadt, this young lass here has never seen you so woeful and so sad. A smile does suit more to your handsome face, so how about we replace it with one that is with grace?”

A stifled laugh came from him and you sure that made him laugh at your small play. Venti laid his hand on his mouth and looked at you comically. “Oh? And this young lass called me handsome? For a bard like me, I can surely allure her with just a simple anthem.”

He was looking pleased. Some part of him had turned out better than he’d hoped. Watching him, you felt a glow or warmth within, as if his happiness was contagious in all the right ways.

Clowning around with him was something rare for you to do. It’s mostly him teasing you but being the one able to make him smile lifted the heaviness in your chest. You never wanted to see him so blue and downcast.

Venti sat back and let the happiness soak right into his bones. He wanted the feeling to still be there no matter how many years had gone by. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, but never released his grip on the bitten ripe apple. For the first time in forever, his body and mind relaxed. At that moment there were no expectations upon him, no duties, and no responsibilities to meet. He was carefree as ever, lighthearted and cheery whenever he’s with you.

You laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes to take in the peaceful time.

“Ludi Harpastum is almost coming, right?” You softly asked and traced the shape of his hand with your gaze. Your lover hummed and ran his other hand through your hair to smoothen it.

Your warm-hearted smile that snuck from the corner of your lips instantly caught his attention as you sent it his way. “I’ll look forward to celebrating it with you.”

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #venti #genshin impact venti #venti x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere venti x reader #elliwrites #Illusory Sense

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Insatiable ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 5

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“Well, this is confusing.”

Namjoon was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head and Jungkook grunted from where he was trying to deadlift the 250lbs barbell, dropping it back down to stare at his friend. He’d never been able to deadlift this much. But then, today everything about him felt different. His senses heightened, vision sharper and just a lot more energy than usual.

“What?” He snapped, slightly annoyed because .... well, he had no idea why he was so annoyed. And that only added to his already foul mood.

“You look like you had a good night. A really good night but you’re also acting like you really need to get laid. So I’m trying to figure out which it is?” Namjoon frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Jungkook groaned , grabbing the small towel from the chair and soaking up the sweat dotting the back of his neck. He walked over to the water dispenser in the corner of the gym, pouring himself a glass, tipping it over his head and shaking out of his hair as the water dripped down his face and neck, drenching his sweat soaked tank top even more. .

Somewhere to his right, one of the ladies on the treadmill, tripped, crashing in a heap on the machine and he couldn’t help but smirk. She had been staring at him the entire time.

Jungkook was used to attention. He was used to the stares and the lust and the heightened heart rates he induced . It had been bad, even in his days as a human and now, five centuries later as a powerful vampire , it had only grown.

He was handsome. He was fit and he was a good guy. It was only natural that women wanted him. And he was okay with that. It gave him the luxury of being able to pick and choose, who he wanted in his bed. And he did.

Not that he did it often. With Joowon to care for, Jungkook often went months on end without sex and that was okay. Because the kind of sex he usually had, it was just ...a release. There was nothing intimate or personal about it.

Even with Helena it had been the friendship that had appealed to him.

Helena was ...fun. She liked to sail through the world, doing as she pleased and taking lovers everywhere. No one could keep her in a place for long and no one could ground her. There had been a time when he had thought that he was in love with her but that was just Helena. She made you feel like you couldn’t live without her. Because of how much happiness she imbibed in the moments. Because of how non judgemental and kind she was.

And he loved her. But now , centuries later it was the love of a dear friend.

But with Sera..... it had been something else.

He had a way he did things.

A little kissing , a little foreplay and just a whole lot of fucking with multiple orgasms for everyone involved. He had a quick refractive period and supernatural stamina so of course he was going to take advantage of that.

But none of that had happened last night.

The actual sex had lasted a scant few minutes. He hadn’t even been inside her more than five minutes and yet the memory was seared into his head. The phantom warmth of her still around him and the scent of her still tugging on his senses.

And the taste of her.

Fucking hell.

Jungkook had never fed from someone during sex. He just didn’t because drinking from someone , taking their life essence...it just...it was something incredibly intimate. It was important to him. Jungkook hardly ever fed from humans , opting to visit a blood cafe for a drink or a dispensary for a few blood bags when he needed to feed.

But last night.

“Earth to Jeon Jungkook.” Namjoon’s voice pulled him to the present.

He stared at his oldest, dearest friend.

“I slept with Sera.” His voice cracked on the syllables of her name, his tone dripping with regret and Namjoon stiffened.

“You... what? “ He stared at him in disbelief.

Jungkook groaned.

“Fuck... I drank from her too. “ He buried his face into his hands.

“Jungkook, that’s... “

“It was her first time. “ Jungkook looked up at him, eyes wide and helpless and Namjoon’s jaw came unhinged.

“Are you going to tell me you’re the pope next? Because my heart can’t take it...”

Jungkook groaned.

“I’m such a fucking idiot. It was supposed to be a no strings attached thing. “

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“Dude, a girl’s first time? Of course she’s going to get attached. Did she like confess?”

Jungkook hesitated.

“No. Actually, she just got dressed and left.” He shrugged.

Namjoon frowned.

“Oh, then that’s good right?”

Jungkook felt a little sick. He remembered how empty his bed had felt, after she’d kissed him and slipped back into her clothes and rushed back to sleep in her own bed. He hadn’t even helped clean her up because his limbs had felt a bit like jelly. He’d been punch drunk with the taste of her, his head swimming and his body thrumming and she had practically skipped out of his room, not a care in the world.

Hadn’t even kissed him good bye.

“Yeah. Good. “ He said hoarsely , head pounding .

Namjoon was staring at him .

“What ?!” Jungkook snapped, foul mood returning with a vengeance.

“Oh my God. “ Namjoon began laughing.

Jungkook stared at him...What the fuck was wrong with Namjoon.

“You’re the one who got attached.” Namjoon’s eyes were wide as saucers, his fingers pointed right in Jungkook’s face.

The younger yelped, stepping back.

“No.. I.. what?!”

“You look so upset that she left you after sex... I’ve seen that kicked puppy look before. You wore that same face when Joowon didn’t cry on his first day at school!! ‘ Isn’t he gonna miss me hyung?” You whined... i remember that fucking face Jeon jungkook!!!”

Namjoon was on the floor now, guffawing and clutching his sides.

Jungkook glared at his friend.

“What the fuck...no i did not!!” He swore.

Namjoon merely continued laughing.

“Oh, the sweet sweet taste of karma. Serves you right Jeon Jungkook, considering the hearts you’ve broken over the years.”

Jungkook glared at his friend.

Namjoon had no fucking idea what he was on about. Him? Catch feelings ?

Like hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t find her .

And when he realized why he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t believe it.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone on a date?” He snapped at Jimin who gave him an unamused look.

“I’m your hyung, you bastard!” The shorter male yelled and next to him his wife rubbed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“What Jimin means is that, Yugyeom came by earlier when she was getting changed for dinner...”

“He came into the room when she was getting changed?” Jungkook stared in disbelief, “ What the actual fuck...”

Jimin choked and Somi let out a giggle.

“That’s not what I meant. Sera came back to the room after closing up the daycare and Yugyeom texted her.... that he wanted to pick her up for dinner. She agreed and told me to tell you that she’ll be back at around eleven...”

“Where the hell did they go? I need an address.” Jungkook snapped.

Jimin stared at him like he’d spouted latin.

“what?” He gaped.

Somi held a hand up.

“Yugyeom’s an old friend of ours. He took her out for dinner, that’s all. She’s been out with him before ...Don’t worry Jungkook ssi... She’s perfectly safe with him.” Somi said quickly.

Jungkook merely shook his head, glaring at the pair.

“You should know better than to do this. You know how fucking good she smells to vampires. How could you send her out of the estate without security....in the company of a Kim , no less? I am right here... It’s literally my job to be with her at al times.. Its what I’m paid to do.... ..why didn’t you tell me...” He shook his head.

Jimin and Somi exchanged looks.

“You’re certainly very dedicated to ....your job.” Jimin frowned. Somi meanwhile was holding a hand up and giggling behind it.

God, he couldn’t carry on a conversation with two people who acted like literal children.

He had to go find the Chief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook blinked.

Once . Twice.

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” He said sharply.

Chief Hwang gave him a confused look.

“I said , you can stay back today evening and help me with the accounts Jungkook-ah.I do know that Sera’s going for dinner with Yugyeom and well, I really need help with the balancing . I think the gardener has been playing fast and loose with buying germanium seeds and charging them as Lilies . Is he pocketing the difference or is there something else going on...”

Jungkook, who really couldn’t give two fucks about germaniums or Lilies , merely stared at the patriarch of the clan, trying to decide if the older man was joking because how on earth was he supposed to just....

“Let her go on the date alone? Without me?” He asked, his tone screaming that he wasn’t okay with that.

At all.

Chief Hwang hummed.

“Yes of course... I’ve known the boy for two centuries. He’s a good man. “

“You’ve known me for five centuries.” Jungkook reminded him , instinctively.

And then he blinked because why on earth had he said that?

Chief Hwang had an amused look on his face.

“Yes of course. And you’re a very fine young man as well, Jungkook. Too bad you think Sera is like a daughter to you....”

Wait.

What?

Was the older man teasing him? Jungkook could’ve sworn he saw a hint of mischief in the vampire’s eyes.

“Don’t you?” Chief Hwang asked.

“Sir?”

“Don’t you think of her as a daughter, Jungkook-ah.? Isn’t that what you told her?”

Jungkook had the sudden terrible feeling that Sera told her father everything.

“Uh..it was just an expression sir. She’s a good ... friend.” He finished.

Chief Hwang hummed thoughtfully.

“I see. Well, Yugyeom thinks she would make a wonderful mate. “ He shrugged.

Jungkook felt his fists clench.

“I still think I should be there sir... Just to... make sure she’s safe. It’s kind of my job.” He said gruffly.

“Are you sure? Germaniums and Lilies are vastly different and for the gardener to-”

“Sir to be very honest I don’t really care about the damn flowers. Sera needs to be safe and I’m not letting anyone hurt her on my watch. So I’d really appreciate if you tell me where she is....” Jungkook said sharply. His heart was pounding.

Chief Hwang gave him a thoughtful glance, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“ Looks like I’ll be planning a wedding after all.” He chuckled thoughtfully and Jungkook frowned, confused.

“Sir?”

“Let me put you out of your misery, Jungkook ah... She’s having dinner at the Hyatt Resort.... The private conference room on the seventh floor. Yugyeom reserved it for her.” The older man glanced at his watch and smiled, “ There’s a fire work show in exactly half an hour. Sera loves those.... If you leave right now, you can interrupt them right on time. “

Jungkook blushed , blood rushing to his face.

“Sir.. I’m not.. I don’t...want to interrupt.” God, he sounded fake to his own ears.

Chief Hwang waved him off with a laugh. .

“Go on go on..And maybe buy me some patbingsu on your way back..!! “

Jungkook stared.

“Uh yes sir. “

“Good. Close the door on your way out, son.”

Jungkook closed the door, trying to ignore the way warmth flooded his heart at the way the man had addressed him.

Son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S nOTE : a short chapter because I wanted to write something from Jungkook’s point of you...also Chief Hwang playing cupid is my favorite thing ever...

@ladyartemesia @veronawrites @alpaca1612 @bonyg @unseejuice21 @sppvjj @ggukkieland @tae-by-tae @blr1004 @yoongichild @stussyjeon @jellybearo @sumzysworld @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon

@preciouschimine

Please come scream with me...

#jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #bts fics #bts smut #bts fanfics

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

you belong with me

Day 11, story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: you belong with me Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur Weasley / Molly Prewett Prompt: Soulmate AU Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None, unless Arthur Weasley trying to enjoy his birthday offends you.

When Arthur Weasley woke on the morning of the 6th February, nothing was out of the ordinary. He took his time, easing out of sleep like a man with nothing to do. He stretched out his body with a loud yawn, then pulled back the curtains of the four-poster bed, ignoring the attack of the winter air that filled the dorm room.

He was going to have a perfect day.

Wiggling his toes on the plush rug next to his bed, he greeted his fellow dorm mates.

“Morning, Ry.” Arthur tipped his head towards the Gryffindor on the bed opposite him. “How’s it hanging?”

Ryan was not a morning person, and he grumbled at Arthur before snuggling further under the duvet. Arthur chuckled and joined in the conversation about the latest Quidditch scores, trying his best to not lament too long on the disappointing Cannons scores. He gathered his wash bag, and made sure he had clean briefs with his uniform, then waved a cheery goodbye as he wandered off to the bathroom, whistling as he moved.

Today was Arthur Weasley’s birthday, and the day he came of age, although the notion was rather peculiar to him. He didn’t feel all that more responsible than he did yesterday, but according to Wizarding Law, he could now leave school, get a real job and get married, should he wish.

He scoffed as the thought of getting married flitted into his head, disappearing as quickly as it came. That would mean actually landing himself a girlfriend, something he hadn’t yet achieved during his six years at Hogwarts. He hadn’t even come close.

As he showered, Arthur mapped out his day in his head. If it all went to plan, he’d enjoy a big breakfast with the rest of his school friends. His classes today were straight forward—double Muggle Studies this morning, then Potions this afternoon. Between these would be lunch, and a free period, where hopefully, he’d be able to go for a fly, if the weather was okay.

If he survived the day, then he and his friends were planning a night of wizard chess, birthday cake and butterbeer, which hopefully Ryan was going to sneak from the kitchens for them.

Shower done, he dried himself off in front of one of the mirrors. As he did, he examined his body. He didn’t look any older than yesterday, there were no new lines or hairs on his body. He was still the same gangly lad with violent red hair and far too many freckles to count.

Arthur settled his glasses on his face, then loosened his towel. Without warning, a soft femine voice filled his head, taking him by surprise.

Merlin, I hate red hair.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he looked around the bathroom for the source of the sound.

“H-hello?” he called out, but the only reply came from the echo of his greeting bouncing off the tiles. “I-is anyone there?”

I wish I were blonde or a brunette—anything but this. Nobody fancies redheads.

His heart pounding, he checked all the nooks and crannies in the room, only to find that he was the only one there. The tips of his ears turned bright pink as he turned his attention back to his reflection. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and a frown covered his face. He was tired. It was the only explanation for the voice that was still filling Arthur’s ears with insecurities. There had been a few late nights in the library recently, as well as some early morning Quidditch practices. They must be catching up on him.

He’s no spring chicken, after all.

Hurriedly pulling on his uniform, he combed his hair then carried on whistling, hoping to block out the now persistent voice in his head.

⁂

The girl’s commentary didn’t stop whilst Arthur ate his breakfast. It filled his ears, dragging his shoulders down with negative thoughts and observations.

Everything is so greasy here, the voice wailed. No wonder I’m putting on weight. I’ll get spots if I carry on eating like this. I wish Mary wouldn’t wear so much perfume. It makes me feel sick.

The negativity depressed Arthur and was the last thing he needed on his birthday. He’d hoped for a nice day, full of presents, and easy lessons and time spent with his friends, but instead, Negative Nancy was ruining his time. He didn’t even fancy opening his gifts, which had been delivered by owl mail just as he sat down for breakfast.

Glancing down the table, he tried to work out the source of the interference in his brain, but the Gryffindor table was full of people, and conversations flew around them from every angle. He sniffed, wondering if Mary’s perfume could lead him in the right direction, but all he could smell was baked beans.

With a sigh, he shoved his second sausage into his mouth, letting the taste of his favourite breakfast food cheer him up, even if it was only a little bit.

Muggle studies was Arthur’s favourite topic, but he found it hard to concentrate as his head filled with arithmancy. He hated the subject, there was a reason he didn’t choose to continue the subject after their O.W.L.’s, so it irritated him greatly that the thoughts were disrupting learning more about muggle bridges. They were such beautiful contraptions, too.

Lunch was just as bad. Although the voice was annoying, Arthur was starting to get used to it. However, what was infuriating him was how familiar the voice sounded, yet he couldn’t work out who it belonged to. Whenever it filled his mind, it brought warm feelings and stirred something new deep inside his belly. Whatever was happening to him, he felt awkward that he was getting a very up close and personal look into someone else’s thoughts. Throughout the morning, he’d experienced such a vast range of emotions, and he felt like he might explode.

His birthday was going downhill rapidly.

By the time Potions came around, Arthur was exhausted. He arrived at class before the rest of his peers, and as soon as he settled into his usual seat, he folded his arms and rested his head on them. He was about to drop off to sleep when…

“Good afternoon, Arthur. Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Arthur’s ears pricked up. It was the same damn voice he’d been hearing all day, but this time it was loud and happening outside his head. Peeking over his arms, he watched as Molly Prewett sat down next to him and gave him a warm smile.

It was her, the voice inside his head. How had he not realised this before now?

Although he and Molly weren’t best friends, she had been his potions partner since their first year, and they often found themselves sharing a table in the library late at night. Could she hear his thoughts the same way he could listen to hers? Or was this all one-sided?

“Oh, yes, it’s fine,” he said, finally lifting his head from the desk. “Perfectly spiffing.”

Perfectly spiffing? He’s never spoken like that before, and definitely not to Molly Prewett. He usually chooses his words carefully around her, not wanting to look like an imbecile.

She giggled, and Arthur goggled at her. Was she only laughing at his choice of words, or was his internal commentary amusing her. His pulse started to quicken. There had been many thoughts throughout the day, some that would mortify him if anyone else heard.

Arthur checked on Slughorn, who was distracted writing today’s recipe on the board. Summoning the courage, Arthur took a deep breath then reached out with his mind. He crossed all his fingers and toes that this would work as he thought hard.

“Hello? Molly?”

All of a sudden, Molly sat upright in her seat. Her face turned towards him, and even through the smoke from their cauldron, Arthur could see that her eyes were wide, and her jaw was almost reaching the desk.

“Arthur? Oh Merlin, is that really you? Is it your voice I’ve heard all day?”

“Yes? I mean, I think so. I’ve been hearing your voice since I woke up, and I was curious to see if you could hear the same.”

A red blush crept from Molly’s neck and onto her cheeks, and Arthur was sure it wasn’t from their cauldron or the heat of the dungeons.

“How much did you hear?” Molly averted her gaze from him.

Arthur paused, weighing up his options. Should he lie and protect Molly from inevitable humiliation? Or should he tell her the truth? It was a difficult choice, and both came with a list of pros and cons. But Arthur wasn’t a dishonest man, and if this problem continued for much longer, Molly deserved to know what she was exposing him to.

Plus, if she was experiencing it too, then she probably had a good idea of what he’d heard.

Reaching a decision, he flexed his mind again. “All of it. I’m sorry, Molly. I tried my best to ignore it all, but it’s all I can hear.”

“What’s going on? Do you think we should go and see Madam Pomfrey?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. The mind-reading was not an illness or spell damage, and they hadn’t been near each other recently, save for right now.

It’s no coincidence that this started on the morning of his seventeenth birthday, and his brothers had mentioned something similar happening to them, although at the time, Arthur put it down to them yanking his wand. They often liked to tease him, as older brothers do.

It was Percival who’d mentioned it, while they were tinkering with a Muggle car in their father’s garage last summer.

“So, this school year is going to be fun for you, Arthur,” he’d said, a smile on his face. “Coming of age, you’re allowed to go to Hogsmeade without supervision, you’ll hopefully get your apparition licence too.”

Arthur had smiled, his stomach lurching with excited nerves. “If I pass.”

Bilius had piped up. “The family record is five attempts.”

“And Dad has never grown his eyebrows back.” Percival smirked at his brothers.

Arthur joined in with the laughter, relishing getting to spend time with Percival and Bilius. Percival had married almost straight out of school, and although Bilius remained single, he was always away on secret missions for the Order of the Phoenix.

Grinning at Arthur, Pervial spoke again. “Of course, apparition isn’t the hardest thing you’ll have to deal with. If the voices start, you’re in for a treat.”

“Voices?” Arthur fumbled with his screwdriver as a frown appeared on his face.

“Yeah, don’t you know?” Percival continued, adding oil to the engine. “When Weasley men come of age, they have a special way of finding their one true love.”

“What? No, you’re making this up. This is all fairy tale nonsense, surely? Bilius hasn’t met anyone!”

“How do think Perce landed his wife so quickly?” Bilius laughed. “Wasn’t his charm or good looks, that’s for sure.”

Percival and Bilius had erupted into giggles again. The tips of Arthur’s ears burned pink. There was no way this sort of thing happened, they were just having him on. But still, the thought had appealed to him. He was so unlucky in love, that the thought of being able to automatically identify his future wife had piqued his interest for sure.

Would he be like Percival or Bilius? Only time would tell.

⁂

Arthur hadn’t thought back on that conversation since it had happened. But if what his brothers had told him was true, then there were worse women in the world to be hearing in his head. Molly was kind and pretty. He’d always had a soft spot for her, but he’d never acted on it for fear of being rejected. Now, he probably didn’t have a choice.

Taking a huge breath, he reached for Molly’s hand and squeezed it. His grip trembled but felt it pertinent for him to try and be brave, given the enormity of what they were facing. In an attempt to distract himself from her internal panic, he wet his lips before finally whispering in a low voice,

“What do you know about soulmates?”

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #marthur #molly weasley x arthur weasley #arthur weasley x molly weasley

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chokemeanakin · 3 years

Note

Heyyy first wanna say that I love you!! 💜❤️🤎🧡💙🤍💚🖤

Next, I’ve been really sick lately, like haven’t been bail to take down food for a solid week, and in and out of hospital for the last two weeks, so could you please write up an Anakin small fic or head canon or just anything with a really sick reader, but she finds it hard to exsept help? Your fives have been keep me alive I swear haha

Okay LOVE YOU💖💖

YOOO IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR WEEEEEEKKKSSS you literally read my mind !!! 😆😆😆 (also I’m so sorry that you’re terribly sick, I’m sending you all my love and I hope you get better soon. I love you too boo thang ❤️) HERE WE GO:

(Also fun fact whump is my area of expertise so if this gets to be really long I apologize — it’s just hard for me to narrow stuff down, anyway, enjoy)

Anakin x Sick (fem) Reader Headcanons:

Gif from @swprequels

The minute you get sick, you immediately shut yourself into your room and hide from the world.

You hate people seeing you at your worst, most vulnerable state. So weak, and needy, and messy and in pain. You’ve always been the type to push people away, no matter how sick you get, because you just can’t let them see you like that.

But like.... imagine you’re new to the temple or something. You haven’t been there for very long, and you still don’t really know your way around. And you wake up at night with the worst stomach pains, like writhing around in bed and crying and begging higher powers for any kind of relief sort of pain.

And you somehow manage to wrench yourself onto shaking legs and dig through the bathroom cabinet, only to find that you have no medicine that can help you.

The next logical step is you go to the medbay, but you have no idea where that even is. And so you’re left to drag yourself down the halls to the only other person who you can think of to help you, the only other other person you want to see right now.

Anakin opens the door shirtless, rubbing sleep out of his bleary eyes. You wish you could feel worse for waking him up when he was obviously sleeping, but your stomach is twisting and turning and a layer of cold sweat is forming over you and you need his help. So you swallow your pride and stand there as he asks, “Y/n? What’s wrong, baby?”

He doesn’t hesitate as he gently ushers you into his room, holding you up as he leads you to the bed. You’re glad, because you don’t think your legs can hold you up for very much longer. And he’s kneeling in front of you, taking your face in his hands and wiping away your tears as you clutch at your stomach and tremble beneath him.

“I-I don’t feel good,” is all you can manage before wincing at a particularly painful stab, shuttering as the nausea worsens.

He’s so worried, eyes scanning over every inch of you. He’s less soft now, and more action as protecting you and figuring out what’s wrong is his first priority.

“What hurts?”

Everything hurts, but you settle with the most pressing offender. “My stomach.”

His eyes drop to your arms, which are wound around your middle like you could squeeze the pain away. You’re hunched over, shivering violetently, skin pale in the darkness. Very obviously sick, although now he has to decide whether it’s bad enough where it warrants a visit to the medbay. His heart twists painfully.

“When did it start?”

“A couple hours ago.”

“Did you eat something?”

He’s rubbing his thumb along your cheek, capturing each cold tear as they’re occasionally squeezed out of your eye.

“Not that I know of,” you whisper. “I had the same as everyone else.”

“Okay,” he says after a moment, then stands. He keeps one hand gently cradling your face as he reaches behind you and pulls the blankets back. “You wanna lie down?”

You want to say yes, but suddenly you’re hit with a particularly excruciating twist of the stomach, and you know it wouldn’t be a good idea. If you move even slightly, you’re pretty certain you’ll be spilling your dinner all over the floor. The thought has you moaning slightly, curled even further into yourself, shaking your head. “Can’t.”

“Alright. That’s okay. Do you think you’re gonna be sick?”

A terrible wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you force yourself to nod.

Anakin doesn’t even have to ask to know that you won’t be able to make it the bathroom. He wouldn’t want to subject that to you anyway, knelt on the cold tile floor before the toilet. No, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

So he takes his garbage can and makes sure it’s clean before setting it on the floor or in front of you, in case you need it quickly. You’re hanging your head, sweating and shivering and whimpering every so often as the pain builds and builds and washes over you in waves.

“It’s okay,” Anakin sits beside you, hand rubbing your back in grounding circles. “Focus on your breathing. It’ll pass soon.”

You stay there with him like that for a long while. At one point, you’re begging him for some pain meds, or anything that can take the pain away, but he has to refuse because you’re just going to throw them up anyway. He feels awful saying no, because you begin to cry again and lean forward.

He senses it right before it happens. With lightning reflexes, he snatches the bin off the ground and holds it under you just as you begin to get violently sick.

It’s not pretty, and that thought is knocking at the back of your mind as you clutch onto the rim of the bin, emptying your stomach over and over and over, barely able to catch a breath before you’re hit with another round.

Anakin sits right next to you through it all, dragging his fingers along the nape of your neck to gather your hair over one shoulder, rubbing soothing line and circles into your back, hushing you and telling you to let it out, that you’ll feel better once it’s over.

He’s right about that. Throwing up scares you, and you hate it with everything in you, but for the time being you feel a little better. Once your food stops forcing its way back up and you can finally breathe, there’s a moment where the awful stabbing pain in your stomach is quiet and you can open your eyes and lift your head.

“You think you’re done?”

You take a moment to assess your nausea, not wanting to be hit with a surprise attack and make a mess all over the floor. But for the time being, your stomach has settled and now you’re left as a trembling, weak, shell of a human, barely able to sit upright on your own.

You nod and wipe your mouth, disgusted with the contents now on the back of your hand. Your pajamas have been soaked in sweat, and you’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. You’re too weak to care a whole lot, but the shame still bubbles up in your chest.

Somehow he’s got a glass of water, and he’s handing it to you so you can swish and spit. “Small sips, angel.”

Anakin sets the bin down, running his hand over your hair once more before standing. The loss of his warm presence has you shivering violently, teeth clacking together. “You want a bath? Or do you just want to go to bed?”

You don’t think you’d be able to sleep with your clothes stocking to you like this, so you choose the bath. He kisses your forehead once, saying, “I’ll go run it now. Stay here in case you get sick again.”

You nod and he leaves, the sounds of the faucet turning and water splashing into the bath sounding from the bathroom. He comes back to help you up, hands fitting right onto your disgusting sweaty and vomitty body as he half carries you to the bathroom.

And then he helps you get undressed, lowers you carefully into the water, kneels by the side of the tub and holds your hand.

Your eyes are closed and your head is pounding, achey and queasy and tired. You know you have to wash up, but you can’t seem to lift your arms.

So he does it for you 🥺

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, gently rubbing it into your hair, using his hand to shield your face as he carefully washes it out. Running his hands over your arms and the top of you chest with soap, lathering you up and then rinsing again. And then he’s squeezing water out of a cloth, running the damp material over your face to clean it of sweat and sick.

And when he’s done, he stands and promises to be right back as he takes the bin full of vomit to the communal bathrooms, dumping it out in the toilet and then washing it in the showers. It’s early hours of the morning so no one is there, but he’d do it even if people were looking at him like he was crazy. 🥺

And when he comes back, he helps you out of the bath and bundles you up in a big fluffy towel. Runs it over your skin and dries you up, and helps you stand as you request to brush your teeth.

And then he brings you back into the room and helps you dress in some of his clothes, a pair of his sleep pants that he has to tie the string extra tight so they’ll stay up, and roll the cuffs up to your ankle about 10 times until you can walk without tripping. And he’s also got some sleep shirts that he’s never worn, and you swim in that also so he rolls up the sleeves until you can see your hands.

And now all you want to do is fall back into his pillows and go to sleep, but he asks you to hold on a while longer so that he can get you some meds. And he has you take some pills, encourages you to drink some more water, (“slow, baby”), and then he helps you lie back and get comfortable.

And if you wake up later in the night to get sick again, he’s waking up right along with you, holding you and hushing you and being the sweetest person you could ever ask for.

In instances like this, you can’t help but need and accept his help. And he doesn’t mind giving it, in fact he wants you to come to him. Anything that brings you pain, he’ll destroy.

And he’ll make sure you eat as much as you can, and that you’re drinking water. Constantly asking you how you feel, if there’s anything he can do. Runs a cold cloth over your face to soothe the fever, and massages your aching muscles until you’re all better.

The voice he uses when you’re sick 🥺. He knows that any noise can hurt your head, so he lowers his voice and it’s so smooth and deep and rumbly. So soft and gentle 😭 the sweetest voice bc his baby is in pain and he just wants to take it all away 🥺🥺

In other cases where you’re sick, like you have a cold, you’re more stubborn. You shut yourself away as soon as you get the first symptoms, denying any hint that you might be getting sick, until suddenly he realizes he hasn’t seen you in days and stops by to find you buried under covers, surrounded by tissues, all lights off in your apartment, sleeping fitfully.

And so he’ll sigh a little, clean up your apartment and then sit and watch over you. When you wake up, you’ll groan and burrow deeper into the covers and demand he leave. But he’ll just tell you to be quiet and drink this water.

Demands you tell him the moment you feel sick next time, even though he knows you never will. And then when he gets you some medicine and food, your cheeks are red with embarrassment and fever as you bashfully accept them.

But ofc you’ll get over it soon because Anakin’s here now and you might as well be miserable in his arms. So you push the covers off your overheating body and reach across the bed for him, practically falling into his lap from where he’s sitting on a chair by your bedside.

And he just simply catches you and strokes your hair and hushes you as you bury your wet eyes and flushed cheeks into his chest, sniffling pathetically.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he’ll promise, and hold you in his warm arms and rock you until you fall asleep.

Getting sick on Republic Cruisers is the worst. When that happens, you’re either on your way to or back from war. And so usually people are busy and running around, or exhausted and beat up. The ship is cold and everyone has their own problems to worry about, but you feel like ass and you just want to be alone with Anakin.

He feels awful when he sees you, and will order everyone out of the pilot’s room. And then he’ll clear the passenger seat off, urge you to sit down, wrap you up in as many blankets as he can find, and when he can only find a couple, he’ll sacrifice his Jedi robe. And you’ll nuzzle deep down into the cacoon of blankets and inhale the scent of Anakin’s robe, fall in and out of consciousness as you’re lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of the ship.

Anakin wishes there was more he could do for you in these instances, but the food isn’t good and there’s not usually any medicine. So he’ll keep a hand on your knee, or let you hold his hand in your lap as you sleep, and he’ll send a little surge of peace and soothing energy through the force and into you.

Will 100% find an excuse to carry you off the ship when you land, and then spend the rest of the day lying with you and tending to you and trying to make you feel better 🥺

He’s so caring and so protective and sweet. His gentle side really comes out, because his #1 thing is that he needs the people he loves to be safe, so if an illness is hurting you he will do anything he can to take the pain away.

Yes, he can’t take care of himself sometimes. But the minute you’re feeling a little under the weather, suddenly he has a PHD in medical science and he’s nursing you back to health like an expert 🥺

Also he’ll never deny you kisses when you’re sick, even if you warn him he might catch it, he just hushes you and kisses you softly on the lips. Then on the chin, then the nose, then the forehead.

Will always brush off your inability to accept help. If you say “no” or “leave me alone” or “I’m fine go away” he’ll just roll his eyes and plant himself there. Bc no matter how stubborn you can be, he’s even more.

And when you keep apologizing, obviously feeling awful for having him take care of you, he’ll just hush your worries and hold a tissue to your nose and go “blow.”

And then he’ll stay with you and watch over you until you’re all better. And even when you get back into the swing of things, he’ll watch over you like a hawk while you’re recovering 🥺🥺

You might get shy and ashamed and embarrassed when he tries to help you, but he doesn’t mind. You’ll just have to come to accept the fact that he’s always going to be there for you, to help you and hold you and make you all better ❤️

Sweet boy is so good to you 🥺🥺🥰

Taglist:

@a-sterism @artiza-n @anakinswhore @monamourani @haydens-moles @anakinlove @ani-skyvvalker @wirelesswaterbottles @anakinsbestgirl @sarahb1024 @etherealsanakin @lucasfilms77 @lolquarth @jedi-general @anakinsslag @dripobi @anakinsprincess @babykinskywalker

Join the Taglist!

#ani fluff #soft ani #anakin skywalker #Anakin x fem reader #Anakin whump #Anakin x sick reader #Star Wars fics #Anakin Skywalker x fem reader #Anakin Skywalker whump #Anakin Skywalker x sick reader #Anakin whump headcanons #Anakin headcanons #Anakin Skywalker headcanons #Star wars sick fic #Anakin sickfic #Anakin Skywalker sickfic #sickfic #whump

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the-slasher-files · 3 years

Note

Lester n Vincent ( hcs) reacting to reader who is having a really bad anxiety attack and they pass out in their arms please and happy new year 🥺✨

Congrats you're my first person to request Lester lol Happy new year to you as well!... Ok so I went kind of wild with these and made them longer story based hcs, also added more slashers just for fun :) Hopefully I did Lester justice since this is my first write for him! Also warning, there is gore, blood and stress lol.. enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS REACT TO S/O THAT HAS A PANIC ATTACK

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT and LESTER

JASON VOORHEES

It was a night you saw him kill for the first time. The blood covered the branches of the bushes and oozed in the soil around you. The moonlight illuminated the plastic hockey mask now sprayed in a crimson paint, his chest rose and fell deeply, enough to see some bones sticking out from unhealed wounds.

At Jason’s feet were 3 teenagers' corpses. You knew what he did but seeing the bodies be brutally cut down 10 feet away from you was another story.

When you had woken up from a nap Jason was gone, he didn’t tell you people had been at the camp, if he did you would not have been on this walk in the first place, but you knew he would never wake you up. The words stupid, stupid, stupid screamed in your brain as you watched the bodies twitch and pour streams of blood. Would Jason be mad at you? Would he hurt you too? oh my god is that person really dead or still breathing?

You started to breathe heavy and choke when they caught the back of your throat violently, Jason moved towards you slowly. Even though you knew how gentle he was with you, you still questioned him at this moment; the blood flowing beneath boots, the smell of rich dirt and copper, the way the nature fell eerily silent following the high pitched wails of the victims, and the way the creature tore through the bodies with ease. It was all so animalistic. Wicked and ruthless.

Locking eyes with Jason you walked back a few steps, his blue eyes were dark, pupils blown with something you had never seen before, this was the killer of camp crystal lake. Throwing his machete to the ground he held out his large hands, gently pulling up his mask as if that might help.

Your throat was closing and hot tears started to flow down your cheeks, broken gasps and whimpers rose from your chest as Jason stood towering over you.

“J-jay..” you cried and felt yourself go lightheaded as his large bloodied hand reached for you, one last tough inhale and your world went black.

Coming to, you were in the cabin, with the fire roaring and about 3 blankets on top of you. A large shadow stirred from the kitchen and came into the light. It was Jason with a hot towel and your favourite drink, softly he smiled rushing to your side. He was maskless and all cleaned up, looking under the blanket you were just in your underwear and a t-shirt, cleaned from any blood.

Kneeling down beside you Jason gingerly brushed a few stray hairs from your face and kissed your forehead. You could tell by the way he lingered and how soft his touch was that you scared him and made him worry. Pressing his forehead against yours Jason squeezed his eyes almost trying to tell you that it hurt, you hurt his heart, scared him so badly and made his nightmares come true. It wasn’t your fault he knew and made you aware of that by his touches and kisses.

The sight of you sprayed with blood and going limp under his grasp was something Jason had only seen in the darkest corners of his mind. He is making sure you stay put and knows exactly where he is going next time.

MICHAEL MYERS

The door creaked open to the bedroom, you had been laying there for a while in and out of sleep, just waiting for Michael’s return. He never slept well, so often Michael found himself lurking in the shadows of the night, or just watching some tv downstairs not wanting to disturb you.

Rolling over you squinted, trying to see in the darkness “Michael..” you whined, reaching out slightly into the shadows.

Soft eyes started to adjust to the darkness and you were met with eyes that weren’t the cold gaze of your lovers, they were alive with curiosity and there was a different maliciousness. This was a much different predator, one the shadows rejected and gave up to you. It was a smaller man in height and muscle, dressed head to toe in black tight-fitting clothes.

A scream left your lips and you tried to scramble away when gloved hands grabbed your ankles pulling you closer to the stranger. His body weight leaned against your frame, his smell revoltingly encapsulated yours; sure to the average person he might've smelled nice but you only had taste for one dangerous cologne, the one of rich copper and animalistic musk.

Kicking and screaming only one name left your lips, "Michael". It was the only thought you had. You knew Michael would come for you, he always did in bad situations. Your scream was his soft siren call and he was the broken sailor beckoned; however, it was much more possessive and raw than that. Michael never liked his things to be tampered with. You were his and that was that.

The stranger above you reached in his pockets and found some zip ties, struggling but bounding your legs and wrists together. “what a little fighter” His words sharp and almost making you gag.

Your breath became more and more ragged, blood pumping and heart racing loudly in your ears, while streams of tears flowed. Crippled whimpers and wails caught in your throat more and more with each stroke of the stranger's gloved hands.

That’s when something stirred in the hallway, a flash of navy and white them seamlessly blending into the shadows like a perfected craft. This was his art, not the strangers. “You should be afraid” you choked out. The man gave a laugh “of what?”

“Of me” a deep growl spoke from the shadows. The man widened his eyes looking directly into yours, as Michael reached around and slit his throat from ear to ear. Blood spraying over you, the bed and running a deep crimson river to the floor, choking and deep gurgles filled the air. You watched the life drain from the man's green eyes and he reached out for you to help him ironically. Michael grabbed the man looking him in the eyes, feeding his own sick desires of watching a soul leave the body or maybe wanting the stranger to meet the cold inhumane gaze, making him terrified as he died.

Even though you knew the more than tense situation was over, you just witnessed a man die; he was bleeding, clutching his throat fruitlessly, life leaving his eyes and grabbing for you. It was all too raw and your throat was closing, you could taste the unfamiliar copper on your lips making you shudder in disgust. Michael ripped off the white mask and he propped you up under his knee and one arm, while the other was on his dripping blade.

“Mi-Michael, please” you whimpered against his chest feeling yourself go fuzzy and limp. A rough shake kept you awake for a moment then you saw his knife coming towards you to cut the zip ties and that was it, the world went black.

Waking up, you coughed and sputtered at the warm water that was splashed in your face. You were in the bathtub, warm pinkish water surrounded you and a large hand cupped your jaw while the other wiped some blood away from you and rubbed at the marks on your wrists.

Meeting Michael’s cold gaze, it wasn’t cold, it was oddly warm still with that edge that his damaged eye gave him. “Baby” you whispered reaching a shaky hand to run along his cheek and sharp jaw. Michael didn’t turn away or roughly remove your hand like normal, he allowed your touch and leaned into it, closing his eyes and whispering barely audible “I’m sorry”

BO SINCLAIR

The screams and gunshots had stopped. Only the muffled classical music flowed from the basement where Vincent was working. Usually, Bo would come immediately back home, dragging his bloodied adrenaline-filled frame through the front door. 10 minutes went by then another and another. You began to grow worried and sick to your stomach with anxiety.

Hesitantly you grabbed one of Bo's jackets and heading out to the garage. The familiar scent of ash, teakwood and grease eased you enough to walk down the dimly lit abandoned streets.

Rounding a corner, from the shadows a man reached out for you, it was a man you had seen from this morning and left with Bo in the gas station. He was still alive, covered in blood but still alive. The man pulled you against the wall of the old building. Your heart pounded in your skull and your breath became broken and hitched, hearing footsteps pounding towards you the man whipped you around, placing you in front of him like a shield.

You met the dangerous baby blues of Bo, he was seething, shoulders tensed, neck stiff with veins popping and hands on his shotgun. "Let. Her. Go." Bo's words coated in venom, a wickedness you had never heard before. "Bo" you whimpered as the stranger tightened his hold on you, now placing a sliver shiv to your collar bone.

"If you let me leave, I will let her go.." the stranger negotiated. "We both know that can't happen... how ‘bout you let her go and I won't make ya suffer" Bo shifted his hand on the gun and the stranger raised the blade to your chin, your tears were uncontrolled at this point, silently pleading with Bo to do whatever the man said. "Fuck.. Alright, alright" Bo began to place the gun on the ground slowly, but nodded twice at you, a signal he practiced with you, closing your eyes and inhaling as much as you could, you knew what you had to do. Do what Bo taught you, just in case this might ever happen.

With one quick motion you grabbed the man's wrist pulling and twisting, using your hip to fuel momentum, yanking the man down in a struggle you managed to grab the blade and stab into his neck. At this point it was just adrenaline, you were never supposed to actually kill him, Bo taught you just to wait, but the damage had been done. Blood was on your hands, oozing and spraying with each thump of the man's heart. The scared look in his eyes made you wanna choke, you would never forget this. The whole scene was too raw. You had just killed a man.

Quickly Bo came to your side and beat the strangers' skull in with the end of his shotgun, it was brutal, gory, unmerciful assault. He was gone but Bo was lost in rage, the man touched and threatened what was his.

“Bo... Bo p-please, Bo” your cried pushing yourself along the cold asphalt. Whipping around Bo was not human, he was a beast, covered in blood, huffing and bearing his teeth. “Bo enough” you shook frozen in his gaze “B-baby” whispering to try and bring him back. Bo dropped the bloody gun and stepped towards you, kneeling down he held you, felt every broken gasp and shake. The scene replayed in your head over and over again, suddenly you gave a whimper and felt yourself go limp under Bo’s grasp.

Waking up your eyes adjusted to the warm yellow lighting of the old house, loud footsteps moved in a pattern, back and forth Bo paced until there was some muffled yelling “What do you mean there is nothing you can do?!... she just went limp... Fuck I don’t know... how could she just be fine?!” You let out a whimper and shifted on the old couch and Bo practically ran to you, cupping your face gently but always with a rough edge. His eyes were red, possibly from tears or adrenaline, he shook and breathed heavily.

“Baby, don’t ever do that again!” Bo yelled, most likely rougher than he initially intended but he kissed your forehead gingerly. “You scared the shit outta me!” You knew his yelling was just his fear. The nightmare of losing you could’ve come true tonight, and once the adrenaline wore off you knew he would be gentle again and hold you all night.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Coming home from a shitty day your anxiety was already higher than normal, you labelled papers wrong at work and just couldn't seem to do anything right today; All you wanted was to just get comfy with some bad food and lay in your boyfriend's arms, forgetting the world. Carrying your exhausted stressed body into the old home, it was quiet; Bo must have been at the garage and maybe Vincent was downstairs.

Tossing your bags and shoes off to the side, you made your way to the basement, guided by candlelight. The eerie silence, the hot air and the creepy faces in the wall made a less than relaxing atmosphere. With each creek of the stairs, your heart seemed to race faster, even though you had made your way down these stairs hundreds of times before there was a different energy here, one with malice, one that drew tingles up your spine.

Rounding the corner, Vincent stood behind some sort of contraption made of metal and leftover medical supplies. The structure held a wax-coated body, one of the men you had lured into town yesterday. Vincent had always kept you away from the making of his creations, it was a brutal process, especially when he usually left the victims alive, Bo said “it gave them more expression if they’re still livin”

Vincent was lost in focus, smoothing the skin and creating delicate textures, if you didn’t know it was a real life person under the wax it honestly might have been soothing to watch, but you swallowed hard at the reality. You felt your throat started to become scratchy and closed with anxiety, clearing your throat it drew the attention of your boyfriend across the room.

You must’ve scared Vincent by your presence because he jolted the metal structure and there was a loud snap. A deep red oozed from the neck of the wax body and pooling on the floor. Vincent’s blue eye looked down to the body then back to you, watching as you covered your mouth and shook.

Rushing over to you Vincent gently placed a hand in your hair and one on your arm trying to steady you, pulling your chin up you saw the worry on his face under the wax mask. He could feel your ragged breathing, shaking and Vincent could have sworn he heard your heartbeat. Clutching his chest you felt yourself go lightheaded and fall into him, your eyes closed as Vincent held you.

Gingerly opening your eyes you felt a hard body underneath you, the room was dimly lit by the lamp on the bedside table, and you noticed a glass of water was next to the lamp. A hand carded through your hair while the other ran a cool towel against your forehead, Vincent sat up slightly so he could meet your eyes when he noticed you had woken up.

Softly smiling you spoke “Di-Did I pass out?” Vincent just nodded slowly and signed ‘Do you feel ok?’ “yeah.. I think it was just an anxiety attack” Vincent kissed your head as you continued “...and I didn’t each much today” He frowned but nodded again, ‘Stay... I will grab you some food’

LESTER SINCLAIR

“Why the hell is Louisiana so damn hot?” you ask irritably uncomfortable in the truck as Lester came into the drivers side. This morning wasn’t exactly ideal and you got a terrible sleep, Lester tried to help but it just gave you anxiety. You hated these days when just out of nowhere you would feel anxious for simply no reason, but thankfully Lester never blamed you or made you feel bad.

“I know baby girl, it’s s’possed to be in the hundreds all week” He said turning the key making the old truck come to life. Groaning, you tried to roll down the window and it wouldn't budge just adding to the torture "oh man, I forgot to ask Bo to fix that, sorry cupcake" you glared at the name he gave while Lester just laughed rolling down his window.

This morning you decided to drive around with your boyfriend, cleaning up the roads of any roadkill. You had never done it with him before and honestly you kind of felt bad just sitting at home, not ever helping him.

Mindless chatter and laughter made the ride short and Lester tried to distract you from your own anxious mind. Pulling over it was not a pleasant scene, the poor thing was bent and broken with blood smeared all over the road. “oh my god Lester... poor little deer” you stood back allowing Lester to pull the deer over by the truck.

“Necks broke.. the thing didn’t suffer” Lester gave you a gentle smile and nodded trying to make light of his gory job. “Ready?” he asked as you helped lift the deer onto the flatbed of the truck.

Picking up one more deer carcass along the way, you were now headed to ‘the pit’. You had been there only once before, when you met Lester but he had never let you go back since. Even he didn’t stick around the dumping grounds often.

“If ya wanna stay in the truck it’s fine” Lester smiled. “No, no I’m ok” you insisted jumping out of the truck. The smell was unbearable, flies swarmed and the gore was horrifying, especially to an animal lover. Your heart started to race and you felt like throwing up, but you tried to push it away and continue to help Lester dragging the deer into the pit.

“Ya alright?” he asked looking at your frozen figure. There was a hand. A human hand sticking up from the middle of a deer carcass. You couldn’t hear Lester’s calls for you, your heart pounded too hard and your breath seemed to be stuck in your throat. Quickly Lester moved behind you trying to move you away from the scene but suddenly you went limp and passed out.

Coming to, you were laying in some grass, a nice shady spot away far away from the pit. Lester was running toward you with a water bottle from the truck and coming to sit next you, he propped you up on his knee handing you the bottle “Fuck ya scared me baby” the stroked your hair and held you tight. “Sorry Les” you whispered looking into his soft brown eyes. “Don’ be sorry.. I never should’a let ya join” Lester bent down to kiss your cheek and wipe some blood away “Can we just go home and shower?” you giggled.

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