#{they are dissections but u have to look back on it and hey wait a minute before there a big time gap and the look back again and go 😖}

[thebadtimewolf]

hi hi hi

i wonder if there are some gaps in tentoo's memory that he really wanted to remember but its on a planet that this universe doesnt have. Like gallifreyan lullabies - the language. Theres no tardis to translate so, how immensely sad would that be?

i wonder then if rose remembered the bits that were missing because nine used to sing it to her after a Rough* adventure and while thry dont finish each other sentences, its still coherent enough to lull a toddler tony and then later on baby mia.

its only back to our world/main that it was jack who remembered all the words. because he sang it to a baby that he saved or something to calm said baby. and theres tears in his eyes and he goes softly "sorry, i dont have my trio anymore" because there was an adventure where all three sang to lull a monsterous alien beast.

i wonder the words that were lost are remembered by jack. i wonder why the decision was to send jack off before dropping rose and tentoo off. was it because jack wouldve spoken the words the doctor could never say for him? was it because jack wouldve wanted to stay with them. to become a trio again, the con man the union jack and mr. spock 2.0. was it because then there would be no reminders of her then? no one else that also shared memories of her? shared memories of them both?

how devastating that the one you avoided completely on purpose is the only one missing to finish your motherland's lullabies to a godchild they'll never meet.

anyway. what if gwen and nine make an audio together?!

(*when? pick a ninejackrose comic girl because they were going at the same level as class mixed with torchwood and a dash of sarah jane adventures every comic. at least they eased up a wee bit but dang)

[stellar-constellations]

i see u pleading for an andrew request so IM GONNA DELIVER 😼 what if. academic to lovers college au where y/n and andrew get assigned to a group project or smth (ion get how college works YET) and it’s actually really fluffy?? like maybe slightly yandere andrew where’s he’s a lil possessive but nothing too toxic that would scare a girl away irl.,.. okay that’s my idea good luck 🤧

Yandere! Andrew Graves x Reader (College AU)

Wordcount: 1,500+ words

Andrew and you had the same history class and your professor paired the two of you up to research about WWI and create a presentation for class. You couldn’t use the internet for research, so you had to resort to digging around the city's library.

Andrew was a bit annoyed at first for this project. He preferred working alone, it made it so others wouldn’t get in his way while working and so he could have all his work credited for. 

Andrew quickly grew to respect you when you actually took the project serious instead of placing the work on him because he was smart, or just goofing off and not contributing. He respected that you could work efficiently at a decent-pace, but also you could have fun too. You could crack harmless jokes, and you could make something as boring as studying entertaining and fun while still taking your deadline and work seriously. 

Andrew quickly breaks out of his shell with you. You just have some sort of aura that draws him to you, he can't help but laugh at your jokes or guide you through the books with him. 

By the end of the first study session, Andrew leaves feeling happy to spend his time researching with you, and a bit sad that he has to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

The next day, you both go back to the library to research some more material for your project. You gather up what books you want to dissect today, sitting down at a table with Andrew to study, but he seems a bit distracted now.

Andrew's eyes drift from the pages to you repeatedly, he couldn't read a full page without looking at you twice, which made your work less efficient.

        "Are you okay?" you finally questioned.          Andrew seemed surprised that you caught him, his green eyes flickering in surprise, before he cleared his throat.         "Um... yeah. I'm just thirsty." He lied. "Hey, do you want a drink? There's a coffee shop not too far from the here. We can continue studying there?" he suggested.          "Sure." You smiled, seeing no harm in it.

        Andrew looked relieved that you accepted his proposal. You both gathered your materials and books, walking together to the library. Andrew stayed walking on the side of the road, a silent act of chivalry that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't observing him to see if he was alright.

        When you got to the coffee shop and ordered your drinks, Andrew sat next to you in the same booth, your shoulders as he claimed it would be easier to point out what one another is talking about and to hear each other better in this crowded place. 

        Even though you both had gotten your drinks, Andrew's mind was still somewhere else. He was too busy staring at you, thinking of how pretty you looked with how your hair was done, or how your eyes looked in this coffee shop's lighting, or how you bit your lip slightly when you started to daydream while reading about the boring events going on for your project.

By the end of your second day together, you both had to leave the coffee shop because of how late it got. Andrew was disappointed he had to leave you, but he knew he'd see you tomorrow. 

On day three, Andrew woke up early and stopped at the library to check out some books for today's study session. He dropped them off at his apartment, cleaning up his apartment some before walking to class. He sees you and sits next to you during the lecture, making small talk with you before class started. 

Andrew and you goofed off a bit during class, but were still pretty productive helping each other out and not being too distracting to your other peers, so your professor allowed you two to stay seated together.

When class was over, Andrew mentioned how he picked up books earlier this morning during a grocery run since the library was just around the corner from him (liar). He said the books were at his apartment and that you both can study at his place.

You agreed. It'd be easier to study someplace where you wouldn't get kicked out for staying too long or for being too loud, and it's also helpful for if you get thirsty or hungry. You and Andrew walked to his apartment together as he walked on the side traffic was. 

Andrew almost wrapped his arm around your waist, but felt that it would be too intimate for now (he didn't want to scare you after all!) He instead placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 

When you questioned what he was doing, Andrew leaned down into your ear and spoke: "it's loud out here with the traffic and all, this just makes it easier to hear you."

You ignored it, following him back to his apartment. He unlocked the door and allowed you to step inside, before closing it behind you and locking it. Andrew took you to his bedroom, saying the books were in there. 

The books were on his bed as Andrew sat down on it, looking up at you, as if telling you to join him in bed. You did, sitting down next to him and picking up a book to start analyzing. Andrew had a bit of a hard time focusing with you in his room, on his bed, alone with his company. He was able to manage, reading and going over the topics with you. 

Andrew played soft jazz music in the background, claiming that the music was around the same time period as the project, so perhaps it'd get them in the mood to keep studying or maybe the lyrics could have something mentioning the project. Either way, the music and all this reading was starting to make you sleepy.

Andrew noticed how your eyes drooped, and how your head started to bounce up and down as you tried to keep yourself away. He hid his smile by hiding his face with his book. Before you could try leaving, you fell asleep on his bed next to him. Andrew noticed, and after a few minutes of making sure you were completely asleep, he placed both of your books down on his dresser, writing today's research papers for the two of you since you were asleep.

Andrew curled up next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he admired your sleeping figure. He kept the jazz music playing in the background, just in case you woke up from him turning it off and so it looked like he fell asleep too when you would eventually wake up.

When you woke up, you were fairly confused and flustered that you had fallen asleep in Andrew's room, and even more flustered once you realized you not only fell asleep in his bed, but his arms too. Andrew stirred awake when you tried to move out of his grasp, realizing you woke up. He apologized (fake, of course) and said that when he sleeps he usually hugs a pillow, so he must've thought you were his pillow when he fell asleep.

It was a reasonable answer, so you accepted the apology and moved on, getting ready for class. In the next few days, you and Andrew were able to finish your project and presentation together, getting a perfect score with each other's help. 

Andrew was disappointed that you two couldn't work together on the project together, so he proposed that you two become study buddies and help each other study. You accepted, making Andrew happy that he still got to see you and hang out with you after school alone. 

When Andrew left to go back to his parent's apartment, he made sure to call you about the situation at home, the contaminated water and the quarantine and all. He called you everyday, for hours at a time as you both fell asleep on the phone lines. 

When Andrew's calls faded all of a sudden, you were pretty concerned for him. He still wasn't in class, and he hadn't called you in almost a week despite your phone calls every day. 

It wasn't until you got a knock on your apartment that you saw him. When you opened the door, Andrew rushed in and immediately picked you up, spinning you around in the air as he smiled. 

"(Y/N)!" he smiled brightly, his hands on your hips as he spun you in the air happily. "Andrew!" you gasped, a smile making way on your face as you couldn't help but laugh as his actions. "Where have you been? Why haven't you been calling me?" you questioned, your face turning in confusion when you caught the whiff of something metallic on his clothing.  "That doesn't matter." He smiled, setting you down on the ground as he looked at you adoringly.  You noticed something on his cheek and used your thumb to wipe it off. It was a small blotch of red. Strange... "That doesn't matter anymore. She tried to keep us apart, but I wouldn't let that happen." He spoke, his eyes half-lidded as he stared into your pretty ones. "Nothing matters anymore. I'm here with you now." 

        Thank you for the request! I'm a huge simp for Andrew (especially yandere) so I had such fun writing this!

        Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is open for requests!

[kairiscorner]

hi hii lovie!! would u mind doing a short blurb of miguel being with a harleyquinnfem!reader? i just rewatched suicide squad and birds of prey and i just think margot’s harley quinn and miguel would be such an iconic pairing given those two have complete different personalities lol, thank you!! hope u hv a good day!

HELLOOOOO !! OMG, ok i just wanna preface this, i am not exactly very well-versed in a lot of DC characters so i'm really sorry if i end up not doing requests for those characters or if the execution is really shitty, BUT THIS ONE IS SOMETHING I'M A LITTLE MORE FAMILIAR WITH AND ONE I WANNA SEE :'DD again, REALLY SORRY IF I DO IT HORRIBLY 😭😭😭but here ya go, i hope you like it anon <:))

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel o'hara x harley quinn!fem!reader

summary: you two agreed not to kill each other, which is easier said than done; but someday, eventually... you'll come to realize that he sees you as more than an extra hand in fighting off tricky villains, that he cares about you more than you'll ever know. word count: 853

right as miguel thought that this would be the end of the line for him as the villain kept him pinned against the ground–about to dissect his innards and skin him like a spider to be taxidermied–he soon heard cackling from far away. he rolled his eyes further into the back of his head in an attempt to roll them weakly out of exhaustion as he groaned in utter defeat.

'great, that pain in the ass knew i was here.' he thought to himself as you came with a bang–quite literally as you blew up a street on your way here and caused 12 cars to crash into each other. "hey you ugly, bowl cut bitch!" she called out to the villain miguel was being pinned down by. you giggled as you jumped up in the air and swung your gigantic mallet at the cybernetic villain and bashed her head in. you licked your lips at the destruction, and the villain–despite looking banged up and having a few sparks flying out of the right side of her head, smirked at you. "that all you got, ya little harlot?" she asked as her grip on miguel's neck tightened, eliciting groans and grunts from her sheer strength.

you giggled as you swung your mallet for show. "now, now, if anyone's gonna choke little miggy 'till he's blue in the face and sobbing and begging for forgiveness, it's gonna be me." you declared as you jumped up again and brought your mallet down to squash her–but the villain aimed at you with their finger guns and shot lasers at you as you were in mid-air. you grinned wider as you contorted yourself in the air to dodge the lasers; you were very flexible and super fast, and miguel knew that very well. the villain didn't give up, however, as she shot at your blind spot, getting you by your feet and causing you to lose balance as you got shot in the knee.

you grunted in pain as you fell down, with the villain laughing as she turned to miguel. you got up and watched as the villain leaned over to kiss miguel, "fucking gross." you muttered as you tried getting up to your feet, when you heard the villain yelp a little as she froze up and loosened her grip around miguel. you giggled as you watched miguel get up and look at you from the corner of his eye. "all yours." he muttered as he helped you up.

"wait," he said as he webbed up the gaping wound in your knee from the shot. "can you walk?" he asked you with a tone of concern in his voice. you didn't answer him as you climbed onto him and whispered in his ear, "toss me." miguel was used to this showy scene, though he hated doing it–out of fear he'd throw you too far. he followed through however and tossed you at the villain, who was recuperating from the paralysis miguel's venom gave her. taking out this villain was like a walk in the park for you as you brought your mallet up and whispered a little, "bye-bye!" as you brought down your vengeance–or just utter desire to hit something right now–upon her with a loud smash!

you skipped over to miguel with a bright smile on your face. "job's done!" you said with a perky voice as miguel rolled his eyes as he looked over at the damage you caused on your way here. "this is, what, four million dollars in property damage?" he asked you sarcastically, to which you giggled and counted on your fingers. "correction, fourteen million dollars!" you said with a giggle as miguel opened a portal and gently took your wrist in his hand as he dragged you along. "hey now! you promised me that next time, we'd go sight-seeing in the universes we're in! how dare you break your promise, miggy?!" you whined as miguel placed his hand under your chin and gave you a stern look.

"when you'd behave." he said as he leaned down a little towards you. "it'll happen if you prove to behave yourself, and this little stunt you pulled off, it calls for a good talking to with you. you'll get what you want from me if you behave, do i make myself clear?" he asked you as you nodded slowly and smiled up at him. "gotcha, miggy." you said in a chipper voice as you walked through the portal, then running back out, but with miguel grabbing you by the collar and dragging you back in. "the things i do for you..." he muttered as he rubbed his eyes. though, weirdly enough... he finds your chaotic way of saving him a little endearing. either you've pissed him off so much that he misses feeling responsible for your mess, or it's that you've had his heart ever since you tried to kill him the first time you two met. ah, well, it doesn't matter now; as long as you're safe, and will get that wound fixed up, he wouldn't have you any other way.

a/n: i love this dynamic WAIT AAAAAAAAAAAAAA also thanks ate @binibinileonara for risque's nickname :> also SHET PARE, i fr was so desperate to see miggy's eyes roll to the back of his skull when the vulture was choking him, like- please.

tags !! @binibinileonara @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @yuridopted0

[molinaesque]

hi so i was reading one of ur posts (tysm btw i love anyone that dissects raphael) u said this:

"If you look at Raphael's ambitions and how much it has consumed and plagued him for centuries, he has technically failed over and over and over (his inception by itself is seen as a failure by his own kin)"

can you elaborate on that? where can we see these ambitions? and what do you mean by his inception being a failure? this is so very fascinating to me and i'd like to learn more!

Hey there! Glad you enjoyed the post!

Okay, so I realised that post would be more clearer if you had exhausted almost every possible line of dialogue or notes from Raphael and know about some of existing D&D lore. So, my bad on that part.

We know about Raphael's ambitions and primary goals through his dialogue in Sharess' Caress and the epilogue. This would be The Crown. We know he has been coveting this for a very long time. As to how we know why this is so important for Raphael because he tells you The Crown has immense power. If you know about how the hells and the devils work with their system and hierarchy, having power = more standing = more freedom (as in freedom to do whatever you please). Raphael tells us that he has been at this for 1000 years. I see those failures being the Crown being stolen away by his father first and then by a soul who was supposed to be under Raphael's charge (this is Gortash). Beyond that, basically him obsessing over the Crown and not being able to find a way to gain it ONLY UNTIL Tav and co comes along (along with The Dead Three bringing the Crown back in play) can also be seen as a failure of sorts, because he STILL had to wait for fate to play its part, so this was still beyond his agency. His diary entries also give a really good insight into how much this goal has plagued him for a long time.

As for his inception, cambions are seen as a result from an unholy communion. That's not really the problem per say, but rather who is involved that makes the cambions. In Raphael's case, he is more powerful and noteworthy from most typical cambions because his devil half is from an archdevil, Mephistopheles. His other half though is a mortal human, which is not looked upon fondly. Raphael's unique position however (being practically a prince and heir to the most powerful devil besides Asmodeus) is trumped over by his situation and circumstance of being Mephistopheles' son. Mephisto, in the case of Raphael, does not treat his kin highly. In fact it seems he acts as if he does not exist. On top of all this, devils in the hells climb up the hierarchical ladder to become more powerful. Raphael if he were just a plain devil would have a better time doing so. So not only is he stopgapped by his own father despite being of the blood of an archdevil, he is also held back by his other half of being a mortal. It's a very unique predicament and it's completely out of Raphael's hands... UNLESS he can find the means to get out of it himself. Thus, power = more freedom. He plans to become Archdevil Supreme so that he doesn't have to answer to ANYONE. Besides that, he wants to instill more order and control in the Hells by uniting it under one banner and end the Blood War. There are MANY things to go over why this is insane, but that's another topic for another day.

Hopefully, this clears things up a bit! It always is much clearer in my head to explain until I lay it out in text and realise, "oh god i need to provide so much context", so sometimes details get lost in translation. 😅

[iaus]

⭐ actually I was gonna wait till I had a specific scene but I don’t have that restraint talk abt what ever u want. Don’t think I’m not coming back for a real scene dissection tho

the way i was like. the scene i want to go over for darling hasn't been published yet. who's gonna get that slacker. it's me. i'm the slacker.

anyway. you know what we're gonna do?

i'm gonna hurt my own feelings.

it's ruben time.

okay so. to preface this: i waffled over this scene for a long time. i knew that i wanted jace to have this weird chance encounter with someone. i entertained like. multiple characters.

the first iteration of the grocery scene was going to have jace running into yolanda and have him ponder if he actually felt guilt over what happened to her. and he was just going to kind of wander the store watching her from the corner of his eye with her never being aware of it. then the next version was him actually talking to her- her not being sure why he's being so cagey to kind of hammer home the idea of no one knows you were involved. no one cares. and further isolate jace. but then i didn't really like that idea. i thought it made yolanda too unaware which did not feel fair to her.

so then i thought. well. maybe one of the bad kids? (fun fact, the first draft originally had jace have a freakout that a van that passed him while he was walking home was gorgug's van. it didn't feel... appropriate for the tone.)

i entertained the thought of fig for a little bit. but that didn't seem right. i thought maybe even gorgug would be a potential interesting encounter since he has all these (rightfully) negative memories of porter which could have been interesting. to have jace kind of grapple with the fact that he is remembering porter so fondly, is yearning for him and then he's faced with a student that porter abused quite honestly. though. i think that might have been a much more upsetting scene because i straight up think epilogue jace would have been like. no. you deserved it. you deserved that push. you got what you wanted right? (which... i still have really complicated feelings on how gorgug's situation was handled in the season. but. i digress.)

but then. as i finally sat down to write the scene i realized.

there was a perfect character to fit into this. there's someone who was both there for everything that happened, who knows what jace did. but who also... in a sense wasn't. so the idea of ruben this kid who is shown at the end as sweet and soft-spoken who asks about his puka shells first thing... it fit AND here's another character who ankarna has resurrected! so.

first things first.

jace is 100% at a whole foods/trader joe's type situation but i could not for the life of me think of a fantasy name for it so i gave up immediately and moved on with my life. little details like this can hold up my writing process so much. but i need it known.

ANYWAY.

i wanna start out with this part:

He looks at Ruben out the corner of his eye—he’s a different person: His hair’s cut, back to its natural curl, and pushed out of his wide eyes; heavy makeup replaced by the tiniest hints of eyeliner and a clear coat of nail polish. He’s wearing floral print and cargo shorts. He doesn’t remember the last time Ruben called him anything but Jace—emphasized with a roll of his eyes and a teenage sneer that had always gotten on Jace’s last nerve.

appearances are huge and this definitely a ruben jace hasn't seen for a long time now. maybe since freshmen year. there's even a difference in how ruben speaks to jace. he calls him mr. stardiamond again. my elaborate headcanon for ruben and jace is that ruben was in jace's freshman common class and he like. attached himself to jace and jace has no idea how it happened.

he'd never admit it but he is somewhat touched by the fact that ruben (at one point) thought of him fondly. so this meeting catches jace off guard not only for the fact that ruben doesn't automatically scream and be like HEY HE'S EVIL but the fact that he is seeing a ruben he associates with as much younger. then we get into jace distancing himself immediately.

he doesn't call ruben by his first name he calls him mr. hopclap. and he is polite. he asks ruben how his summer is even though he's weirded out by the fact that ruben seems happy to see him.

and then ruben tells him:

“Weird,” Ruben’s voice pitches up with excitement, “you heard about all that stuff at the school, yeah?”

which for jace is such a red flag. he's still used to shatterstar ruben who's a little bit more of a shit so this puts him more on edge. we as readers already know about ruben's amnesia, about the fact that he's lost at least a year of his life. which i will cry about if i think too hard.

and we get:

“Well, I don’t remember it much—but my uncle said I was involved? That Mr. Cliffbreaker was?”

jace is finally getting a feel for the situation. that he has knowledge that ruben doesn't. it's not comforting because we then learn he is the reason ruben is here. he saw himself in ruben-- and since he saw himself he saw potential. and jace is absolutely shaken by this.

he thinks ankarna took his magic from him. who's to say she didn't take ruben's memories because it was too painful for him? (i personally see ruben's amnesia as a trauma response but... y'know.)

anyway they talk a bit. ruben is genuinely excited. he is remembering jace as this kind teacher who listened to him in freshman year. he's not assigning the inherent baggage that is now present because he doesn't know about. and... since he is seeing jace as an adult he can trust at this moment.... he opens up to jace when jace honestly isn't even seeing him.

“Mr. Stardiamond… I think I did something really, really bad.”

i think the absolute worst part of writing this scene is that it made me think of a few different kids from my site. i had some kids that really bonded with me and i sort of channeled my interactions with them into this scene.

jace talks about it sort of at a distance in this scene because he can't get too close. ruben reminds him of him. (probably from middle school.) and a part of him does bring ruben up as a candidate to porter because ruben is kind, he's timid. he needs validation. like jace. he is a prime candidate for manipulation... because jace was. so. here's another candidate for the plan.

jace. fails. ruben. before epilogue even starts.

and in this moment jace fails ruben again.

ruben is reaching out to a trusted adult and, in his own way, telling this adult who he has seen as a safe person before...

hey i think i fucked up. can you help me.

and how does jace respond? what advice does jace offer?

“Do you remember it?” Jace keeps his voice quiet. Ruben shakes his head. His eyes fill with tears. “No, but—” “Probably for the best, then.”

even before he tells ankarna take this chance at redemption and shove it. he's already rejected it.

by rejecting ruben.

[jeniffercheck]

i come to add another prompt to your list 🧎‍♀️#6 please for shivlina

#6 - "Be gentle, please." & the sickfic request (i hope this hits what u were looking for!!)

It’s late (or early, depending on who you ask), and they’re sitting Shiv’s kitchen table, dissecting Waystar press mentions from the last forty years. Press mentions from the 80s, interviews from the 90s, her dad’s first fucking tweet.

“Of course he called the president a twat,” Karolina says. “I can’t believe they left it up.”

“Yeah,” Shiv snorts, saving the link. “I’m sure it put a real dent on Waystar’s reputation.”

She adds it to the compiled mentions for the memorial video, an end-of-year Waystar Gala, aptly set to honor the Life and Times of Logan Roy. It’s Karolina’s job to approve all of the options, and Shiv somehow convinced Karolina to let her help.

“Busiest man on the planet, yet he always had time for a tweet,” Shiv says. “I’m sure PR was a sanctuary before Twitter was invented.”

Karolina shrugs. “I think I prefer deletable tweets over waking up to New York Times quotes that were never run by the department,” she says, pulling a clipping. “We should burn everything from the 80s.”

“What?” Shiv says, “Dad wasn’t a goodhearted champion in the fight against AIDS?”

Karolina laughs, the noise quickly turning into Karolina clearing her throat as her face falls.

“Are they bad?” Shiv asks. She never had half a mind to seek out her dad’s commentary on devastating social issues, but she can’t imagine that whatever he did say warrants such a grim expression.

“No,” Karolina says. “No, he didn’t—I mean it’s bad, but it’s normal bad. We’ll probably find tweets with the exact same statements. Just won’t use them.”

Shiv nods, not quite believing Karolina as she winces into her computer screen, fingers rubbing lightly at the bridge of her nose.

“You alright?” Shiv asks.

“Yeah,” Karolina sighs. “Just need an eye break.”

She stands and moves into the kitchen, and Shiv can hear the rattling of pills as Karolina pulls out a bottle from her purse. Shiv says nothing as Karolina returns, typing away what’s most likely a note to omit anything and everything from the 80s. They work in comfortable silence for a while, Shiv flagging items they may have missed and Karolina adding them to her folder until Shiv notices Karolina’s hand has returned to her forehead, eyes closed this time.

Shiv rubs Karolina’s knee to get her attention. “Hey,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Just—a headache,” Karolina says.

“Just a headache,” Shiv says, “or something more?”

“It’s fine—I-I should go home—” Karolina attempts to stand, her hand dropping and eyes opening slightly, but not without a deep wince that has Shiv immediately pulling her back into her seat.

“Woah, slow down,” Shiv says, hand returning to Karolina’s knee. Shiv looks around her white kitchen, the sun reflecting through the eight-foot windows and hitting every marble surface like a perfect blinding death trap for Karolina in this current moment, unsure how Karolina can even make it through her apartment, let alone outside. “You gonna make it all the way across town with your eyes closed?”

“I’ll just call a car, and wear sunglasses,” Karolina says, her voice getting tighter with every word. Shiv doesn’t think there’s a chance that they get Karolina out of this kitchen if they wait any longer, the time for Karolina to make it back to her own place already passed. She recalls the last time she found Karolina with a migraine—at home “sick” from work according to Gerri, but not having responded to a single message from Shiv in over 24 hours—hiding under a fortress of blankets to shield her from the light and not having had as much as a sip of water in probably a day and a half. Karolina said that one was mild, but that she hadn’t been much in the practice of preventative medicine then.

“No, no way,” Shiv says. “We talked about this already—let me help.”

“Shiv—” Karolina starts, but her fist closes up and she lets out a pained breath, argument forgotten.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shiv says softly. “Let’s go upstairs. Can you get up?”

Shiv grabs both of her hands, about to pull Karolina up when her quiet voice rings out, “Just—be gentle, please.” Shiv pauses, moving a steadying hand to Karolina’s back.

“I will,” she says. She helps her stand, growing mildly concerned at which the tightness Karolina’s holding onto Shiv. “You took something already, right?”

“Yeah,” Karolina says, her voice shaky. Shiv guides her through the apartment, going as steadily as possible until they make it to the bedroom. She helps Karolina into the bed, and gets to work closing all of the blinds, silently thanking the developer for installing the ridiculously excessive blackout blinds that she’d made fun of when she first moved in. When she’s finished, she kneels next to the bed, relieved to see at least a little bit less strain on Karolina’s face. Shiv grazes a piece of Karolina’s hair, tucking it lightly behind her ear. Karolina sighs in response, opening her eyes slightly. Shiv can see that it’s still painful even with the minimal light in the room, but there’s also a level of defiance that she knows not to press in the current moment.

“Do you still want what we talked about?” Shiv asks quietly.

Karolina had laid out the ground rules for Shiv after the last time—how much light to let in, how much movement to make, what pills to take and when, how loud to talk, when to say anything at all—and she’s determined to follow them, regardless of how much Karolina doesn’t want her to.

“This is more than enough, Shiv,” Karolina says, closing her eyes as Shiv strokes her hair again.

“Well, I don’t mind,” Shiv says. “So, how about I lay down next to you and play with your hair the way you like, and you’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

It takes Karolina a few deep breaths and a furrowed brow to give in, her voice annoyed as she lets out a light, “Fine.”

Shiv keeps her movements slow as she climbs into the bed behind Karolina, taking care not to disturb her position. When she settles in, her hand returns to Karolina’s hair, massaging the back of Karolina’s head. She stays like that for a while until the light peaking through the edges of the curtains has disappeared and Karolina’s breathing steadies into something more like slumber, and Shiv goes to remove her hand, ready to escape the bed to get them both sustenance. As soon as she pulls away, Karolina speaks up.

“Shiv?”

“I’m right here,” Shiv says, leaning back down. Her hand returns to the back of Karolina’s head, and Karolina sighs again, a sign that it’s been bringing her some sort of relief. “How does it feel?”

“About the same,” Karolina says, her voice tired. Shiv frowns, knowing there’s not much she can do to help. Before Shiv can respond, Karolina’s speaking again, words that Shiv hates she feels like she even needs to say. “I’m sorry, Shiv. This is—”

“This is your life,” Shiv says. “I’m glad I can be in it. Don’t apologize.”

Karolina flips herself over before Shiv can stop her, and she lets out a pained breath before resting her head back down, pressing it lightly into Shiv.

“Even when my head’s exploding?”

“Especially then,” Shiv whispers, settling back into the bed.

She’s starting to think there isn’t anything that could keep her out of Karolina’s life.

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[happytroopers]

Sick days // Hunter x reader

My google history search after this: what do they call toilets in Star Wars? Star Wars rabies?

Summary: I would do anything for Hunter, even take care of him when he has food poisoning. I saw a sick day prompt list and didn't end up using anything but it inspired this cluster fuck

TW: throwing up, alcohol mention but no use, bad writing I just love him ok

"Hey, have you seen Hunter? I need him to sign off on some damage reports." You announced as you entered the cockpit of the ship as it barreled through hyperspace, throwing a pointed look at Wrecker who was the main reason for most of aforementioned damage reports.The other members of Clone Force 99 made some sort of acknowledgment of your existence. Wrecker grinned obliviously at you as continued doing bicep curls with a GONK droid while Tech made brief eye contact with you before going back to some sort of machinery he’d dissected. Crosshair was the only one to actually somewhat answer your question, giving you a sassily quirked eyebrow and motioning down with his toothpick. "I’m assuming that super vague motion would mean he’s in the cargo hold?" You pressed but you had already turned around to go find the sergeant. "Should we tell ‘er?" You heard Wrecker ask but when no one answered him, you assumed things would be fine. Besides after almost a year with the Bad Batch, you’d walked in on them in all sorts of compromising moments. Nothing would surprise you anymore.

After popping down the ladder into the cargo bay, you did a cursory sweep. Crosshairs rifle was disassembled on a crate for cleaning, more of Tech’s mechanical experiments in a heap by the bay doors, your own trunk of belonging… but no sign of Hunter. "Hunter? Are you down here?" You poked a little further into the sleeping quarters, like any room that housed four soldiers who didn’t know how to mop, the smell chased you right back out. Shaking your head you thought to yourself, That should be considered a hazard zone. You paused by the fresher to listen for water running but heard nothing, which officially meant Hunter hadn’t been anywhere you checked, Hell, did he jump out of an airlock? Just as you were about to give up, you heard an awful noise come from the fresher. Like a bantha dying in a fire. Did some animal stow away? Absentmindedly you considered getting Wrecker to handle it- the last thing you needed was contracting some planet-specific strain of rabies. But then you considered that in the process, Wrecker would probably destroy the entire bathroom. And then everyone would be without a bathroom for the next two days… and that could get ugly. Then the noise came again, bringing you out of your mental debate. With a heavy sigh, you decided you’d have to check it out yourself. So, after pulling a random tool off your belt, you let the door slide open. To your surprise, Hunter was the first thing you saw, bent at the waist over the vac tube, bracing himself with one shaking arm against the durasteel wall. His helmet was discarded carelessly two feet closer to the entrance, and the enhanced trooper was heaving breaths, looking rather haggard. Almost stupidly the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Oh my God, did the animal do this to you?" Hunter actually startled, which had never happened before. He was impossible to sneak up on, it was his whole thing. When he did look up at you, he looked confused, among other things. His skin pallor was four shades lighter than it was supposed to be, slightly greenish gray, and dew dropped with sweat. "Animal? What animal?" "The animal that made that-" You cut yourself off suddenly feeling dumb, now lamely dropping your defense tool. Then the disbelief, "Oh my- that noise was you?" He didn’t get the chance to answer again, instead turning his head back towards the vac tube to wretch again. Now with that information, the haggard appearance made more sense. "Hunter… you look like shit." You scolded, hesitantly moving closer, “Like, legitimately corpse like.” The sergeant coughed a bit before throwing you glare, “Thank you, (Y/L/N), that’s very helpful. Did you need something?” Damage reports long forgotten, you ignored the question instead more concerned with the trooper in front of you, “Why the hell are you standing like that? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Hunter was confused with this sudden line of questioning, turning his head to gag a little bit but this time he kept it under control to answer you, “Clones don’t get sick.”

“So this is normal for you?” You snarked right back, “Here, try kneeling, it won’t take as much of a toll on your body like that.”

At first he didn’t listen to you, just when the ship hit a patch of turbulence it triggered another wave which forced him to a knee. Then it hit you, clones don’t get sick, they’re engineered with near perfect immune systems.

“You’ve never been sick before have you?” You whispered sympathetically, he legitimately didn’t know how to handle being sick. Frowning, worried welled up in your stomach. It was almost painful to watch the man be so sick, after all how many times had he saved you or helped you out of a tight spot, so you looked away until he quieted again. This time he took a minute to catch his breath so you took some liberties.

“First, let’s get your hair off your neck and face. You’ll feel less gross.” You promised, going behind him to gently scrape his long hair into a makeshift bun and tie it off with a spare hair tie.

“What are you doing?”  He croaked, but didn’t pull away from your hands.

“Taking care of you, now shut up and let me.” While your voice was still kind, you were just stern enough not to argue with you, “Now, lean up.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow the orders, instead you started unfastening pieces of armor on his arms before moving on to the chest and torso pieces. Moments later he was able to move a little freer and his armor from the waist up was neatly stacked to you right.

“There, that should help with the overheating.” You announced, not mentioned how he couldn’t bend over properly with a piece of plastoid against his abdomen. You gave him another once over, he was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, little baby hairs already escaping your rather pitiful man bun situation. You’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“So clones don’t get sick, why are you throwing up like my roommate after her twenty first birthday?” You asked quietly, gently moving the stray bits of his forehead.

“Would you believe that I ate an expired meal ration?” He asked with enough doubt in your voice that you immediately shook your head.

“You’re not that stupid Hunter.”

“I lost a bet with Crosshair and had to eat part of the Yalbec stinger. Tech did say it was a delicacy on some planets.” He sighed, dry heaving again.

“I also remember him saying it was mildly poisonous to humans.” You reminded him, going past him to the shelves that held shower things. Reaching into your own caddy, you produced a rag before wetting it in the sink.

“Yeah, I lost the bet before he enlightened us.” Hunter admitted, visibly relaxing when you put the cold rag on his neck before sliding into a sitting position next to him, “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Well, us normies get sick a lot.” You teased, laughing when you caught the disgusted look on his face, “But, I learned most of this stuff taking care of my hungover friends.”

“Oh, just your friends?” It was Hunter’s turn to sass you, but you just rolled your eyes. The two of you fell into a halfway comfortable silence, so you took your data pad to do a little research on Yalbec poisoning.

“You don’t have to stay for this?” Hunter reminded you, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. When you looked back over to him, he was staring at you. Even when puking, his eyes could stare straight through you. Hurriedly, you dropped your gaze back to your data pad.

“Well, you spend all your time taking care of them,” you motioned up towards the cockpit, “And me. So someone has to look out for you when you need it, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

His eyes softened as he relaxed slightly, you were glad to see his coloring was already getting better. But after a few moments, even the softness of his stare brought a flush to your cheeks so you just cleared your throat, “Well, the good news is that the holonet says someone of your size and weight will be fine. Symptoms should pass within twelve hours at the most, and it’s already been five.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Your head snapped back up, he rarely ever called you by your first name. Somehow it almost felt intimate.

“Of course, Hunter.”

You scooted a little closer so that your knees would touch. Closer than you had ever been to him, but he didn’t scoot away. You smiled at the small contact, shaking your head.

“Can I impart on you a bit of civilian wisdom?” You asked teasingly, not even waiting him to nod. You took the rag off his neck and used it to dab sweat off his forehead, “Don’t eat random things on a dare, especially things you cut off foreign animals.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

[tthankstoyou]

hi ana!!! i also appreciate the quinncedes content a LOT! been thinking about them lately.... do u have any quinncedes thoughts you'd like to share

Hi hello yes I sure do have some thoughts I’d like to share... and you will get those thoughts in the form of a one-shot 👀

Either read it under the cut or here on ao3

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

“Hey Mercedes, it’s Quinn. I know that we haven’t talked in a while, but I just took a listen to your new album and wanted to congratulate you. You never fail to amaze me. Call me back when you get the chance, my number’s the same from high school.”

Quinn ended the voicemail and put her phone down. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she just took a listen; the album ended just a few minutes before she picked up the phone. Looking back, Quinn should have waited a little longer. She should have put her thoughts together better. She had so much more to say about Mercedes’s music.

You never fail to amaze me.

She doesn’t know why she said just that, it was like nothing else could come out of her mouth. But it is true, Mercedes always took her breath away. Quinn should’ve said something more. She had so many thoughts about her friend's music. This is what happens when she doesn’t think.

Quinn spent the next hour running over possible conversations in her head. This, now this was something that Quinn was good at. She was good at planning and making sure that everything was perfect. Sure, things may not always work out how she wants them to, but she's good at planning nonetheless. It was something that Mercedes once said she liked about Quinn; how she always prepared little speeches in her mind. Mercedes said that she should work in politics because of that, Quinn wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Of course there were times where things went to shit and she had no idea what to do. That’s when Quinn was at her worst. Like when she slapped Rachel after she lost prom queen. None of that was planned. I mean, who would plan to slap someone in the bathroom during prom. The worst part of that night, was that when she was running from the stage out of humiliation, she thought Mercedes would follow her.

She didn’t.

That’s when Quinn knew that things were over between them. Mercedes was doing whatever with Sam, and Quinn was alone. Technically she had Finn, but she didn’t care about him. It sounds heartless, but it’s true. Quinn wanted to be prom queen, and she needed Finn to help obtain that title. Finn was just in her life to win a crown.

When she was with Finn all that she could think about was Mercedes. She couldn’t help it. The other girl was always running through Quinn’s mind. It’s silly to think about, considering how they were never really an item.

They never kissed. They never confessed their feelings to each other. They were never anything more than friends.

The unsaid hung over them like a cloud. You don’t have to tell the other person you love them for them to know how they feel.

Neither of them could deny how their heart raced when they held hands. It was something special between them. They understood each other. To this day, Quinn has never met anyone that could read her mind like how Mercedes has. And the same goes for her, Quinn had Mercedes memorized. After living with Mercedes, she learned her little quirks. Like how she’d hold her hands in front of herself when she was nervous, or her little eyebrow raise when someone was annoying her. To Quinn, Mercedes was like a poem waiting to be dissected. She wanted to study the girl and learn everything about her.

That’s why when Quinn first heard about Mercedes’s new album, she rushed to pre order it. If she asked Mercedes would probably give her a copy for free, but they haven’t talked in five years. Plus Quinn would rather help her sales.

Quinn wasn’t expecting to get a sudden urge to call Mercedes, it just kind of happened. The last track on her album ended, and the next thing she knew, she was dialing Mercedes’s number.

She was hoping that listening to this album would give her some sort of closure. Quinn would listen to it and feel at ease knowing that Mercedes is on her way to becoming a star she was born to be. That was her plan. Everything changed once the song closing song came on.

The song might have been about anyone, but it reminded Quinn of what they had. Mercedes was a permanent part of Quinn, something that she couldn’t just forget about, like a tattoo. Quinn had been convinced that Mercedes hadn’t felt the same about her anymore. She thought that Mercedes must have moved on. She had so many men and women that would do anything to date her. Quinn thought that there was no way that Mercedes was stuck thinking about her like how Quinn was stuck thinking about Mercedes, but these lyrics showed that she was very wrong.

Thinking about you as I lay my head on my pillow Transported back in time To when you put your head on my chest And mumbled in your sleep, “I wish you were mine”

Quinn was pretty sure this was about her. It reminded her of the times that she would go to Mercedes’s house after school. They would lay on her bed together, with Quinn often ending up resting her head on Mercedes’s chest as they cuddled. Of course the cuddling became even more of a regular occurrence when Quinn moved into her house. She had trouble sleeping at night, it was hard finding a comfortable position to sleep while pregnant. Mercedes would always let her lay with her. She sang Quinn to sleep while running a finger up and down her arm. Mercedes did tell her that she talked in her sleep, she said that she found it adorable.

All is well as long as you’re here Given me something to hold onto when all else failed And all I can think about is how I wish you were mine

It could easily be just a coincidence or Quinn relating her life to things that have nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t help but think about freshman year. When Quinn saw Mercedes struggling in the Cheerios. She wanted Mercedes to be stronger than she was and not give into Sue’s disgusting weight loss tactics. If she had it her way, she would have gotten Mercedes to quit the Cheerios right then and there. She knew that Mercedes was too good for them. When Quinn first joined Glee Club, she just had a hunch that Mercedes would go onto great things. To be honest, Quinn thought Sue’s torment was holding Mercedes back. She may or may not have celebrated when Mercedes told her that she quit the Cheerios. And look at her now, showing the world the star that she is. Just what Quinn knew she was capable of.

Despite everything We were strong together I wish you could’ve been mine I wish you were mine

Everything that Mercedes was singing about was just too familiar. Quinn couldn’t help but relate it to their… thing. But she didn’t want to have her thoughts consumed by that.

She shouldn’t be so fixated on a silly little crush she had in highschool. That was years ago, Quinn was a different person now. Quinn didn’t even know if Mercedes would like the woman she’s become. She was so different from the person she was back in Lima, Ohio. Quinn could barely recognize that girl.

All of those thoughts flew out of the window when she heard her phone ring. The number flashing on her screen had a Los Angeles area code… which could only mean one thing, Mercedes was calling her back. Quinn quickly answered the phone and melted into the voice on the other end of the call.

“Hey Quinn, sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m glad you like the album.”

“I’d say ‘like’ is an understatement”

“I’m in New York right now visiting Kurt and your call got me thinking. How would you feel if I met you for dinner? I can take the train down to New Haven this weekend. That way we can get a chance to catch up… I miss you,” Mercedes said.

“I miss you, too. So much.”

“I’m in a rush and I have to get going, but I can’t wait to see you. I’ll text you later tonight. Bye Quinn.”

“Bye ‘Cedes,” Quinn said before Mercedes ended the call.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered into the phone after Mercedes hung up.

[actualbird]

zak rambles about childe for way too long

okay this is gonna be LONG (and it’s so long i had to make it a text post instead of an answer bc i had to save draft every once in a while JKBDJFSD) and also NIGH INCOHERENT. 

BUCKLE UP!!!!

How I feel about this character

LISTEN. LISTEN GUYS. //puts my face into my hands. listen.....at first i was just into him because he was pretty, then i was into him because he introduced himself as “kind of a bad guy”, then i was into him because he could turn into a bIG HUGELARGE MONSTER. and then...well...i made a meme, actually, depicting the process i went through

like okay, let me dissect every part. 

i love a pretty boy. a love a cocky, confident pretty boy, and childe is That. he was prime zakbait even from the beginning. i was hooked ever since “hey, girlie”

then he activated my monsterfucking instincts. IT IS ILLEGAL FOR ME TO DISCLOSE HOW MANY TIMES IVE WATCHED THE FOUL LEGACY TRANSFORMATION. I DONT WANT YOU TO KNOW AND ALSO...YOU DONT WANNA KNOW.  

then i read his backstory, read fanfic for him and went. oh. oh NO. OH DUDE, THIS BITCH WAS MADE FOR ME, HUH....

poor little boy from the middle of nowhere, poor little boy who fell into hell, poor little boy who had to become a monster to survive, who clawed his way back to the surface with something different in his eyes, something horrible, hungry, vicious. he was just fourteen. he was just fourteen when something changed him.

and he was not the same after that

HE WAS NOT THE SAME AFTER THAT!!!!! //WAILS

listen im a sucker for basically any character i can project on and mhyo gave me this dude who hides the monster he is behind a charming smile and confident demeanor. so hes basically my punching projection bag HAHA.

but really. really. hes a damn good character. hes bad and he knows it, he outright tells you this upon meeting you and yet. and yet his heart has a softness to it. and yet he is kind in a misguided way that makes you wonder if in all the rush that he had to grow up immediately, there are parts of him that are wholly still so young. hes bad, and he made that choice, he keeps making that choice and yet. 

and yet hes still a boy from the middle of nowhere. i wonder if he misses the feeling of being held. i wonder if he misses the times when his family wasnt afraid of him. i wonder if, given the chance, he would change the past or if he thinks this was how it was supposed to have gone, always. this was how he was meant to be;

just a monster trying to be a man. just a boy trying to be more. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I SHIP HIM WITH BASICALLY THE REST OF THE GENSHIN HUSBANDOS KSJBFKSJDGSD. zhongli? yes. kaeya? yes. diluc? yes. aside from the husbandos, im also interested in signora/childe (of the EXTREMELY FUCKED UP UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP VARIETY). all of this is partly because [n//s/f///w] im just game for any ship that results in childe getting railed and obliterated

but truly, im very flexible with ships for childe. i ship him with any character that can bring out the parts of his own character that he tries so desperately to hide. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

hmmmm this bit actually made me think. i guess im interested in childe&traveller!

My unpopular opinion about this character

I DONT WANT CHILDE TO BE REDEEMED. HONESTLY! HONESTLY. i dont want him to defect from the darkside. if anything, i want him to go even darker (like going from the fatui to serving the abyss). hes a character that, for me, is more interesting if he...doesnt get a happy ending. i want him to break. i want him to....wait lemme move this to the next bullet point

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

some of yall will throw rocks at me for this, but i want childe to 

well

die

like truly and unrevivable, wholeass dead dead

NOW BEFORE U THROW THOSE ROCKS, THIS AINT JUS BECAUSE I LOVE WHUMP!!! i genuinely think that him dying is like....it’s Right.

childe’s whole shtick is that he pushes his limits. we see that in how he battles, how he trains, in how he uses the foul legacy transformation. but we also see this in other ways. like how he lies to teucer about his job even if it’s unsustainable, he stretches himself thin to protect teucer’s dreams. we see that in his voicelines, how he wants to push himself to conquer the world and all that jazz. so much of his character is about this notion of finding the limit and breaking past it.

in that quest for more, i want him to break for good. 

it feels right, in my mind. 

the man always looking for a battle finally beaten. the boy turned monster finally made human in the most painful way. 

anyway thanks for these asks, anon!!!! i dont think i made sense thru this WHOLE POST!!

[jaigeye]

for the prompt meme: 20, rex + saw thank u

30 multipurpose prompts. ( rex + saw. ) / read on ao3

"how far can you carry this?"

Onderon is in the Japrael sector. It's inner rim, but not a bad place to hide when you've got business in the area. And Rex has- well, he has plans, so to say, here on Onderon. It's unusual for him to be so untethered. He hasn't taken or given an order in ages. 

He spent six days on a little neighboring planet called Morvolo, keeping track of how many times he saw its four moons and trying to bear the bitter cold weather. He had to hide; Rex was certain he'd been tracked to the sector, and it would be too obvious to go to Onderon first, so he set his ship on the ice floats and waited. There's no food on Morvolo, no animals or insects or life at all, really. Just him and the infinite tundra. 

For all these reasons, he hasn't eaten in five days. The rations dried up quicker than he'd thought. Usually he wouldn't be so careless; Rex is nothing if not organized, prepared for all outcomes. 

Anakin used to say-

No. He scrubs his face and sits on a crate in the little camp. It's hard not to think of all that when he's back here again- the only real difference is that this time he's unaccompanied. He scrapes the heel of his boot in the dirt and stares hungrily at the beast that's slowly cooking on the spit in the center of camp. It's being slowly dissected and loaded onto different rebels plates, but he's only just arrived and nobody seems to know what to make of him, so Rex waits for the right moment to come along to get some for himself. If they'll let him.

He could try to hunt. It's not an entirely foreign concept to him. The forest is so alive all around them. It puts him on edge; Rex isn't familiar enough with the flora and fauna of the area to rightfully judge what is or isn't a threat, so he eyes even the meekest of lizards with suspicion when they pass him by. 

"Hey," says a deep, steady voice, interrupting the nothing he was doing. "Your name is Rex, isn't it?"

He glances sharply, at first suspicious that anyone would so easily recognize him, much less recall his name but then he sees him and his defenses collapse. 

"Yeah," he rasps. His voice is a little worn from disuse. "Rex."

Saw Gerrera leans against a tree, a plate in each hand. An easy smile lingers on his lips. Rex's eyes linger there a little, too, but then the food is too tempting to ignore- and Saw must notice, because suddenly he's holding it out to him the way one might entice a cautious animal It works embarrassingly well; his stomach clenching with hunger, Rex huffs and reaches out to take it.

"I'm Saw."

He stares at the meat and the rice on the plate, not yet eating, still caught between his manners and his ravenous hunger. "I remember." 

(How could he ever forget a man like Saw Gerrera?)

Saw nudges his shoulder gently, urging him to scoot so he might sit beside him. Rex flinches. "Sorry," he mumbles, making room. 

If he noticed his reaction, he doesn't bring it up. Saw just settles in beside him, rests his plate on his armored knees and looks at him. "You can start eating, you know. It's fine."

He can't help it; Rex brings it up to his mouth and tears into it, starving, and surely the rice is sticking to his hands and he must look frantic but he doesn't really care. It's been three days. He was so cold, out there, and he'd resorted to holding a pebble in the back of his mouth just to taste something, waiting it out. He'd stayed in his ship, shivering, melting blocks of ice in cans to drink.

It's amazing, frankly. The food. It's juicy and fresh, so hot it burns his fingers a little as he pulls it apart and it smells like spices he's never tried before but will certainly crave in the years to come. It's coated in butter, sharpened by onions, and whatever sauce it's been doused in is a little caramelized.

Rex lived off nutrient gruel for most of his life back on Kamino, so things like this are still.. exciting. Overwhelming.

Once, after Ahsoka accompanied Master Ti to Shili for some Togruta hunting ritual, she came back and made Rex sit down and eat what she'd caught. Said she wanted to share; that it was special, that it meant something. 

Never in a million years would he have turned her down. It tasted a little like this. It burned his tongue and made his eyes water but he still thinks of it sometimes- not long ago he'd thought maybe he'd ask for her to make it for the men after they returned from Mandalore, that they'd like it, after all they'd painted their buckets to look like her. They trusted her. It would feel just like the old days. 

He gulps from his canteen and keeps going. It's so good. He's eaten mostly only ration bars these past weeks. There's no time to cook or eat a real meal in some cantina when your own brothers are hunting you- there's no time for anything anymore. His hand clenches around the plate like someone might take it from him.

His face feels hot, eyes burning. The first time they had a night off on Coruscant, he and the 501st had gone to some back-alley restaurant and spent hours there together, laughing over the meal that they themselves had to cook on the little stove over their table. It was good. It was so long ago. It feels like yesterday.

Numb to the world around him, he doesn't notice the concerned face Saw makes; only the hand that presses gently to his thigh when Rex realizes he's crying.

"It's Pikobi. What you're eating. It's my specialty." Rex stops mid-chew to follow the direction of Saw's pointing, over at the half-eaten animal turning on the spit. It's skinny and reptilian and by the look of it, shouldn't taste nearly as good as it does. Saw smiles calmly, distractingly, and though he can barely see it through the blur of tears in his eyes Rex just nods. 

"You made this?" He asks, finally reaching a point in the meal where he can bear to slow down. Rex wipes off his face and hands on his cloak and tries to subtly dab his eyes. It's a little pathetic to cry over a meal, but he couldn't help it.

"With a little help."

"It's really good," he manages. "It's- sorry. I haven't eaten in a- in a good long while. It's good."

"I understand. It's fine, Rex, there's plenty more where it came from."

It's all too much. He can't even eat without losing his grip- Rex's life is gone, and he's left wandering this world full of things that remind him of it. He was a captain not so long ago, then a commander- and now he's just Rex, a man so burdened by the weight of his world that he's constantly buckling beneath it. 

He doesn't know, some days, how he can still carry it, or why he even tries to go on. 

It's then that he realizes dimly that Saw's been talking the entire time. "-- not a hard recipe to make. It's harder to hunt than it is to cook; Pikobi are fast, evasive creatures."

It dawns on him that Saw is probably trying to soothe him.

When he'd last seen him, the man was a mess; Saw didn't eat or sleep following the death of his sister. They'd draped a flag over her casket and now he wears it as a cape, always standing upright and proud. 

It's incomprehensible to him that one might be able to move forward in such a way. Rex clutches his plate and thinks about a world where his pain isn't so raw.

"Maybe sometime.." Rex exhales shakily. "I could accompany you to hunt one. Sometime."

Saw's hand squeezes his thigh once more, just above the armor plate. "Sure. Could show you how to cook it, too."

The hand retreats. Rex looks out at the bustling camp and then at the man beside him once more, giving him a small smile- the only one he can muster. Perhaps he can bear to carry it all a little further. 

"I'd like that."

[literaphobe]

season four of she-ra rated by catradora content

the coronation: okay so... rightfully. there’s nothing i should be appraising here. adora and catra didn’t interact or bring each other up at all. but bro... catra’s new outfit... the best character of season four. i’m kidding but also she is so hot. catra seems to be dealing w the portal incident by framing it as a victory, since the rebellion was hurt by it. but also who cares. who fucking cares man. her arc this episode was about her deciding to make hordak her little bitch and design a new sexy outfit. that adora did NOT talk about nor seem visually affected by >:( yes, this entire season will be measured by how much i think it was a missed opportunity that adora did not get to thirst. jk but also am i? 500000000/10 for catra’s new look, 0/10 for official catradora stuff

the valley of the lost: god...... this episode. i know it’s like one of the few catradora moments we have this season already but it makes me LIVID that adora said that flirty ass line and catra never even got to hear it. anyway, let’s begin properly. double trouble seeks catra out and says they’re gonna be her new best friend. catra says “oh, yeah? i’m done with best friends”, making it official that she and adora broke up 😔 like friend broke up oh my god 😔 KFKSKDKD like we been knew but i think it is so dramatic and funny of catra to announce that she’s never having a best friend again because adora broke her heart 😔💔 i mean i know it’s also like sad but let’s keep it light ok uwu anyway. sigh. double trouble! auditions for catra! by pretending to be her in battle! which is great for them, but not for me and my hang ups about adora bringing back a flirty line catra said to her in season one and winking and then catra doesn’t hear or see ANY of it. sigh. let’s go through the scene. adora sees who she thinks is catra run in and say “hey! careful with the goods”, pouncing on adora and taking her down. adora tosses dt!catra into the walkway above and they get a cut on their face. not sure whether this is meant to signify adora pulling less of her punches around catra or double trouble just not being as agile as catra is in combat. it’s probably the latter because when you think about it, throwing catra away is much more of a defensive tactic than an offensive one. anyway! double trouble still does a more or less good job fighting adora as catra. huntara calls adora over and is like hi adora! could you stop fighting ur gf for one fucking second? we need you to do literally anything else. and adora (who has NO IDEA she’s not fighting her ACTUAL gf) is like :( wait no what really?? ok :( one sec tho lemme pull off this super cool sexy farewell thing before i stop fighting catra i’ve been practicing it for years u kno kinda been working up to doing this bit. and then she. grabs dt!catra after stopping them from running away, and grabs this trap thingy to trap them against the side of this wall. “i got something more important to do :) it was fun distracting you though ;)” and she actually WINKS and she looks SO PROUD of her damn self but it means pretty much NOTHING because that’s not ACTUALLY catra :( wtf :( the worst thing about this whole situation is that adora clearly wanted to do her whole super strong super powered thing and then go BACK to catra and like.... gloat or something.... flirt some more.... kiss her.... i don’t know. but dt!catra is gone because they’re good at getting out of tight spots, and adora is like “how did she get out of that? :( i wanted to see more of her tf....” anyway double trouble, scorpia, and catra are escaping in a skiff after this. catra thinks double trouble did marvelously. “i grew up with adora, and you fooled her” well catra. i’m very sorry. but if i were adora seeing you in that new look for the first time, i wouldn’t be checking to see if u were ooc. i would be.... hm idk.... flirting with you as hard as possible? like i know i complained that we never got a proper reaction from adora re catra’s new outfit, but i think we could interpret this scene as a lapse in adora’s morals <3 like she gave catra such a hard stare the last time they saw each other, and the next time they saw each other (after this) adora glared at her too, but somehow this time she’s all 👅👅👅👅👅it was fun distracting you ;) ;) ;) like ok. slow down there horn dog. “if you can do that, we can do anything. this is gonna be fun...” catra :( perhaps you would have more fun :( if you suggestively fought with adora :( yourself? :( 8/10

flutterina: catra’s having bad dreams :( her mistakes and past actions are haunting her and the guilt is messing her up so bad :( so what am i choosing to focus on? the fact that adora was in her dream :) dream!adora looks Angry and dream!catra is scared and backing away :( a quick callback to when adora gave catra an angry Look when she destroyed the portal, and catra looked scared for a second before her face hardened back to something equally pissed off looking. so this dream obviously tells us that the thought of adora genuinely just hating and being pissed off at catra... hurts and scares her. because we all know that she loves adora and just wants adora to love her back! but.... ya lmao. dream!adora asks “why did you do it?!” reminiscent of what she said last season, but angrier this time. and we all know that catra doesn’t really know why. sometimes things torture you so bad and you do stuff that you can’t come up with sound or logical reasons for. u would rather keep running or keep deflecting, and so catra deflects dream!adora’s questions by waking up. i wonder if catra dreams about adora more than what we’re shown in this scene. i also REALLY wanna know if adora dreams of catra. i want more :( why this season gotta be the fucking break up season bro :( like i KNOW they’re thinking of each other. gimme the content :( for now, let’s skip ahead to💔 their only real interaction this season💔 holy fuck. stay strong u guys. stay strong me. i think it’s very offensive of she-ra to not give me a catradora heavy season every season? like yeah this season is good but god at what cost? they should’ve known i was going to do an evaluation? :/ that i was gonna rate each ep out of ten according to how much catradora content there was? :/ the fuck bros. ,,,,anyway, let’s get to the actual scene. catra’s walking around w an ipad and scorpia is talking to her. catra looks like. v serious and :| and >:/ BUT when scorpia asks about she-ra catra becomes >:) and >:D “she-ra was in elberon, which means she’s nearby.” “do you think she’ll try some secret attack? :0” “;D oh i’m counting on it ;)” fucking god catra can you just flirt normally??? like be horny in a normal way??????? u can just ask adora out on a date. have u tried that? i know she blocked u for nearly destroying the world but adora’s a hoe ❤️ she would’ve said yes ❤️ u don’t need to kidnap a town as an excuse to see her ❤️ yes i know she did it to plant flutterina!DT into the rebellion as a spy but shhhhh ❤️ we finally get to the most GORGEOUS “hey adora”,,, ever because it’s the only hey adora of this season 💔 i looked back and we did not get a ‘hey adora’ last ep. honestly, adora should’ve figured it wasn’t catra JUST from the lack of greeting. catra is fucking POLITE ok :( anyway. it’s so homophobic that we only got ONE “hey adora” in THAT LOOK but..... it’s okay. because it’s such a good one. catra’s hand is propping her face up and she just looks so pretty.... the way she SAYS the hey adora too like bros... how we holding up? bad? she’s posing and lounging so prettily... “took you long enough to show up” HHHHH why does she sound like a gf who’s a little :/ that her gf showed up late for their date.... bro....... must she SMILE that prettily..... also adora’s reaction... she goes :0 and her EYES get this like ‘oh wow’ look for a Moment right before she remembers she’s supposed to be mad when she sees catra then she’s like >:( CATRA >:( and like. let’s dissect that look for a moment? it’s almost like AWE but why??? why would she be at all surprised to see catra??? catra is IN the horde like. she got happy for a moment until she remembered she’s meant to be mad. good bye <3 i will now be passing away <3 “seriously. i thought i’d have to kidnap another town to get your attention” TO GET. YOUR ATTENTION. HHHHH HELP THEY’RE GAY...... BRO WHY.............. THE GAYNESS UNMATCHED..... anyway catra continues like OH RIGHT u were at a PARTY feeling SPECIAL and adora.... oof oh fuck she COLD she was like skip the SPEECH i’m done playing your GAMES and she like reminds catra of the portal and they just... oof this really IS the breakup season it’s so brutal bros :( can’t they just kiss :( like nooooo don’t stare at each other angrily you’re so sexy aha OK BUT... at the end after catra runs away and adora’s getting hugged by flutterina and everyone’s cheering for her... she lets her ‘catra BAD’ and ‘yay haha rebellion for the win! :)’ facade drop for a moment... and she gets this really sad look on her face that makes u think.... and the next scene we see catra sitting on the ledge of where she and adora used to sit together? and she looks real upset too???? they hate being enemies. 9/10

pulse: in this ep adora fucking SHUSHED spinnerella and netossa while they were bickering and like... ok wow. rude :/ adora straight up was like ok HAHA WOW we GET IT ur HAPPY y’all have WIVES and iiiiiii don’t HAVE a GIRLFRIEND because my crush is EVIL :( on the other hand, we find out that catra is meeting up regularly with double trouble to get intel. it’s very funny because she’s like yeah yeah WHATEVER what can u tell me about SHE-RA >:( like girl? u are not subtle ❤️ catra literally met double trouble and said let’s be friends with benefits ❤️ the benefits? you spy on adora and tell me everything about what she does ❤️ was she pretty today ❤️ haha jk she’s pretty everyday ❤️ here’s some bitcoin for your troubles ❤️ AND THEN the next time double trouble facetimes catra they transform into bow and glimmer to roast them and catra is at most unamused and annoyed but BUT when double trouble pretends to be she-ra catra’s like HAHAHAHDJSJDJSJD OMG,,,, INSPIRED FAM,,,, SO FUNNY TOP PEAK COMEDY,,,, ABSOLUTE LEGEND,,,,,, SHOW ME SHE-RA AGAIN,,,,, u know that thing where you find people who you’re attracted to way funnier than they actually are? ya :-) apparently catra doesn’t even need the Actual she-ra/adora to lose her shit. she just needs to see a physical representation of her and it’s suddenly Peak Comedy. someone once pointed out that this moment was the last time catra was happy all season and... can we take a fucking second to cry about that. haha 💔 anyway double trouble is happy that they finally cracked the code to making catra go from ARGH >:( to HAHAHAHAHAH :D so they give her she-ra intel as a treat ❤️ “she-ra’s going back out to destroy the bot that hurt her friend” “ugh 🙄 typical heroic adora plan” shut up bitch u dream of her lips on yours!!!!!! 7/10

protocol: no rights for white boys ❤️ 0/10

princess scorpia: well, nothing! but since i’m scouring i might as well say the line where catra says “you don’t need a princess in your life telling you what to do!” to hordak she’s actually talking about her and adora haha i mean duh :-) anyway since i’m here can i talk about how hot catra is again this season. i’m madly in love did y’all see her from behind? even her back view is beautiful i am going to combust <3 2/10

mer-mysteries: what a great episode! 0/10

boys’ night out: catra gets banned from doing war crimes because hordak wants to do the war crimes all by himself and this is a real bummer because there’s an even SMALLER chance she’ll bump into adora now :( jk ik she was avoiding her this season because the guilt was eating her alive haha :-) also glimmer and adora fought and we all know that ‘but the rebellion’s in a worse place than ever since you showed up’ is like a very :( line but when u think about it it’s true because adora joining the rebellion pissed catra off so much she became an antagonistic force driving most of the conflict in the series up to this point in the story JFJDDJDJDJ like imagine if they brought catra up in this convo ‘i’m doing my BEST glimmer :(‘ ‘ok but what can we do about your terrible taste in evil women????? was ur catgirl gf ex really worth it????? did she hit that different???? did the catgirl ***** slap that hard????’ 1.5/10

hero: man mara is so hot! 0/10

fractures: scorpia said catra’s name in front of adora... ‘shadow weaver! and at bright moon! everything is making so much sense about why catra’s been acting the way she has’ and adora’s reaction is so interesting.... she goes from this ‘catra....’ look to this ‘catra >:(‘ look and like it’s interesting to see catra’s psyche explained to adora like this and it’s clearly something that makes adora feel bad but then she remembers the bad stuff catra did and forces herself to focus on that. 5/10 for that alone lmao

beast island: bow being very upset and annoyed and disappointed in glimmer is a fun little parallel to how adora has felt about catra’s descent into the darkness. you feel doubly upset and doubly betrayed when someone you’re in love with goes against what you stand for, and the goodness you know they’re capable of but aren’t showing. 1/10

destiny part 1: ‘i’ll be happy when the rebellion and she-ra are gone for good!!!’ are u sure about that catra :/ 1/10

destiny part 2: catra gets into a huge fight with some dude and right after she sort of collects herself after barely beating him she hears “hey, catra” and she completely freezes up. she’s been so proactive with avoiding adora all season... and the moment in 4x03 nearly doesn’t count because she was acting specifically to get double trouble snuck into the rebellion. aside from a necessary interaction in which she was far away and removed from adora anyway.... where she was far enough away to smile and laugh and manipulate the situation.... she hasn’t wanted to see adora at all, clearly. and having this happen now, right after one of her worst fights, right after she thought she was going to win... “no. you can’t do this. you can’t come in and take this from me now.” “woah, i knew this would get a rise out of you, but still, you really are obsessed, aren’t you, kitten?” and catra’s standing there like 👁👄👁 until double trouble reveals themself and says stuff that :( hurts :( i am not going to repeat until i get to anything catradora relevant because i don’t wanna be bummed out ok hoes 😔 anyway double trouble becomes adora again and is like “didn’t need you... left you” and puts catra’s hand on adora’s cheek...... and then shoves catra???? rude :( 7/10

[petersspidey]

Touch Me

A/N: honestly idk how people write smut all the time. I feel like it's alway just a repetition of my last smut piece. And I like get bored writing it. So much more fun participating than just writing. But here u go. Another Steve smut. LOL not surprising. That's all i write these days.

Warnings: Smutttttt

Steve Rogers x Reader 

Masterlist

You had been locked inside the Avengers tower for weeks now. Quarantine was killing you. You were bored and tired and so done with being stuck inside.

But you had a bigger problem. You were surrounded by hot, Avenger men, but you were getting no dick. You were unbelievably horny and at this point nothing was satisfying. You were literally just craving dick. And you had tried toys but it wasn’t the same as the feeling of being close with someone and getting pulled over the edge by their movements.

You shook your thoughts away, realizing you had been staring at Steve from across the room. Steve had noticed you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, realizing you had made yourself wet just from the thought of being with any of the avengers men, but more specifically him.

“Hey y/n, you ok?” Steve asked, coming to sit on the couch close to you. You back was against the arm rest, and you were sitting with your knees up, facing where Steve was sitting. He had one leg on the ground, with the other resting across that leg. His arm stretches across the back of the couch toward you. Close enough that he could touch your knees.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you lied

Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Whatever you say…”

You were silent for a second, and kept looking at Steve.

“What are you reading?” He asked, interrupting your drifting thoughts.

“Oh,” you look down and pick up your book off your lap, “It’s just one of those steamy romance novels, but I wasn’t really reading it,”

Steve reached over and grabbed it from your hands.

He opened it to a random page and began reading, “As Nathan continued to push his throbbing cock in and out of her, Melanie moaned loud enough that the neighbours could hear. Her soaking pussy…”

Steve paused, and you giggled.

“Yeah ok, very steamy,” he laughed, closed the book and handed it back to you.

His hand that was resting on the back of the couch fell forward. Steve fingertips hovered ever so slightly above the side of your knee. You could feel how close they were. Your inside began to turn. Butterflies flew through your stomach.

You laughed at yourself. It really had been a long time that anyone had touched you if Steve barely touching your knee was turning you on.

Although it was Steve, and just looking at him could turn you on.

“What can I say? We’ve been stuck inside for a couple months, I’m in dire need of some romance and this is as good as it can get right now,” you shrugged.

“Yeah I can understand that one,”

“What’s that supposed to mean Mr America? Do you also read pornographic novels in your spare time?” You joked

Steve blushed “no.. That’s not what-“

“Don’t worry Steve, I was joking,” you smiled.

You were silent again for a second. You looked Steve up and down. He looked relaxed. On his day’s off he usually wore jeans a tshirt, but after the first month he gave up on the jeans and began dressing in sweatpants. Completely understandable. You don’t think you’ve worn jeans since the first day nationwide quarantine was declared.

You looked back up to Steve’s face. He was looking at you.

“What did you mean when you said you understand?” You asked

Steve thought for a moment, “I just meant it’s nice to have someone to sleep beside or to kiss in the morning. Someone to love. Kinda hard to do that when you’re stuck inside and can’t go out to meet that someone,”

You smiled, “Yeah, that’s really true,”

“But I guess you meant someone to have sex with,” Steve smirked

You laughed lightly, “Yeah that is what I meant. But I do miss everything you’re talking about too. I forgot how lonely it was to sleep by myself, until I’ve been doing it the past three months,”

You sighed, and stood up. “I think I’m going to go back to my room and actually try and get some reading done,” you said.

Steve grabbed your wrist as you turned to leave. You looked back at him, “If it makes you feel any better Y/N, I miss sex too,” he smirked

You smiled at him, “I’ll see you around, Steve,”

You shook your head and laughed lightly to yourself as you headed toward your room. You turned back to look at Steve before getting on the elevator. He was still looking at you. He watched you step onto the elevator.

You were taken aback by Steve’s forwardness with you. You don’t think you’ve ever even heard him say sex. You thought back to your whole conversation with him. Was he flirting with you?

The elevator dinged on your floor and you stepped off.

No, you said to yourself. There was no way Steve was flirting with you. That’s just not Steve. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t just bring girls home to have sex. You didn’t even know what he meant by all that.

You sighed, and walked back to your room and spent the rest of the night dissecting your conversation with Steve.

The next few days were hard to say the least. And by hard, you mean a lady boner hard. It was like Steve was teasing you on purpose. It was like he knew certain things that turned you on and did them on purpose.

He’d walk into the kitchen where you’d be sitting with Natasha or Peter at the counter eating breakfast. He’d be sweaty from his workout, and would always say hi and then smirk at you. He’d chug a glass of water, run his fingers through his hair and look at you squirm in your seat as he walked out. One time on his way out of the room he even winked.  That morning you were luckily sitting with Peter and not Natasha, and he was oblivious to the wink.

Other times he would come into the room where you were reading and sit down beside you with a book of his own. He’d always ask if you minded if he sat with you. You of course would always say that you didn’t mind. Steve would smile, sit beside you and open his book. Even something that simple had you lose your mind. You wouldn’t be able to pay attention to your book, all you wanted to do was stare at him. Sometimes he would sit so close that your legs were touching. Other times he would rest his arm on the back of the couch and his fingertips would rest gently on your shoulder or neck.

Any chance he got when he stood in a room you were in, he would cross his arms, and his huge muscles would be flexed. That alone was enough to make you want to melt into the floor.

One time you were in the elevator to go to the garden on the roof, hoping to actually get some reading done up there where you could focus on anything but Steve. But of course as you got into the elevator, Steve came running in behind you. He hit the floor for his bedroom, and went to hit the floor for yours.

“Oh, actually I’m going to the roof,” you said, stopping him.

Steve nodded, and pressed the correct button for you.

You were standing across the elevator from him, your hands behind you holding yourself up on the railing.

Steve smiled at you, and crossed his arms. You looked down at his arm muscles, and just wanted to die. You closed your eyes for a moment, imagining his arms wrapped around you. You licked your lips.

“Y/N, you ok?” Steve asked.

“Uh, yeah, I’m great,” you said, opening your eyes to look across the elevator at him again.

You looked at the arrow, realizing it had only been a few seconds and you had barely ascended any floors. You leaned over and hit the button for the next floor.

“I uh, gotta go,” you said,

You could see Steve’s look of confusion on his face as you scurried off the elevator.

You were on the floor with all the labs. You had no reason to even be here. You walked over to the stairwell entrance, and waited there, hoping Steve would get off on his floor and you could go back and take it up to the roof.

Needless to say it had been a long week of literally getting wet every time you saw Steve. Sometimes, really wet.

You had no idea how to make it stop. You felt like no matter how many times you masturbated, it was never enough to get Steve out of your head. Regardless of the orgasms you gave yourself, you still found yourself craving Steve every time you saw him.

One day however, you nearly lost your mind. You were walking toward the gym, hoping to get a workout in. Despite being quarantined, you still needed to train in case the world needed the Avengers. When you walked into the gym, Steve was standing there. Shirtless, hitting the punching bag.

You could feel your chin falling to the floor. The longer you stared at him, the wetter your panties got.

Suddenly Steve stopped. Noticing your standing there.

“Hey Y/N,”

You were speechless, and simply just raised a hand to wave. You took a deep breath, and walked over to the mat where you had planned to do a few stretches before you started to workout.

You turned your back to Steve, hoping to ignore the fact that he was there and actually get through this workout.

Little did you know, Steve watched you. His eyes trained on your ass as you bent over to touch your toes, lunge to the side, and even during your squats.

You turned around, hoping to just catch a quick glance at Steve, but he was walking toward you.

“Hey, Y/N, mind if i join you for a few stretches?” He asked

You nodded. You stood side by side and glanced over at Steve watching him copy your stretches.

You sighed.

“Something wrong?” He asked

“Too many things,”

“You’ve been acting weird all week, what’s been bothering you?”

“Nothing Steve. This is more of talk to Natasha about my problems kind of thing,”

“Oh… alright,” he said. Staying silent and continuing to mimic your movements.

“Look, it’s just a girl thing. Don’t take offence. I’m not not talking to you about it because you’re Steve. It’s just cause you’re a guy and wouldn’t understand,”

“Try me,”

You chuckled to yourself. There was NO way you were going to talk to Steve about your problem.

“No way Steve,”

“C’mon. Maybe I’ll get it,”

“You definitely won’t,”

“Fine,” he said in defeat, “but you know you can always talk to me about anything,” he added.

“I know, Steve. Thanks,”

And with that, he left the gym and you continued your workout alone.

Despite you just wanting to jump Steve’s bones. It was more than that. You wanted to sleep beside him. You wanted to get that good morning kiss he talked about the week prior.

That night, you knocked on Steve’s door.

He opened it. Standing in front of you in only a T-shirt and his boxers.

“Y/n,”

You were taken aback by his appearance.

“Hey Steve, uh, this might be a weird question but …. can I sleep here tonight?”

Before he could say anything, you spoke again, “look it’s just that the other day when we were talking we spoke about how lonely it is to have a bed for yourself. And I feel the same and I just am craving the feeling of someone else beside me in my bed. I’m tired of falling asleep lonely and I completely understand if you want to say no and we can just forget about it but”

You stood silent for what felt like forever, but it was only seconds before Steve responded.

“Sure, Y/N. come in,”

Steve moves aside to let you in and closed his door behind you.

It had been awhile since you’d been inside Steve’s room. But it didn’t look any different. His desk was still covered in sketches, his bed with the same white sheets, and the same photos on the wall. Some of him and Bucky. One of him and Peggy. And another of all the Avengers after the battle of New York. There was even one of him and you, drinks in your hands with Steve's arm around you. You remembered that night. It was during one of Tony's many parties.

You sat on the edge of his bed.

“I was just reading before heading to sleep, but if you’re tired I can turn the lights out now.” He offered.

“No, I don’t mind. Keep reading. I’ll just lie down,”

Steve moves to his side of the bed, moving into a sitting position with his back resting against the headboard. You lied down on your side beside him and looked over at him.

It was hard to ignore the fact that you could see his bulge through his boxers.

You closed your eyes hoping to just fall asleep and stop thinking of the fact that you wanted Steve inside of you.

Maybe this was a bad idea. You'd been melting to the idea of him the past few weeks. And now you were in bed beside him. His dick only hiding through extremely thin fabric. You were only in a tank top and your sleep shorts. It was warm enough in the complex that you were comfortable wearing this, but Steve had his window open and a light breeze was blowing through his room.

You moved to shift yourself under the covers. Steve looked away from his book to watch you.

"You can move closer if you're cold, Y/N," Steve offered.

You knew you shouldn't but you gladly took him up on his offer.

You shuffled closer to Steve under the covers. You were still lying on your side facing him. Your arm was resting against Steve's side.

He glanced over at you before returning to his book.

You don't remember falling asleep. But it was hard to forget waking up.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, there were thin streams of sun coming through the half closed blinds. It was cold out today and a strong breeze blew through the room, causing you to shiver. You were facing away from Steve, but he was pressed close against you. You weren't sure how long you had been sleeping like this. Steve's arm was draped across your side. Your back was against his chest. You could feel his breath hot against the back of your neck. You sighed, taking in the moment. You knew you wouldn't get to feel this way forever.

You tried to push yourself back, to get closer to Steve but you weren't sure if that was possible. But you could feel Steve's morning wood pressing hard against your ass. You weren't sure if it was the feeling of Steve's dick or the cold morning air that was causing your nipples to harden, making them visible through your shirt.

You pushed your ass back against Steve. Enjoying the feeling. Steve moved behind you, his arm that was draped over you wrapped around you harder.

All you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him. Grab his dick in your hand and just make him come.

You could feel Steve stirring behind you.

"Morning, Y/N," he muttered, his raspy morning voice only turning you on more.

You already knew that you were wet, and that if it kept going on like this your wetness would seep through your sleep shorts.

Steve must have realized his hard on was pressed against you, and tried to move his pelvis away from your ass. You only took that as an opportunity to move your ass back closer to him. Almost as if you were grinding on him.

You could tell Steve was taken aback for a moment, before he leaned back into you, pressing himself back into you.

HIs grip around you tightened once more. One of his hands *accidentally* brushed past one of your nipples. You could feel his cock twitch.

The two of you were breathing extremely heavy. His cock only getting harder, and pressing onto you more. Steve rested his hand against the bare skin of your stomach where your shirt had come up. His hand slowly trailing higher on your body.

His hand hovered lightly just underneath your breast. You could feel his touch lingering. You sat there, eyes closed, your sleep shorts nearly soaked through with Steve's dick hard on your ass. You needed more.

"Steve," you breathed

"Mhmm," he muttered, lips gently hovering over your neck.

"Touch me,"

That's all Steve needed.

He shot his hand up to your breast and began rolling your nipple between his fingers. You felt a wave of pleasure shoot through you. You have been touch starved for too long and this was exactly what you needed.

Steve's lips were pressed against your neck, leaving sloppy kisses.

You moaned. You needed more than this. It felt amazing, but you needed more.

You rolled over onto your back. Steve's hand didn't leave your breast, still flicking the nipple. He immediately shifted himself, nearly hovering over top of you. His lips slammed against yours before you could even finish moving. You moved your hands to wrap around him, one floating through his hair, the other on his bare back.

You both moaned into each other's mouths. His hard dick now pressing against the front of your shorts as he held himself up above you.

He pulled away from you and grabbed the bottom of your shirt. You lifted yourself off the bed to make it easier. Steve threw your shirt across the room. He started moving down the bed, peppering sloppy kisses along your stomach, making his way to the waistband of his shorts. He pulled your shorts down and tossed them aside. He spread your legs apart revealing how wet you were. He slowly slid a finger between your folds, licking the wetness from his finger, keeping eye contact with you.

"So wet for me," he said.

He smirked and lied down on his stomach in front of you so your pussy was right in front of his face. He threw your legs over his shoulders and hovered his lips so close to your clit you could feel their presence.

He blew on your clit lightly, causing you to squirm.

"Steve, please," you begged.

Steve wasted no time. He dove in. He began making long strokes on your clit. The feeling was overwhelming. You couldn't remember the last time you had been eaten out. It had been too long. You were panting from the feeling of Steve's tongue moving all over your clit. Running it up and down. Moving in circles.

You wrapped your legs around Steve, pulling him closer while bucking your pussy into his face. You knew it wouldn't take long for just Steve's tongue to make you come.

You focused on the movements of his tongue. Your world was spinning. He started moving faster, and you could feel your orgasm building. You tugged on his hair, wanting him even closer. You were moaning his name as he pressed down harder on your clit, realizing you were close to orgasm.

You started coming, and Steve kept moving his tongue around. You clenched your thighs tight around his head, the feeling of your orgasm and Steve still licking you becoming overwhelming.

"Steve!" you cried.

When your orgasm finally died down, it didn't stop Steve from leaving one or two more licks between your folds.

Steve stood up, and removed his boxers, using them to wipe the come off of his face before throwing them aside with your clothing. You lied still on his bed, still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, Steve grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the end of the bed. He held your legs up and before you could blink, you could feel his huge cock pushing inside of you.

"Fuck," you moaned

Steve groaned as he pushed himself inside of you. You both stayed still for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of his dick. Then he started moving.

This was the feeling you were missing for weeks. The thing you had been craving from Steve every time you saw him.

He took his time pushing himself in and out of you. One of his hands trailed down, and his thumb rested on your clit, beginning to move circles.

The feelings were overwhelming. Steve's huge cock moving in and out of you, and the feeling of your clit being rubbed. You knew your walls were going to close around him soon.

Steve was teasing you, slowly sliding himself in halfway and pulling himself out again. You whined, wanting his dick deeper inside of you. Steve smirked, and thrust further inside of you, groaning at the same time.

You were so close to coming. All the feelings, not to mention Steve's moans were pushing you over the edge.

You moaned through your orgasm. Steve sped up his thrusts and circled your clit harder. You couldn't help but scream his name once more. Steve pulled out for only a second, letting you recover from your orgasm.

As he went to push his dick back inside of you. You stopped him.

"No way, soldier. Lie down." you ordered

"Yes, M'am," Steve said.

He moved and lied down on the bed beside you. Cock still rock hard.

You moved to straddle Steve. His dick right in front of you. You took it in your hand and moved your hand up and down. Steve closed his eyes in pleasure.

You slowly shifted, lifting yourself over his cock, and slowly sinking down on it. You felt full pushing it inside of you. Steve groaned as you sat down. You sat still for a moment, adjusting to his size. It was much harder to take him all in while you were riding him.

Steve placed his hands on your hips, while you rested one of your hands flat on his chest, placing the other one on your clit. You slowly started moving up and down, as much as you could, Steve's hands on your hips guiding you back into place. You left small circles on your clit.

Steve inside of you was amazing. You already wanted to come again. Steve was groaning and pushing himself into you. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick, moving between that and rocking on him, moving in circles. Steve's grip on your hips got tighter, his fingers digging into you, as he pushed his head back into the pillows.

You were both moaning so loud there was no doubt anyone down the hall would have heard. Steve opened his eyes, watching your move up and down on his dick, your breasts bouncing with you. He was so close and could tell you were too.

"Baby, please," he begged.

That was all you needed to come. Your orgasm waved over you, you continued to rub small circles and rock back and forth on Steve as you came, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

The feeling of your pussy clench around his dick drove Steve crazy.

He moaned loud, and started bucking into you. You could feel his come spilling into your pussy.

You stayed seated on Steve, catching your breath for a second. His grip loosened on your hips, and moved down to rest on your thighs. You slowly lifted yourself off of Steve's dick, and collapsed onto his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder and pushed your hair out of your face.

You both lied still, trying to catch your breath. Steve moved his hands to rake them up and down your bare back.

"Man, I really needed that," you breathed

Steve chuckled.

"I know. I did too,"

"Can I just say Steve Rogers, you are very talented,"

Steve laughed again. Shaking your entire body resting on his chest.

"Well, I'm glad I could assist you in these hard times. I really drove you crazy this week, didn't I?" he laughed

"That's an understatement!" you exclaimed.

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 17 - Headcanon

(This one is based off @artsyfeathersartsyblog’s headcanon about why Arthur lives with his uncle. The headcanon is here.)

The one thing he hated more than anything else was the constant fighting. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, or whether he was around or not, it never got any easier to hear.

And it never got any better.

Was it possible for a young boy to be content in avoiding his parents whenever they were around one another? He seemed to find more comfort in being alone, but even that made him aware of how lonely he was. What friends could he hang around instead when he didn’t have any? It hurt, just as much as everything else.

But there was one saving grace.

The small family made trips to Tempo, which gave young Arthur a familiar outlet. His Uncle Lance lived out there, running a mechanical shop. It was always the best thing to look forward to, and though the shorter man had a gruff exterior, he warmed up to his young nephew. Truthfully, Lance treated him like family was supposed to, even down to listening to him when his mind was muddled by problems.

His parents grated down on him, and his uncle was no stranger to the effect this was placing on him. It was a shame not even the older siblings talking with one another was enough to quell his worries. Still, it made the moments in Tempo worth looking forward to.

But why couldn’t they have happened more often?

Home life got worse, and finally his parents had reached a breaking point. Part of him was thankful they came to a decision on what to do about one another, but part of him was torn. Under all the pain, he did care about both of them. Maybe the same sentiment wasn’t shared with him, but what else was he to think at such a young age?

His family was being torn apart.

His saving grace was still part of his life, even as the divorce was underway. Both were hurt, one from being caught in the middle and the other from having to watch a family member break down. He’d done his best with distracting the kid, both of them spending a fair amount of time around the shop.

Arthur had taken an interest in his uncle’s work long before this point, and was something they always did together. His uncle would go out of his way to teach him mechanical techniques, and dissect cars to show not only how they worked, but how to repair them. It made him feel better, and this time before parting, Lance offered him a phone number.

If his parents, whichever one he might end up with, were too much to talk to, then he could always talk to his uncle.

And that boy made use of that number any chance he got, not only just for times when he was feeling down. His uncle always seemed proud of him, and it made him want to share his successes with the one person that actually appeared to care. Lance was always there when the blonde needed him, and in a way, had influenced Arthur’s own desires.

As he got older, his interest in mechanical engineering grew. In fact, it extended past what his uncle taught him, branching out into robotics. There was so much potential, though a special place would remain in his heart for all the lessons Lance gave him at work at his shop. He’d spend his free time drawing up blueprints, even if they weren’t very good.

Too bad the one he was staying with didn’t see the genius in it that his uncle did.

Enough was enough. He couldn’t keep going on like this. Arthur stared down at his own phone, old enough to own one rather than having to borrow one. It certainly made calling his uncle a little more awkward than it needed to be. He could hear the ringing, but it did nothing to settle the nervous feeling in his chest. His plans for tonight would be life changing. He could feel the fingers of his free hand gripping at the hem of his shirt.

An answer, “Hey kid. How are ya doin’?”

No turning back now.

“Uncle Lance…”

“Yeah?”

This was so hard. He swallowed, “I…” He stopped. Don’t stop.

“Take yer time.”

Ever patient uncle Lance. He took a deep breath, “I… I was wondering if I could come live with you…”

There was silence on the other end. There was that worry creeping into his mind. This was stupid. There was no way his uncle was going to be alright with this. What reason would he have to agree to taking his nephew in? His voice wavered, “U-Uncle Lance?”

“Yer still a little young lad.”

Of course. Here it came. It was a long shot.

“But I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

A spark of hope, “A deal?”

“Ya give it a couple more years, and when I’ve been able to make some arrangements, then if yer mind hasn’t changed, you can come live here.”

“Y-You mean it?”

“Have I ever lied to ya before kid?”

“No.”

“Then why would I now?”

Hope flooded his entire being. The family member that seemed more like a parent than his own parents was willing to work with him, willing to accommodate him. What could he ever do in return to make up for something like this. A huge smile came to his face, “I… I would love that Uncle Lance.”

And sure enough, a few years later, the blonde packed everything he deemed valuable, which must not have been much if it amounted to two full suitcases. He’d been waiting for this day. He stepped out of the house he called home for so long, getting on the bus, and riding it all the way to Tempo.

He never had a second thought about this decision. He was leaving, and would never look back. He sat at the stop, rear planted on the smaller suitcase. His finger moved over his phone, checking over a few things. His gaze didn’t move up until a gloved hand was outstretched towards him.

Lance was everything he remembered, right down to the smile that could be seen through his beard. A smile found its way until Arthur’s face. It was time to go home, to where he felt he truly belonged, and with someone that truly believed in him.

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Hey @commonxcrimminals​ remember that Melendaire Fix-It-Of-Sorts fic I’ve had on my computer since freaking MARCH?? Well...I finally finished it!  CAN YOU BELIEVE. Anyway, were it not for your oodles of encouragement or our constant why-did-Melendez-have-to-die wailing sessions on every social media platform out there, I probably never would’ve summoned the gall to finish or post the darn thing. So thank you!

This one is dedicated to you, my friend. Love you more than I can possibly convey! ❤️ ❤️

Summary: When it comes to moments of life or death, Neil and Claire learn sometimes one defibrillation of the heart can reset everything.

Also here: (A03)

Enjoy! xx

Defibrillation

The sirens start, red and blue lights cutting through the darkness with speed. Neil’s strapped to a gurney, conscious but barely, with tubes and leads sticking from him like he’s part machine while his eyes fixate on the gray-white swirl of the ceiling.

What’s happened? Where is he? Why the hell does he hurt so much? Right now the blunt ache over his left temple is a trifle compared to the scalpel-like shard that’s been stabbing through his abdomen every two to four seconds and has nausea roaring into the back of his throat with each bump, with each gloved touch that ghosts over his prone form in examination, his vision dotted and blurred and fading…

It’s fading quickly…

…yes…

…f-fading…

…so…q u i c k…ly…

Monitors beep in the background. Softly at first, then louder. Faster. Shorter. Quieter. Steadily the screens track his stats before diving into erratic nonsense that can’t be pieced together as his fists curl into the sheet beneath him, knuckles bumping against a metal railing.

Neil’s eyelids burn, they grow heavy. All he tastes is blood and bile. A mask hangs over his mouth so he can’t talk, can’t call out either, the oxygen cool as it filters through his nostrils, little hairs tickling. He winces once, takes another shallow breath in—and then nothing.

Blackness pops. Noiseless but everywhere. Like a falling curtain, it frays the edges of the world until he can no longer see them.

Coldness slams like a hammer over his chest, pouring, rippling, spreading out with tendrils to invade cell after cell until before he knows it he’s drifting away from time and thoughts and oxygen that won’t hold steady…He’s sinking down, down, down into a rigid stillness that refuses to lift.

But then—

A flurry of movement to his right. Behind his head. Next comes a lot of pronounced clunking, swearing, whispering; perhaps even some harried tearing or unzipping.

No, no, no. Stay with me, pleads a familiar voice from above him in echo. With his head spinning with delirium, however, he’s unable to place who is speaking.

Come on, Neil. Don’t do this, not now. Hold on for me.

He feels distant, detached, like he’s been sunk under water but never went swimming.

Hold on for me, the voice repeats again. Please.

The words are wet and desperate as they land on his chest with two hands that push, and push, his eyes slitting open just wide enough for Claire’s face to float into focus for a moment then out again like a dream, the heel of her palm pounding into him with the force of a tether to keep him there with her, alive, stable - one breath, one blink, one heartbeat at a time.

The fleeting sight of her brings him back. Hair. Scrubs. Hands. Eyes. She brings him back into the pain and into the light. Her relief, that smile—he needs it; it’s a leash yanking him off the ledge of surrender and telling him to fight for another chance to live. To speak. After all, he’s a surgeon, so doesn’t he already know time is a borrowed gift with no guarantees?

Stay with me, Claire says again. And this time, he clings. He clings to her as hard as he can even as the world goes black a second time, his heart still full of too many unsaid things.

She waits for the door to click shut behind her in the stairwell.

Alone on the landing, there are no more voices. No more computers or phones. There are no more charts to read, labs to run, procedures to schedule, or medications to administer.

Wheelchairs stop squeaking through the hallways. Their wheels are no longer sticking to speckled white tiles as they turn the corner and head toward recovery. The smell of brewing coffee in the lounge near OR Four becomes a stale memory because here, and only here, do the demands of the hospital dissolve long enough for Claire to collapse her head into her palms for a moment, and breathe. Just breathe.

She only takes a moment. A second to grapple with the enormity of all that is happening.

Eyes closed, thoughts scattered, her fingers coil around something metal in her pocket and idle.

Her thumbnail traces sleek edges, silver grooves. A chain droops over her knuckles and scratches. Soothes. Familiarity tingling with each pass.

It’s a cross she fists in the quiet gloom. A token. Some beat-up trinket of her mother’s she couldn’t part with after her death so she’s taken to carrying it with her like a talisman even though she hasn’t believed in anything, or in anyone, for a long time. Not for years and years. Not until him, that is.

Neil.

He’ll be fine, Claire assures herself with a nod and a sniff. He’ll be okay.

The scan results sit in a folder next to her feet, still in need of a consult, still in want of a surgical scheme. The words “stable but critical” float in her periphery then flicker out again like a nightmare that won’t fade.

He needs to be okay, she thinks. Cold bites into her palm as she squeezes then releases, squeezes then releases, her pinky tracing the divots the pendant leaves behind on her skin.

He has to be.

Slowly, organically, Neil has chipped away at her walls to become a fixture in her life and she likes him there. Needs him there. She realizes she’ll do anything to keep him around, to keep him close to her for as long as she can.

So believer or not, Claire bows her head. She closes her eyes tighter and lets faith bleed from her heart straight into her hands.

Clutching her mother’s cross to her breast, begging for the strength and the skill to save him so they can have more time to bowl badly or laugh the night away over beers, so she can have the chance to say the words she already feels, she utters an urgent plea into the space around the stairs.

Claire wishes so hard for him to live that the words flutter as they take wing. They transform into symbols of her hope and despair:

A fossil in the air.

A sob with feathers.

A scream leeching from her compressed lips like a prayer.

.

.

.

Neil wakes with his head bandaged, his abdomen dissected with stitches, and a tuft of curly softness blanketed over his arm.

Squinting against the harsh hospital light, he sits up. Allows himself to adjust. To take in his surroundings.

Currently he lies flat in bed. A central line coils up his arm. His head pounds, and his mouth is dry. Wrapped in scratchy sheets, in sticky gauze and bandages, he notices the curtains are pulled shut for privacy and that there’s a woman fast asleep in the space beside him.

The first thing he does is smile. The second thing he does is tremble, relief as well as gratitude pricking the corners of his eyes.

The sight of Claire snoring and pillowed against his side overwhelms him so much that he shifts to brush his hand over the crown of her head without thinking. His touch, both featherlight and timid because he’s worried she’s a mirage on the verge of disappearing, petrified that one wrong move will shatter the reality of this moment like glass, Neil cups her cheek in his palm and he marvels—he savors.

He loses himself in the pure simplicity of touch. The chaste pleasure of it. Tracing the curves of her face with his thumb until she wakes.

“Hey there, sleepy head. Nice to see you again,” he whispers as her eyelids flicker open.

“Hey, you. Welcome back,” she stirs groggily and yawns. “Can I get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Meds? Here, let me—”

Claire makes to move, to fuss over him, but she stops when Neil shakes his head, holding her in place with a look, with a languid stroke of his fingers along her jawline. Relenting, she softens enough to desist fidgeting. Then leans into his palm to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” she balks, sitting up. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. Though, I do have the sneaking suspicion I was autopsied in my sleep for spare parts,” he jokes, wincing, “but otherwise I’m not bad. Fuzzy. Sore mostly. And you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. You know…considering.” Her shoulders heavy, Claire shrugs as she averts her gaze to check his fluids and vitals on the monitor, exhaling like she’s been holding in a breath for years. “Anyway, I’m much better now that you’re out of surgery.”

“—Not to mention conscious.”

“Right.”

“And talking again,” Neil adds glibly.

“Yeah,” she laughs but it falls flat. “That, too.”

“How long have I been out, by the way?” It’s a pointed question. Uncomfortable. Painful for them both to address because of all the might have been’s and almost was’s it carries with it, but he needs to know. He has to be in possession of all the facts.

Turning toward the window, Claire adjusts the blinds and swipes at her face, hiccupping back some stray emotion she doesn’t want him to see. “It’s been a while," she explains. Doesn't elaborate.

“Oh.”

“Yeah," she says, her voice small. “Things were touch and go for a few days.”

“I see.” A beat of strained silence. Then another. And another. He’s starting to notice the weariness she wears about her person now: the paleness, her rimmed complexion, the wrinkles in her clothes. He even recognizes the remnants of a few to-go lattes in the trash bin. It makes him wonder how many hours she’s spent camped out in this room while he recovered—weighing the odds. Pouring over charts. Pacing the floor while she waited for signs of life that weren’t guaranteed, or worse, might not have been coming at all.

“Hey, Claire?” he breaks in softly.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Startled and sobering, she turns. Sits back down on the edge of the bed. “For what?” she asks.

“Nearly dying to start,” Neil says with a sigh. “For the cowardice I’ve been hiding behind. For not knowing one-sided conversations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, or that living inside your own head lands you nowhere except in hell.

“I’ve been stupid and careless… wasted so much time. I’m a fool for not having told you I’m in love with you sooner, for one,” he continues huskily, his voice breaking around emotion and a smile when she gapes back at him in disbelief. “But I am. In love with you, that is. Have been for a while.”

Claire’s eyes are red and glassy now. Her head has fallen during his speech to make a pillow of his chest, a place from where she blinks even and level back at him. Studying him as if he were a scientific specimen.

Still, there’s a warmth about her that puts him at ease. Her attentiveness is a balm that makes him stronger and bolder even though he has no reason to be.

Shrugging, Neil offers a slight upward quirk of his mouth before adding, “I could have lost you. Best to just—lay it all out there at this point, don’t you think?”

The sentimentality behind his choice of words is not lost upon him but he finds there’s no point in discretion now. There is nothing dumber to him than chasing back courage with fear when he knows how he’s ended up here, and why. There has to be a reason he’s come back to this world. To this hospital. To this moment. And to her.

There has to be.

He believes there’s a future out there where they can hold happiness in both hands, he feels it like a scalpel pressed against an artery. All they have to do is be brave enough to make a grab for it. Mark the incision. Cut the damn thing wide open and let possibility bleed where it bleeds.

“If you don’t realize I love you, too,” Claire sniffs at long last, trying to sound droll and unaffected, though not quite managing it with tears spilling down her cheeks, “then you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot, huh?”

“The biggest.”

“Right.” He considers this seriously. “Got it. Now, can you rate that on a scale of 1 to 10 for me, please?”

Snorting, she fires back without missing a beat, “Sure. Try infinity.”

Neil laughs at that. Then, with undisguised tenderness, he frames Claire’s head in his hands and pulls her toward him by the nape until she’s tangled in sheets and IV wires with him. To hell with the pain.

“Well then. Let’s see if I can do something to lower that number, Dr. Browne,” he says before capturing her mouth in an overdue kiss to cinch things between them with chemistry. With feeling. Jumpstarting their hearts like a defibrillator that will reset everything.

That one kiss, as it turns out, marks the first step towards being able to forge a future together. A start. To them, it comes to represent just that: a new beginning.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Scholars and Slackers

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Namjoon / Reader

Word Count: 1,802

AU: Podcast

Dialogue Prompt: "I’ll be honest, I’m not fan of how tall he is. He could be like inch shorter, really. "

↳ part of my AU drabble game

“You know what’s the worst part about this podcast?” 

Leaning into his microphone, Namjoon adjusts his headset.

“No,” you say, propping both feet on his desk. Namjoon glares because he hates when you do that, but you don’t put them down. As you both know, his bark is worse than his bite. “Tell me, RM. What is the worst part about having this podcast?”

“The money. You know what they say. Mo money, mo problems.”

“Oh, right.” Seriously, you nod. “Sponsors are killing themselves to be heard on our campus-only podcast. Which – by the way.” You pause. “Drink Red Bull. This message is brought to you by… Red Bull.”

Namjoon snorts. “Yeah, you’re right. The problem is definitely not the money. In case any of you needed reminding, we’re just two broke college kids like yourself. Donate today!”

“If you’re waiting for a noble argument, we have none,” you add. “Keep us fed – or more accurately, help us get drunk at Klein’s on Friday nights. That’s where your donations are going. To alcohol.”

“We’re college kids first, humans second.”

“Anyways.” Leaning back, you wriggle your toes on Namjoon’s desk. “If money isn’t the problem, what is?”

“It’s your fucking feet on my desk.” Namjoon groans, his expression souring. “I know this is a podcast, so our listeners can’t see what Viola is doing – but she’s currently seated at my beautiful, hand-crafted desk with her shoes on top of my carefully taken notes.”

Viola is your podcast name and RM is Namjoon’s.

Viola, after the Shakespearian character of said nomenclature, your favorite of all he has written. The moniker seemed appropriate when you two began this podcast, since you met while watching the campus production of Othello. (It was terrible. You gave it two out of five damned handkerchiefs. Namjoon gave it one.)

Unimpressed, you glance at his desk. “He’s lying,” you say. “My feet are currently on top of a crumpled bag of those gross flavored Lay’s and what seems to be a diary. Ooo!” you gasp. “Anyone wanna hear RM’s deepest thoughts?”

The question is rhetorical since you aren’t live, but Namjoon snatches his notebook away like you are. 

“No,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “My deepest thoughts aren’t that exciting. Not that deep, either. One time I thought about the Mariana trench. That was pretty deep.”

“Friday, October 17th.”  You mock-read aloud, in a dramatic tone. “Today I realized we’re all just wisps of time in the universe. All who came before us, all who come after and all who fail to leave their mark upon society – what was the point? Are those who altered history any happier in the beyond?”

“I’ll have you know,” Namjoon interrupts. “I’m currently seated on my bed holding my journal. Viola is reading from nothing.”

“Okay, true enough,” you say with a laugh. “That’s not what RM’s journal says. What it actually says is Monday morning, 7:00 AM. Jacked off in the shower. Monday afternoon, 4:17 PM. Jacked off in my bed. Monday night, 11:49 PM –”

With a loud thwacking sound, Namjoon hits you with his journal. 

“They get the point, Viola!” he says, making you snort with laughter.

The sight of his eyes crinkled, face squished makes your heart do a backflip. Fuck, are you in love with him. You have been ever since the week of your first, official podcast. 

It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment. Maybe the first time Namjoon ignored your rambling bullshit and pointed out exactly what you were thinking. Maybe when you ended the podcast and realized you’d talked for over an hour about nothing. Or maybe later than that, with your feet propped on his desk and his smile giving you heartburn.

Whatever the moment was, the result is a giant crush on your best friend. One you can do nothing about, since your podcast (Scholars and Slackers – two guesses as to which one you are) is a massive success on your campus. You didn’t expect it to be. What began as a mostly reviews hour – campus productions, local restaurants and the like – soon developed into something you never imagined. Namely, your friendship.

Viola and RM are known on campus, even if Y/N and Namjoon are not. Their friend chemistry is infamous and the spine of the podcast. It’d be suicidal to risk a relationship because, while Namjoon is correct and neither one of you is rolling in cash, the podcast does generate a substantial amount of income towards student loans. Things would be hard if the podcast suddenly came to an end.

Shifting forward, you crack open your laptop. “Let’s see,” you say, scrolling through last week’s comments. “I’m reading the comments from last episode and damn, some of y’all are thirsty.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Are they asking you to take your top off again?”

“No, but again.” You blink, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You can’t even see me!” you say, as Namjoon starts to crack up. “Do you really want to subject RM to torture that badly?”

Abruptly, Namjoon’s laughter stops. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says into the mic. “I think we should ask RM what he thinks before dismissing the topic so quickly.”

“Pass,” you say, waving his suggestion aside. “Anyways, here’s a comment asking how tall RM is.” Pausing, you frame Namjoon with your hands. “I mean, he’s tall. I couldn’t fit him in a bread box, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be honest, though, I’m not a fan of how tall he is.”

Namjoon sits up straighter. “No?”

“Nah. He could be like, an inch shorter, really.”

“And why is that?”

“The nook.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“You know.” You wave a hand. “The nook! The spot beneath a person’s arm where the other person fits. It’d be ideal if you were just a little shorter, RM, since right now your nook is just too tall. It’s hard to snuggle.”

Namjoon stares at you, mouth agape. “I – what? When have we snuggled?”

“We haven’t. I’m just guessing based off height ratios.”

“I...” Namjoon makes a strange, choked sound. “This is ridiculous. Come here. I’m going to disprove your dumb nook theory.”

“Come there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?

“I’m going to snuggle you, you ass.”

“RM. You are not snuggling me during our very serious podcast, just to prove a point.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Viola, shut up and let me put you under my arm!”

“You sound like you’re going to give me a noogie,” you yelp, frantically moving away. “Hard pass.”

Rolling his eyes, Namjoon flops back on the bed. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, scrolling through some more comments. “Hey, look. I found another request for your top to be removed!”

“RM. That one is from your username.”

“It is not!”

The rest of the hour passes this way. You manage to get to the point eventually, reviewing a new café off campus which you felt had great atmosphere, adequate coffee. Namjoon refuted that atmosphere shouldn’t even be a requisite in food ranking and you spiraled from there.

Once finished, you remove your headset and sigh. “Another excellent podcast,” you say, sticking your hand out in his direction.

Namjoon stares at the extended appendage. “Are we concluding a business interview?”

“No, silly. I don’t want you to shake my hand, I want you to kiss it.”

Namjoon snorts, batting your arm away. As he stands and yawns, he stretches both arms overhead. The motion exposes a tanned strip of skin and, cheeks heating, you quickly look away. Rather than stare at your gigantic crush/best friend, you scroll through more comments. The oddest pattern has emerged as of late, even though you and Namjoon have yet to discuss it.

Most of the comments are related to content. People point out things they found funny, relatable or disagree with. Occasionally, people troll for someone to remove their shirt or do push-ups on air. Then, there’s the recent wave which seem to be multiplying by the week.

Jenny918: When will Viola and RM just kiss already??

hOOKEDonPhoenix: y’all if they aren’t dating within the year, I’ll eat my own hand

irredeemableDreamer: the tension is so thick in that room u need a HACKSAW to get through it

Jaw clenched, you read them all. 

You can only assume Namjoon’s seen them, but he’s never mentioned their presence. He’s never said anything about them at all and so, neither have you. It does make you wonder though, if your listeners are able to hear something you don’t. They all seem to theorize a tension which doesn’t exist.

Standing up from your chair, you push this from mind. Perhaps they just don’t have opposite sex friends of their own.

Slinging your bag over one shoulder, you shut your laptop and slip this inside. “Alright,” you say, glancing at Namjoon. “I have to go finish an essay. Lemme know if you need help editing.”

He nods, one arm behind his head. Namjoon’s glasses are on, squinting at the bright computer screen. 

“Sounds good.”

You wave, halfway into the hall when he speaks up behind you.

“Y/N?”

Paused on the threshold, you turn back. “Yeah?”

Namjoon’s expression is uncertain. Unusual, for him. Typically, you’re the mess and he’s the pulled-together one. Right now though, Namjoon seems to be dissecting a complicated math problem in his head.

“Would you want to…” Trailing off, he hesitates.

Although you wait for his sentence to finish, Namjoon seems to check himself. He bites down on his cheek, stifling the words.

After another long moment, you arch a brow. “Would I want to what?”

He inhales and glances away. “Uh, would you want to listen to the podcast before I post?”

Oddly disappointed by this, you nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just email me when you’re done.”

Offering a half-hearted wave, you leave. It could be your imagination but as the door shuts behind you, you swear that you hear Namjoon groan. The sound echoes in your mind down the hall, since you feel exactly the same.

The only difference is he’s groaning because he needs to edit an hour-long podcast and you’re groaning because you need to get your feelings for your best friend under control. If random listeners can hear the obviousness of your crush, you’re more transparent than you thought. It’s only a matter of time before Namjoon confronts you and when he does, you don’t know what you’ll say.

Thinking this, your lip quirks. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you log in with a URL Namjoon knows nothing about.

QueenMab01: RM, take your shirt off!!!!

Grinning widely, you return your phone to your pocket.

↳ part of my AU drabble game

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.