#I only slept four hours I feel terrible

[highconflictbirthmother]

Oh my god I need to go home

[moon-ttokki-x]

safe - skz x 9th member!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: skz helps you out when you're struggling with burnout and bad habits.

genre: fluff, idol! au, very angsty, descriptions of eating disorders, destructive habits, mentions of blood, fainting, throwing up (nothing graphic), reader is struggling with lots of thoughts, fluffy ending. read at your own risk.

a/n: i felt like it was time to write something that hits a little closer to home... hopefully it helps some of you out. my dms are always open to talk if you need it, and if you ever feel like reader does, please know that things do get better <3 divider by @iluvrei

The lights are too bright.

You blink harshly, trying to clear your vision of tears. Glancing across, you check to see if the boys have noticed anything. They haven't, too focused on the video of the choreography. They're all dripping with sweat, hair mussed, brows furrowed in concentration, and so are you, but you just can't focus right.

Not even if you tried. Because you can't do anything right.

Minho hums and notes down a couple things before signalling to start the choreography again. You move into your position and place a hand on Jisung's shoulder as you all fan out. The music blasts and leaves high-pitched ringing noises in your ears as you dance.

A hollow pang thuds dully in your stomach but you ignore it, instead focusing on copying Hyunjin's moves and moving into the next part of the song. By this point, you've forgotten the choreography and you want nothing more than to just sit down.

Focus, Y/n. Ignore it.

But you can't, too focused on just staying upright and keeping up with the rest of the boys. Even Felix, who tends to get tired the easiest, is dancing at full power, his eyes fixed on the mirror, adjusting and executing with perfect precision. The sight of it makes you feel even more run down and your temples throb when you stand back up into position for the main chorus.

Your energy finally runs out halfway through the choreo and you simply drop to your knees, hitting them hard on the polished floor. A chorus of groans sound out as Jeongin jogs to the speaker to stop the music.

"Y/n," Hyunjin groans, hands on his knees. Sweat drips from his hair. "We were almost finished, now we have to start again-"

He's cut off as a panting Chan waves his hand dismissively. "Take a break, guys. You okay, Y/nnie?"

You nod tiredly and look down at the floor, trying hard not to cry. That awful sour feeling takes a firm hold on your jaw and you gulp, like there's something stuck in your throat. The rest of the boys pay you no mind, chattering and bickering as they take swigs from water bottles and flick sweat from their hair.

Concert practice has been more than tiring, to say the least. Despite the tiredness and fatigue hanging in the air, the boys seem reasonably cheerful; pushing through with smiles on their faces. But being the youngest member of Stray Kids, there's only so much you can take on before it gets too much. You don't remember the last time you slept for more than four hours or ate a proper meal.

So while the others begin to move back into position, you stay on your hands and knees on the floor, gasping for air and feeling that terrible hollow pang gnaw at the lining of your stomach. A headache settles firmly between your eyes and your vision blurs, and it takes all your strength to even breathe.

Don't cry, you tell yourself harshly.

By now, Chan is kneeling beside you, a hand on your back. He knows how hard you've been working, especially since you just joined the production side of things, and he whispers a few reassuring phrases before standing up and offering you a hand.

Your eyes follow him as he rises from the floor, and a sudden burst of irritation shoots through you like lightning. Swatting his hand away and then immediately feeling terrible and selfish for it, you stand and brush yourself off, walking away without a word.

Chan stares after you just as Felix walks up.

"Is she okay?" The younger boy whispers.

Chan shrugs, brows furrowing in concern. "I don't know, Lix. I think she's just stressed with all the concert preparation."

"I mean," Felix begins as the music starts to play again, "She is the youngest of us. Maybe it's getting too much for her, hyung."

Maybe, Chan thinks as he moves into his position, watching as you do the same.

.

The rest of the day is uneventful; you spend most of it running between photoshoots, vocal lessons, rehearsals, and dress fittings for the upcoming concerts. It's all a blur, and by the time you open the door to the Minsung dorm, you're exhausted.

Minho and Jisung are already back from practice, since you'd opted to stay longer to perfect the choreo. Your body had been against it but you pushed through anyway, and you're beginning to slightly regret it as you almost stumble while shutting the door behind yourself.

Minho is in the kitchen, chopping something up; Jisung is lounging on the couch, watching something on his phone. The air smells rich and meaty, and normally you'd sneak into the kitchen for a taste of whatever Minho is preparing, but the singular thought of it makes you feel tense and nauseous.

You opt to grab only a new bottle of water before heading to your room. Minho looks up in surprise; he had been preparing to fight off a nosy, hungry Y/n, but you walk straight past him without even a hello. You do the same to Jisung and shut your bedroom door quietly, sinking down against it without a word.

You feel terrible about ignoring them; after all, they're your friends, but you just don't have it in you today to talk. Or dance or sing, or do anything at all. Everything feels dull and grey save for the hot tears that begin to soak the damp, musky fabric of your shirt.

Deciding to shower, you pick yourself up from the floor after a while and move sluggishly to the bathroom. You scrub until your skin is red and tingling and pull harshly at your hair while brushing it out before slipping on the first clothes you see in the drawer; a hoodie and sweats, all black.

Collapsing onto your bed, you open your phone and immediately regret it; the blue glare makes your head throb so harshly that you have to fight to urge to lean over the bed and throw up. You cover your mouth just in case, though there isn't even anything in your stomach to warrant the action anyway. You take a weak swing of water as a remedy and collapse back into the pillows, feeling exhausted but not tired enough to sleep.

Your stomach rumbles and you think briefly about sneaking into the kitchen after Minho and Jisung have gone to sleep, but you hold yourself back and roll over, gritting your teeth. Someone knocks on the door.

"Y/nnie!" Jisung calls from the other side of the door. "Come and eat something."

You ignore him, hoping that he'll think you've fallen asleep. You check the time; it's definitely late enough for that to be true. You wait with bated breath until you hear footsteps walking away.

You stomach growls more insistently and you press a disapproving hand over it, quieting the pangs as you turn over to try and sleep.

You can go one more day.

.

The next morning, you wake up early and decide to head to practice before Minho and Jisung can keep you back and make you eat something. You know for sure they've noticed the change in your eating habits, so you take a plate and break up a piece of toast, sprinkling crumbs so it looks like you've eaten. You throw the bread into the bin and leave your plate on the table before leaving.

Opening the door to the dance studio, you notice Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin all up early too, rehearsing the choreo, messing about, or talking. Or, in Hyunjin's case, all three. You duck to the side and head to the opposite side of the room, as far away from Chan as possible.

Him being here isn't good; you know for sure, after how exhausted you were yesterday, he'll try and check in with you. And it wouldn't be hard for him to decipher what's been happening; the pale pallor of your face, the bones of your wrists more prominent than before, and of course the constant sluggishness, fatigue, and dizziness that you've forced yourself to endure for the past few days.

You busy yourself with unnecessarily reorganizing the items in your bag, trying to ignore how bright the lights are. It feels like a spotlight.

"Hi, Y/n."

You look up to see Jeongin standing next to you, smiling in a white shirt and basketball shorts. His hair is ruffled, and somewhere in the cold, dead depths of your hardly-beating heart, you realise it's because the boys have been messing it up with their constant affection of the maknae. The thought makes you feel nothing. You are numb.

You don't reply, instead giving him a curt nod and picking up your waterbottle. You walk and place it on the cabinets against the back wall just as the others filter into the room. Jeongin shrugs and decides to leave you alone, apparently unbothered by your lack of response. Maybe he thought you were just tired.

Good, you think grimly. I don't want him to notice, nor do I care if he does. Just leave me alone.

Your eyes flicker to Jisung and Minho as they move to put their belongings down. Jisung immediately goes off to mess with Felix, who is still sleepily waddling across the floorboards to Changbin. You look away, but not before your eyes catch Minho's. He locks his gaze with you and raises a pointed eyebrow, silently questioning.

You look away quickly, gritting your teeth so hard you swear you can taste blood. Your heart jerks and starts, sending a racing thud reverberating through the hollow shell of your body.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

You see him begin to move towards you in your peripheral and you exhale when Chan claps his hands, moving to start the practice. Despite how much your head hurts, and the fact that you can hardly see let alone dance, you're grateful for the interruption, and dedicate your entire focus to the choreography.

Minho eyes you during a slower part of the routine but you don't look at him. Or anyone. The most you do is glance at Seungmin to check if he's placed where he needs to be before you move past him to the middle. Your vision deteriorates and drowns into dizzy black spots with every movement, but you push on.

Your head pulses dully with an aching pain and there's simply no energy left in your body. You grit your teeth and keep going, trying to will strength from within.

I can last til the end of the choreo. Just a little longer-

You exhale sharply and suddenly then, as if you've been punched hard in the gut. Your vision clouds over completely and you briefly panic as you can't see anything, but you find your limbs still moving. The last thing you know before you pass out is the feeling of the cold, polished floor against your cheek, a dull thud against your head, and a panicked yell from one of the members.

You close your eyes.

.

"Y/n. Y/nnie, wake up..."

"Is she okay?"

"Did anyone see what happened?"

"Y/n!"

Groggily, you open your eyes, and immediately hiss from the glare of the bright white lights above you. You're lying on the floor, where you dizzily remember yourself falling. You try and weakly lift a hand to cover your eyes, until Chan's head and broad shoulders moves into view above you, blocking it completely.

You exhale a small sigh of relief, even though the swimming black dots in your vision are making it hard for you to see anything at all. Your head throbs even worse than before; you must have hit it before you fell and passed out.

Even through all of that, you can see the look on Chan's face; half concern, the other half an equal mix of affection and sternness. You can't do anything but let out a weak groan as someone kneels down next to you, pressing something cold to the back of your neck.

"Take it easy," you hear Changbin saying from above you. You feel a pair of strong arms lift you to a sitting position and the movement makes a swelling pang of dizziness shoot through your skull like hot lightning. You feel sick and feverish.

"Y/n," you hear Chan saying through the haze. "What happened?"

You can't hold back the tears from spilling down your cheeks, however dehydrated you are. They just keep coming and someone else wipes them away with a gentle brush of fingers.

This is your fault. You can't even keep up with them and now you're wasting their time by making them take care of you. Way to go, Y/n. Absolutely pathetic.

That same rush of irritation shoots through you again and you push Changbin's hands away from your shoulders. "Leave me alone."

He looks surprised but backs off anyway. Your vision clears momentarily and it's then that you notice all of the boys are standing around you, most of them in various stages of concern and confusion. You notice Felix tightly clutching Hyunjin's hand in worry, Jisung biting at his lip. Jeongin looks upset too, and even Seungmin has the decency to look mildly put out.

"Why aren't any of you dancing?" You say, confused.

"Because," Hyunjin puffs out dramatically, "One of our members decided to die in the middle of the choreography."

Ignoring the younger's comment, Chan places a gentle hand on your thigh. "Y/nnie, please talk to us. We're all worried. What happened?"

You scoff weakly and push Chan's hand away too, even though his warm, solid touch is comforting. He pulls back, looking mildly hurt, and you instantly kick yourself for it. It's Chan. Why did you have to go and do that?

"Nothing," you say. "I'm fine."

He lets out an exasperated groan and there are a few protests from the rest of the group. "Y/n, you literally collapsed on us. And you don't look well at all. Have you been sleeping lately?"

"Yes." Lie.

"Have you been pushing yourself too hard?"

"No." Lie.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"This morning." Also a lie.

"We're not dumb, Y/n," Minho interrupts from where he's crouching near you. "I mean, we are sometimes, but we're not clueless, especially when it comes to you. Please let us in."

I can't.

"Okay," you whisper weakly, because you don't have the energy to argue. You feel so incredibly embarrassed and humiliated.

Chan sighs and hands you a bottle of water. You take a swig before putting it down.

"Practice is off, everyone," he says. "Let's regroup tomorrow. Good work."

"What are you doing?" You say on an exhale.

"Taking you home," he says firmly. "There's no way you're going to keep practicing after this. You need to rest and eat well for a while before you can join back in."

Your heart thuds hollowly in your chest. "But-"

"No buts. Please, Y/n. It's okay if you're not doing well, and we don't have to talk about it if you aren't ready, but we're not going to stand by and let you suffer like this, yeah?"

"Plus," Felix adds softly as he sits down next to you, "It's no fun when you're not around, so hurry and get better so you can join in again."

You look to Chan, defeated tears welling up in your eyes. You spot the slightest waver in his expression, but it remains firm and he helps you stand shakily to your feet without a word.

Minho walks over just as Jisung folds you into his arms, kissing the crown of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whimper to no one in particular.

"Shh, it's okay," Minho says, "Let's just get you back home and then you can rest, okay?"

You nod and let them lead you out the door.

.

The tangy fruitiness of the juice sends little bursts of flavour down your throat, and you sip a little more before placing the glass on your bedside table. You're looking out the window, though the curtains are drawn, and your hair is a mess, having slept ruffled against the pillow for around three hours now. The sun is beginning to set.

Jisung comes into the room, followed by Chan. You look towards them and sit a little higher up on the pillows as Jisung smooths a hand over your forehead.

"How are you feeling, Y/n?" Chan asks carefully as he sits on the bed.

"Better," you say quietly, even though certain thoughts still linger in the back of your mind.

"It's good that you slept a while," he continues. "Looked like you needed it."

"Yeah."

The room is silent for a while, and Jisung lies down next to you, his face pressed into your thigh. He lets out a muffled happy sound just as Minho comes into your room, holding a tray of soup.

He sets it down on the bedside table along with a banana, a glass of water, and a small packet of your favourite sweets before shamelessly flopping down onto the bed, making himself comfortable. Chan sighs before his hand reaches out to cover yours, which is picking at the blanket.

"Y/n," he says softly. "It's okay if you're struggling."

You shake your head, though what you're disagreeing with, you're not sure.

"It's okay," Chan says again. "It can be a lot, I know. And it's completely alright if you just need to take a break, yeah? That's allowed. But please don't punish yourself for it. You do so well and work so hard, and I know it feels wrong when you don't shine as much as you want to."

You stay silent, the sorrow beginning to weigh down on you again.

"Y/nnie," Chan says gently. "You can talk to us, okay? If you're struggling to take care of yourself, or if it's all just getting too much, come to us. We're all in the same boat."

"More like stuck with us in the same boat," Minho snickers from his position on top of Jisung.

Chan slaps the boy's thigh without taking his gaze off you. Ignoring Minho's whine of pain, he leans forward and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The simple gesture is so gentle and reassuring that tears well up in your eyes again, and you thank your stars that Jisung has plenty of electrolyte drinks in the kitchen because of how dehydrated you're becoming because of the crying.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay, Y/n," Jisung hums from your thigh. "We all have bad days."

"Just please, please come to us if you're not doing well, okay?" Chan says. "We all love you very much, and none of us want you to be struggling alone."

As if the universe has magically decided to prove his point, the door flies open and Hyunjin and Seungmin crash onto the floor, followed by a giggling Jeongin and Felix. Changbin stands disapprovingly behind them.

Chan presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "For goodness' sake."

But his words are drowned out by the mad scramble of the boys clambering onto your bed, heaping themselves on top of you in a mess of bickering, singing, and arguing.

Felix presses his cheek to yours. "I missed you."

You exhale a tiny laugh. "I wasn't even gone a day, Felix."

"I know," he replies earnestly. "But I missed you anyway. I wanted more than anything for you to be okay."

"Me too," Jeongin interrupts indignantly.

"Yeah, me too," Changbin adds matter-of-factly as he makes himself comfy on top of a squashed Hyunjin.

"Say you wanted her to be okay too, Seungmin!" Jisung pokes him hard in the ribs.

All you get in response is a begrudging nod and it makes the rest of the group burst out into laughter. Even Chan can't fight a fond smile.

And even if you're not doing well at the moment, you know in that moment that the rest of the members will always be there to fall back on, and the thought makes you relax, finally, your mind quieting and replacing the hollow feeling in your heart with a solid, steady warmth.

You are safe.

a/n: this was was longer than i anticipated

[jezabelle9299]

Morning Sunshine S.R x fem! Reader

Overture- Sleepy Spencer x Morning person fem! Reader. They're sharing a room, and he has no idea how you're so lovely this early.

Cws- Exhaustion

A/N-Wow, before it's even midnight--I'm practically productive. Day 17, I'm very excited. This is shorter, but I do kind of really like this idea.

If you'd like to read the other things I've done this month you can do that here: October Masterlist

**************************

By Day 4 of this practically endless case, morale was at an all time low. The small motel had enough rooms for everyone for the first 3 days of the case, but now it was the weekend and they were nearly packed. And of course Spencer’s luck had him stuck with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head for months now, in some cosmic joke where he’s trapped with quite possibly the love of his life–sleeping four feet away from him in a different bed. 

Of course it wasn’t actually a matter of fate, just a gentle push from JJ.

He stayed behind at the police station until he was sure you’d be asleep, then he muddled back to your shared room thanking every deity he could name that you were fast asleep. Only to thank each of them again at his exhaustion allowing him to just pass out without thinking himself into a panic just by being near you. 

You however were just a little bit overjoyed when Hotch was handing out the second round of room keys. Packing cuter pajamas was no longer an option, but you were still looking forward to Spencer being the last person you saw after this terrible day. If only he was actually there. You honestly assumed he decided to just sleep in Derek’s room to avoid you– a thought that hurt your feelings more than you’d like to admit. 

When Spencer did wake up to the lovely sound of his alarm screaming at him, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was you. He knew you were a morning person, but he never expected this. It was barely 5am, and you were bopping around in front of the mirror, headphones on, applying makeup while singing along quietly to yourself. He watched you for a moment, only drawing your attention when he sat up and you caught his reflection.

“Good morning” You looked at him in the mirror, and even though your makeup was only halfway done, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. His first thought was how beautiful you were, but his exhausted brain couldn’t form a singular other thought yet. But you thought he was adorable, with his hair lovingly disheveled.

“It’s so early.” He knew you had been getting as little sleep as he had, barely 5 hours for 4 days in a row. How on Earth were you awake, up, and nice at this hour?

“You could probably go back to sleep for a few more minutes, we aren’t supposed to meet until 6:30.”

“No it’s ok, I usually like to read and drink my coffee before I have to get back to work. But what are you doing up so early?” He slumped over forwards, burying his face in his hands to rub his eyes. When he finally sat back up, he was reaching around to grab his glasses off the hotel nightstand, and you had to fight to keep from swooning.

“I was going to go get breakfast before we have to meet up with everyone, you can come with me if you want? I saw this place on the way here, it’s only like a block away. You can even bring your book, and I won’t bug you. I know not everyone’s chatty in the morning.”  You turned your attention back to your own reflection, and he hated the assumption that he would just ignore you over breakfast. Even if he hadn’t slept at all, he’d want to talk to you.

“I’ve been told I’m chatty all the time. Well chatty isn’t usually the word used, but that’s the sentiment–I’d love to go to breakfast with you.” 

“I like listening to you talk, for the record. But I’m going to finish up with my makeup while you get ready, ok?” 

“Ok.” He made no move to get ready, only starting to lean back further against the headboard. You had extra time this morning, but not quite that much. 

“That may require getting out of bed.”

“Ok.” He still made no move to get up, and you just laughed. He had to get up eventually, but you’d let him stay there if he felt like it. You could be a few minutes late for the morning briefing.

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[petit-etoile]

Congrats on 200 followers! :D For drabble ideas, how about one where Tav is becoming overwhelmed from being the leader of their group and they end up having a bit of a breakdown in camp, so Astarion whisks them away and dotes on them for the evening to help soothe some of their worries.

i  am  tired  of  being  brave

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  1,036 content warnings: none other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, be added to the taglist here

summary: All you want is to get away from everything. Astarion indulges you.

‘Enough!’ you shout.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart have the decency to look properly chagrined when they peer over at you, frozen as if turned to stone. Shadowheart’s knife dips underneath Lae’zel’s chin, but the pretense of applied pressure goes away. You have no idea what hour it is or how long they’ve been going at it but the little patience you have snaps like a fine thread.

‘We have only gotten this far because we trust each other,’ you snap at them, pulling your nightshirt tighter around your shoulders. ‘But if you want to ruin that, leave me out of it!’

In what is likely the silliest mistake to make, you turn around and march to your bedroll to pick up your hunting knife and then march beyond the outskirts of camp  —  beyond Halsin and Jaheira and Gale and Wyll and Karlach, and Withers who seems to be musing over the situation with faint interest.

If Shadowheart and Lae’zel want to fight to the death, let them! You’ve done all that you can to get the group this far. You’re tired, you’ve been woken up two nights in a row, and you’ve had it with the drama.

You plunge yourself through the nearest bush you can find and sit next to running water, your arms pulled across your chest to keep the breeze from chilling you to the bone. You’re miserable beneath the moonlight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve slept more than four hours.

You almost doze off in the underbrush beneath a tree, but then there’s a hand sliding over your mouth and a body behind yours, somehow wedged behind you once your eyes closed. You gasp and try to reach for your knife, but Astarion tuts and continues sliding between you and the tree. It would be annoying if you weren’t relieved it was him. You relax back against him despite the feeling that your heart is going to leap out of your throat.

‘You shouldn’t fall asleep in the woods,’ Astarion warns you. ‘There are terrible beasts that have made this place their hunting ground.’

You shiver. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ you say. ‘I just needed to get away.’

He hums. ‘Did something happen back at the camp?’

It doesn’t do any good to keep secrets, and your other companions had already witnessed it. You tell Astarion about Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s never ending fight. It doesn’t make sense to keep attacking one another, especially since the Artefact is the only reason the worms haven’t burrowed deeper into your skulls. It wears you down every day to keep making decisions for everyone when there are people with better experience. Everyone looks to you no matter how much you wish they’d look elsewhere. You never wanted this fellowship to hang on your every word. You just wanted allies.

‘It’s hardly fair,’ Astarion agrees. ‘To have the weight of this…Absolute sitting on your shoulders. I can’t imagine what it must be like to wrangle us all into cohabitation.’

‘Some discomforts are easier to resolve than others,’ you say. ‘It was easy making everyone throw their stakes away.’

‘I’m fairly certain Wyll kept his,’ Astarion snorts.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t wake us all up holding it at your neck,’ you say, elbowing him. ‘They don’t have to become friends or lovers or anything of the sort. They just have to get along until we arrive at Baldur’s Gate.’

Baldur’s Gate still seems so very far away. Acknowledging this drags you down more than you wish it to. You’re tired of walking and fighting and lying your way out of every other conflict. You miss your family and your life before the worm. The only good that’s come of it is Astarion. He lets you lounge on him when you please in exchange for some blood, and…

It’s more than that.

Astarion lets you do whatever the hell you please as long as it doesn’t annoy him. You’re free to nap in his tent or sit at his side while he reads, and he’s even allowed you to style his delicate curls with pomade. He lets you kiss him if you ask, holds your hand. If you asked him to kill someone for you, you’re certain he would without question.

Reluctantly, you sit forward. ‘I should probably head back,’ you admit. ‘I should make sure everyone is still alive.’

‘To the hells with it,’ Astarion disagrees. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back. ‘You close your eyes and sleep. Let them come looking for us if it troubles them that much.’

‘And if Shadowheart kills Lae’zel?’

‘I’m almost certain Lae’zel would win,’ he says. ‘But, I have no doubt they’ll behave. You, on the other hand, are being naughty.’

You laugh but you do as you're told. You worm further in the roots and lean back against him. It’s chilly, but having someone else there does wonders for how willing you are to fall asleep. It’s almost nice how secluded you are away from the drama and stress. You almost wish you were a vampire so that you could sneak out and use hunting as an excuse.

The respect for all you do is nice. Sure, Halsin and Jaheira have both commended you for how hard you work for your age, but it isn’t the same. You still stand in the middle of camp trying to handle things on your own. The planning, the decisions. They somehow fall on your shoulders. A little more input would be nice, or a sign from a god that you’re doing the right thing. You try not to think about it as you feel sleep edge toward your consciousness. Astarion hums softly in your ear, and though it’s uneven, you can’t help but think it’s so off-tune that it’s lovely.

You yawn so hard your jaw pops, and Astarion hushes you, kissing idly behind your ear. It lulls you into an ease you haven’t experienced for a while. You melt into the touch. If you could purr, you would.

‘This,’ Astarion says, ‘is what you deserve. To relax here in my arms. Sleep now, and we’ll deal with what shall come in the morning.’

[slutforleeminho]

Finding you again • Bangchan

(angst, comfort)

"Why?" You screamed at the top of your lungs; the neighbors were probably filling a noise complaint at this very moment. "Tell. Me. Why."

Is this what couples do? Go to sleep feeling alone and cold because there is no one beside them to keep them warm? Eat their meals in silence, on the rare occasion you even ate together? Scream at each other until there's no more breath in their lungs? Pick a fight as soon as the person they're in love with walks through the door, barely having enough time to take their shoes off? Because that's what yours and Chans relationship is like.

"I'm really not in the mood for this right now, y/n. I'm tired and I haven't eaten or slept in the past twenty-four hours. I don't even know what you want from me. I bust my ass to make sure you have a roof over your head and food to eat and you treat me like this." He looked perfectly fine to you though, refreshed even.

"I treat you like this?" Your blood was boiling. " You treat me as if I don't even exist. You stay gone all day and night and when you do come home you barely even acknowledge my presence. It's like your annoyed I'm even here half the time." Tears pricked the back of your eyes, but you refused to cry right now.

"Because you always have something to nag about. I'm always working too much or I didn't do the dishes or take the trash out. It's always something with you, I can never just rest when I'm here. That's why I'm always at the studio-"

"Oh, cut the shit Chan. We both know you're not always at the studio." You interrupted him.

"What are you talking about?" He was starting to get visibly irritated with this whole conversation, but you didn't care. you were done pretending like this didn't bother you.

"I know your cheating on me." It was your first time saying it out loud, and boy did it have a bitter taste.

Chans whole demeanor changed, his face fell, and his shoulders tensed. "What?"

"I'm not an idiot Chris, if you aren't getting it from me, you're getting it from someone else. I mean c'mon it's so fucking obvious, you're gone all the time, and you haven't touched me in months," This time a stray tear fell down your cheek, a result of having these emotions stored away for weeks. "If you don't want me anymore just say it, don't torture me like this, I can't take it, I care for you too much." And then it all came crashing down on you at once, the possibility that you might lose him, you might lose the beautiful life the two of you used to share. The late-night movie marathons, the times you'd cook dinner together, laughing at the way he was terrible at chopping vegetables. The walks on the beach where he'd pick you up and pretend to throw you in the water, getting a kick out of the way you'd hold on to him for dear life. The times when he kissed you before leaving for work, and made love to you when he returned, telling you how much he missed you while he was away. How much he loved you.

The next thing you knew you were sobbing into your hands, letting go of everything you kept hidden for so long.

Chan stood there, eyes glued to the floor, mouth agape. You were too busy crying your eyes out to notice the tears escaping past his eye lids too. "Do you really think I'd do that to you?" His voice broke halfway through his sentence.

"I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like I don't even know you." You whispered before finally wiping your tears away and raising your head to look at him. You were more than surprised to see his bottom lip quivering and his whole body shaking, in a silent cry. You didn't know how to react; you'd never seen him cry like this before. You wanted to lunge at him and hold him close, to take all his pain away and tell him everything would be okay, but he should be the one doing that for you, not the other way around.

"I'm so sorry," He sobbed. " I have no excuse to be so distant like this, but I'd never cheat on you. Like it or not, you're the only person in this world for me, and now knowing that you thought that was the reason I haven't been here hurts like hell, but I don't blame you, I don't even know why I've been like this, it's like I'm on autopilot, working until I fall asleep and do it all again the next day.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Anything would have been better than the silence."

"I don't know, baby." A broken cry leaving his lips, but the pet name warmed your heart, and you couldn't help yourself any longer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you than he has been in weeks. He immediately responded, hugging your torso and burying his face into your neck. If you had known he was feeling this way you wouldn't have sprung this whole thing on him the way that you did. "I just feel so numb, so I did the only thing I know how to do." Which was make music. Because that's what he did, poured every ounce of his emotions into the beats that he sewed together to make something beautiful. "I don't know what's wrong with me." You held him as he cried and explained how tired and confused he was as to why he couldn't feel anything. He had drained every last drop of himself into his work, that's why. He always put the members and fans first, inconveniencing himself every time someone asked him of something, picking up the other members and staffs slack just so they could meet their deadlines. He doesn't know how to pace himself; he goes, and goes, and goes until his body and his mind can't take it anymore. he can't feel anything because he's felt enough. He has nothing left to give.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. everything's going to be okay."

~

And so, for the next few months he was going to work on himself and rest, to regain what he once had. After that night you made him take a few days off from work so he could rest, in which he used the time to make up to you by making love to you several times a day. He set up a steady schedule for work, making sure he didn't stay any longer than nine to ten hours a day and taking the weekends off. He even stopped doing the things that the managers and staff were supposed to do, which resulted in them falling behind on many things, and made for a hectic couple of weeks. But in the long run people started to realize that Chris wasn't letting them use him as he was before, so they pulled their shit together and finally did their jobs correctly. This was the first time you've seen him so happy and comfortable in his own skin, and you hoped that it'd never end.

taglist: @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukis wife @seung-mine @sungprotector @favieeerrrr @soephiphanymain @z4ir3 @minnieslover

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Nap at a Time

Week #2 Prompt: Afternoon Naps | Word Count: 1992 | Rating: T | POV: Gareth | Pairings: Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve, Steddie | Characters: Gareth, Steve, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Road Manager Steve, Corroded Coffin on the Road, It's Exhausting, So. Naps. Lots of Naps

Eddie's already sprawled out on the couch in their venue dressing room, when Gareth flops down next to him, bumping his fist against Eddie's knee. 

"Steve's been screaming that it's four hours until soundcheck," Gareth says, leaning his head back against the cushions. They're a little lumpy, but he's so fucking tired, it doesn't matter.

This tour has been a goddamn bear, and they aren't even halfway through it.

They're never gonna make it. Not at this rate. They're gonna implode, one by one, and he thinks he might go first.

"I heard him," Eddie says, leaning back next to Gareth, "believe it or not, his voice carries."

It's snarky, but there's no heat there, just endless affection. It's gross, and Gareth swears he will never, ever act this way when he has a girlfriend. He'll make damn sure of it.

"Anyway. This is your four-hour warning," Gareth says, closing his eyes. Maybe he can catch a short nap. Twenty minutes would make a world of fucking difference, he's pretty damn sure. Then laughs, "You're the one that hired him to yell at us."

"Mistakes were made," Eddie says.

"No they weren't," Gareth answers, closing his eyes.

"No, they weren't," Eddie confirms, and even with his eyes closed, Gareth can hear the smile on Eddie's face, as his eyes feel heavier and heavier.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" 

Gareth hears Steve's voice, and jerks awake. Sitting bolt upright, disoriented.

Steve's standing at the edge of the couch, hands on his hips.

"What?" Gareth asks, still foggy, "Huh?"

And Steve laughs, pointing, and only then does Gareth realize that Eddie's still asleep on the couch and that he must have been laying against him, or on top of him, one or the other.

And Gareth smirks. 

"Jealous?" Gareth asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, saying dryly, "Yes. Terribly."

"In that case then," Gareth laughs, and lays back down, squeezing between Eddie and the back of the couch. Eddie must feel the movement, because Eddie slings his arm over Gareth's side, pulling him closer. 

"Soooo comfy," Gareth hisses, taunting Steve, but not wanting to wake Eddie up if he can help it.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, "this is your hour warning. Got it?"

Gareth whines, but Steve taps him on the toe of his shoe.

"An hour? Seriously? You sure?" Gareth asks, because that can't be right.

Steve sighs, exasperated, "You don't think I can tell time now? Yes. Seriously. An hour."

They've been asleep for three fucking hours? Holy shit. He couldn't even begin to guess the last time he's gotten three hours of sleep straight. Weeks, for sure. Maybe longer.

Steve's still busy working himself into a lather, "Gareth, if I have to come back, so help me-"

"I got it," Gareth interrupts. 

"Good."

An hour isn't nearly enough time. Not at all. But it's better than nothing, Gareth supposes. So, he sets the alarm on Eddie's watch, Eddie sleeping through the whole process, just to make sure they don't oversleep and piss off Steve.

And an hour later, Eddie's slept through his wrist beeping, but Gareth hasn't, so he shakes Eddie awake, "Steve's beckoned us."

Eddie stretches, sitting up on the ugly couch that's more comfortable than it looks, rolling his shoulders. Eddie yawns, and that's about right. Nap or not, they've been spread too thin.

Then, Eddie says, "Damn. That was the best nap I've had in a while. I might actually be half-rested before a show. What are the fucking odds of that?"

And Gareth laughs, because he agrees, wholeheartedly.

The tour continues, and so do the naps. In green rooms, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. On the bus. Wherever they are, Gareth will find Eddie and squeeze in with him, and go to sleep. Or Eddie'll find him. It's almost like their early days on the road, when they had to share a motel bed. It's comfortable, and normal, being this close, so much so, that it's put them both right to sleep when they've needed it most.

And Gareth thinks nothing of it. Steve comes to get them, or Goodie, or Jeff, and when it's time to roll, they'll get moving. 

One more show scratched off the schedule, one more nap taken somewhere along the never ending road.

And then the tour ends. Months on the road over, as they chipped away at the schedule, one show at a time. Now, headed home in time for Christmas.

Gareth isn't sure what the fuck he'll do with himself. It's been a long fucking time since his time has been all his own. Is he just supposed to go home to his mom, and do what? Nothing? Maybe he can just crash with Eddie and Steve?

Though, he's sure they're ready for some fucking privacy for a change. 

Maybe Goodie and Jeff will entertain him. Let him into their secret best friend circle, for once.

He doesn't know, but he'll have time to figure it out. Right now, they're tidying the bus up as they head home, trying to get it ready to send it back to the company they leased it from, when Steve turns up. Book in his hands. It's not his tour bible, though, and the schedule is over anyway. No need to keep meticulous notes anymore, so Gareth's a little confused.

"What's up?" he asks, stuffing clothes into duffels and suitcases. His shit grew over the months, accumulating over time, and now he doesn't have room to pack it all up again. He'll have to resort to a trash bag he's pretty damn sure.

"Got something for you. For you and Eddie," Steve says, and Gareth knows he's up to no good. Steve's face is schooled neutral, but he can read him like a goddamn book after all this time in each other's back pockets. And he's up to something. For sure.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Steve hands over the book, and Gareth flips it open. 

And he laughs, yelling, "Eddie!"

Eddie pops through the curtain, "What's up?"

And Gareth shows him, and relishes the sound of Eddie cackling, head tossed back, fucking amused. Charmed. In love with Steve, and everything he does. Including this.

A book of Polaroids. Dozens. Maybe, hundreds. 

Every single one a picture of Gareth and Eddie asleep together, in various positions, on various couches, all across the country. Sometimes one of the other guys is posing in front of them, making faces, but mostly, it's just them. 

The story of this tour, one nap at a time.

Gareth shoves the book into Eddie's hands, and catches Steve by the neck, squeezing him tight. 

And Steve laughs, hugging back.

"Thanks, Steve. That's a fun souvenir from this hellacious tour."

Steve just shrugs, "I didn't realize how many we'd get when we started this little project."

And Gareth hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder, looking down as Eddie keeps flipping through the pages. Gareth was here first, he has best friend privileges, and first dibs, but he knows Steve loaned Eddie back to him these past few months. There's no question about that. One nap at a time, giving them time together, even if it was just to sleep in what appears to be uncomfortable positions, one random couch at a time.

"Maybe someday they'll be worth money. Some good blackmail," Steve says.

"No way, we're proud of these," Eddie says, "it proves we can sleep anywhere."

And it kind of does. It also probably proves they're immune to head lice. Some of those couches were pretty gross, looking back at the photographic evidence.

Eddie points at one where Gareth's feet are in his face, "Look? I didn't die from the smell alone."

Gareth bites his shoulder, and Eddie laughs even harder.

There are no secrets between them, no privacy. He's taken showers with Eddie, shared beds and bathrooms. Underwear and toothbrushes. Looked at, and has shown, all manner of questionable bumps and rashes. Held hair and hands, cleaned up puke, and one time they never, ever speak of - actual shit.

A few naps are nothing on the friendship intimacy scale.

Eddie looks at the bunk, the one that Gareth's sort of cleaned out, and asks, "One more for the road?"

Gareth laughs, but agrees, crawling into the cramped space, nearly on top of Eddie.

"It was a good tour, kid," Eddie says, hand splayed against Gareth's back, keeping him from falling out of the bunk and onto the floor of the bus.

"Yeah," Gareth agrees, "and the next one will be even better."

At home, back in Hawkins, Gareth wanders around. A little lost. He's tired, but wired, all at the same time. It's weird to go, go, go and then just stop. Cold turkey. That's never worked for him for anything else, so he's not sure why it would work for stopping touring, either.

They should have tapered down, weaned themselves off.

He rides his old bike, because his El Camino battery is deader than shit, after sitting so long. He hopes Goodie and Jeff will come over later and give him a jump, to get it up and running. If not, Steve will.

He doesn't realize where he's headed, until he's already there. Harrington House. He drops his bike in the yard like he's a kid again, and heads for the front door. Letting himself in. Steve is at the bar, doing paperwork.

Always doing paperwork.

"Hey," Steve says, looking at him for a moment, and then back down at the papers spread out beneath him.

"Isn't the tour over, what work do you have left now? You're supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in your new digs," Gareth says, leaning against the counter. 

"Just, running the final numbers."

"We end up in the black?" Gareth asks, leaning over to look. But he doesn't understand Steve's chicken-scratch shorthand, and gives up.

"Looks like it," Steve says, and Gareth grins. They got to play music, night after night, week after week, month after month, and even made some money doing it. Hot damn.

"Where's Eddie at, anyway?" Gareth asks.

"Trying to take a nap," Eddie mutters from the couch in the living room. Gareth hadn't even realized he was there. 

"Sorry," Gareth calls back, he can take a hint and go. He squeezes Steve on the shoulder, getting ready to leave, when Eddie speaks again.

"Don't be sorry, kid," Eddie says, then asks, "you in?"

Hell yes, he's in. 

"Steve, get the camera, I'm goin' in," Gareth says.

"I'll get right on that," Steve says dryly, but Gareth can see that he's smiling. 

Gareth toes off his shoes by the door, and then hurries into the living room, following Eddie's voice, telling him to hurry the fuck up. 

When he gets there, Eddie makes room, scooting over so Gareth can settle in alongside him. And Gareth stretches out, resting his arm over Eddie's waist. 

This couch is much more comfortable than any of the others have been. Steve has good taste, expensive taste, and picked something damn comfortable for a nice, long nap.

"Steve's couch is nice," Gareth says, face muffled in Eddie's shoulder.

"Everything about Steve is nice, haven't you learned that by now, kid?" Eddie mumbles, and Gareth smiles. He might have taken a while to warm up to Steve Harrington, but now, even Gareth has to admit that he's perfect for Eddie. He makes Eddie happy, and that's all Gareth could ask for, honestly. That Eddie's happy. And loved.

It doesn't hurt that Steve's shaped up their tour schedule, either. It was long, and exhausting, but they made it through. Left to their own devices, he's not sure that would have been true.

"What'd you do today?" Eddie asks, stifling a yawn. 

And Gareth closes his eyes, telling Eddie about his day, until he feels when Eddie goes slack beside him, back to sleep again. Gareth trails off, stops talking, and lets himself fall asleep, too.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader // Phone Sex

A.N: Very smutty. Anonymous requested phone sex, there it is.

Plot: As Callum starts the shooting of a new feature film, he feels very horny. His girlfriend too. Phones might be the key to their problem.

Callum had just finished packing his suitcase when Posy, his pug, entered the room. As usual, the dog smelled that he would be leaving for long enough for her to miss him. She lay her pink nose on his thigh as he had kneeled on the floor to pet her. Y/N was witnessing the scene while folding the clothes that had not fit in the suitcase. She too was starting to feel the weight of the departure on her shoulders. 

Y/N and Callum had been dating for four years and were engaged for three months but it still was harsh to see him leave, even after all those sets and award shows he would attend by himself, sometimes on another hemisphere. Once Posy had had her share of hugs and pats on the head, Callum turned to his girlfriend. He reached out for her, grasped her hips to bring her closer to his chest and lifted her chin as she was looking at the floor with a tear by the corner of her eye. He placed a kiss on her lips as gently as a dove landing while whispering in her ear: “You’re the love of my life. I’ll be home soon, darling!”

Though the distance between the two of them for the upcoming weeks was shorter than usual as Callum was going to Belfast and Y/N was staying in London for her own job, the couple felt terrible about it. Y/N accompanied Callum to Heathrow and watched him check-in. He waved goodbye at her behind the high wall of glass and was soon nowhere to be found.

***

“I’ve arrived sweetheart and I already miss u xx”, Callum texted as he landed at Belfast airport.

Y/N read that text over and over again, as she was preparing some Earl grey. She muffled herself in some blankets that still smelled like her lover and played some TV show on Netflix. She had no idea what the plot or the title to that show were as she was focusing mostly on her dog and phone. 

Y/N had always needed some time to accommodate to Callum being away. She knew that in a few days, she would be able to socialise with her friends again and going for drinks with her colleagues after work but as for tonight, she felt no energy and fell asleep rather quickly after.

When she woke up the next day, she emerged with some notifications on her phone. Along with spams on her mailbox, she had received two texts from Callum:

// 07.23 am - Callum // Hi darling, hope you’re ok. I feel like shit, missing u like crazy

// 07.31 am - Callum // Forgot to tell u just how much I adore u

His first text was an understatement. In fact, Callum had not slept much the night before as he had kept on thinking of Y/N for most of the night. He missed her habit of making up (terrible) jokes in all situations, her Earl grey which was like a drug to him, and also the intimacy the two were sharing. 

Usually, Callum was dealing well with the lack of sex his job could come with. Usually, he was fine with onanism and some sexting with his girlfriend. But ever since the two of them had gotten engaged, and for a reason he ignored, the sex had become amazing. It was incredible before the engagement but now it was out of this world. And they had not been separated ever since the engagement party. 

Needless to say, Callum was getting very much horny just thinking about her girlfriend being naked or touching his chest. By 2 pm, he took a break to go get a lunch and enjoyed that time to text Y/N. 

// 02.08 pm - Callum // I miss you and your body

When Y/N read that, she was relieved that she was not the only thinking that as she had this thought and this thought only on her mind. She caught herself daydreaming of making love to Callum during a meeting in the morning and she could not help but to imagine what it would be like to have him. The two of them had had sex before going to the airport, so only a few hours prior but it was difficult not to imagine something else.

// 02.54 pm - Y/N // I wish I could be yours too

// 04.11 pm - Callum // How about I call you tonight to get it settled?

Callum had never imagined suggesting something as crude as that. They had never thought of having phone sex but desperate situations call for drastic remedies, he thought.

// 04.48 pm - Y/N // I dare you!

Y/N could not quite believe what she had just read as Callum was not the resourceful when it came to sex. His education had made him rather shy to talk about the subject, even more so to initiate it. But Y/N was willing to give it a try.

// 05.02 pm - Callum // Is 10 tonight fine by you?

// 05.07 pm - Y/N // Yes! Can’t wait!

Y/N was feeling a sexual tension growing as she was imagining the call and she was glad she could clock out from her dayshift and go back home to make herself comfortable. As soon as she arrived, she rushed to her closet to pick fancy underwear. She knew exactly which ones were driving Callum absolutely crazy and gazed in the mirror at the beauty she had in front of her. Red truly was her colour, she thought. 

After running some errands and making her some food, she felt as though she could start the session on her own and started moving her hands below her trousers but then she received a call from Callum.

// 09.56 pm - Call entering: Callum //

“Hi darling, I’ve waited so long for this…”

“Hey Cal, getting horny much?”

“You have no idea. It was tough concentrating on my script with you on my mind”

Y/N lay in their bed, her eyes facing the ceiling and one hand on her chest, actively searching for her breasts. By doing that, she got the camera rolling and asked for FaceTime to get started. 

“Ooh, I see you put on that naughty bodysuit I got you, huh? You know it drives me insane to see you wearing it”

“Take a wild guess as to why I put it on then”

“Good, I see you’re as excited as I am”

“You have no idea what went through my mind all afternoon. All the indecent stuff I was thinking of that got me blushing”

“Hmmm”, Callum slightly moaned through the phone.

“What would you do to me if you were in London right now?”, Y/N asked as candidly as possible while she ran her other hand on her thigh.

“I would bite your lips with my teeth and then I would lick your tits, making them as red as your gown”

“Would you allow me to touch your chest back?”

“Oh darling, I would allow you to do everything”

“Touch your chest then”, Y/N ordered.

“We’ve got the right to order stuff now? If so, play with your tits. Show me how red they’re getting”

Y/N obliged as Callum slid his hands under his shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to see it too”

“Commanding, much?”

“I thought I had the right to ask you anything”

“Hmm, sure. Anything for you”

“Touch your thighs with your other hand so we’re equal”

“You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you, huh? Couldn’t wait for me”

“Didn’t make myself come though. I can’t wait for you to do that to me”, Y/N replied.

“That bodysuit is fine but you know what I’d love to see even more?”

“Let me guess”, Y/N said while taking off one strap of the discussed piece of clothing. 

“That’s right, take it off so I can admire your gorgeous body. God! You’re fucking hot like that too”

“Get higher with your hands. Show me how hard you got, pretty boy!”

Callum took off his trousers and a bulge could be seen from his underwear.

“I would do anything to play with it right now. But for now, you’ll have to do it for me. Stroke it slowly”

“I like that bossy tone of yours. Do you want me to remove my boxers for you?”

“Huh-huh. Let me see what my cunt is missing”

Callum took off his underwear, unveiling a boner that he had had for a good amount of his day. He gently began touching the length, imitating the back and forth movement of penetrating Y/N. 

Y/N could feel her loins getting wet by the second she noticed his movements and mostly when Callum got to moaning unintelligibly words that sounded like pleas. She reached for her labias and grazed the surface, with Callum’s cock as sole thing on her mind.

Callum sensed some pre-cum on his fingers as he was getting close to the edge. He asked between two moans “I want to see you getting wet for me. I want to imagine myself fucking you”

Y/N approached the phone to her thighs and showed him how her fingers were taking care of the pond between her legs.

“God, Y/N! You’re so fucking hot! I wish I could come inside you”

Y/N moaned at the suggestion. She too was wishing for that. To have her pussy circling his cock so tight that she would feel every drop dripping out of it.

“Keep playing with yourself. I’m gonna fucking come”, Callum warned as the veins of his cock were showing on screen. 

Callum stroked harder and harder, feeling a near release as he grabbed a pillow near him to press something. 

“Y/N, fuck!”, he moaned as his cock emptied on a towel. He gasped for air as he came back from his ejaculation.

Seeing that, Y/N wanted her share to and asked Callum to talk to her.

“When I come home, I’m gonna lick every part of you and fuck you so hard that I’ll make you moan the way you just made me come. Think of your fingers as though they were mine. Play with yourself, baby. I love that sight”, Callum could not stop talking as he felt his cock wanting a second round by just looking at Y/N touching herself.

Y/N put her fingers as instructed by Callum, playing with her pussy with a rapid pace. Though she could not comprehend most of what was happening, she sensed her breathing growing heavy. A few moans escaped her mouth before she ultimately cried out “You’re gonna make me come, Cal”

“Good. Carry on, I want to hear you moan louder”

“I’m…”, Y/N hardly found a way to express herself as she hit a spot Callum knew by heart would make her flail.

“You’re so hot when you come for me”, Callum snickered as Y/N was done with exhaling after having come. 

“I’m still waiting for the live version of that. But I guess we could do it every day before you’re coming back”

“I wouldn’t mind”, Callum commented.

[topgun-imagines]

Forget Me Not (i)

Requested: no

Summary: After a bad training accident, you wake up in the hospital 4 days later. Everything seems fine, until you don’t recognize the man by your side.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: There will be more parts.

Warnings: hospitals, memory loss, amnesia, plane crash, injuries, broken bones, angst, cursing, possibly incorrect medical terminology.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!reader

Next part

“Who are you?” The pilot's head snaps up at the sound of your voice. He had been sitting at your bedside for the past four days, waiting for you to wake up. There had been a terrible accident during training, one that sent you crashing into the ground. You couldn’t eject. No matter how hard you pulled on the handles, there was nothing you could do to save yourself. Hours later, the search and rescue team found you buried under debris and unconscious. You had been rushed to the hospital on base and immediately treated. You had numerous broken bones, a punctured lung, and a brain bleed. The doctors weren't even sure you were going to make it.

You were in surgery for hours. The Dagger Squad spent the whole time in the waiting room, all anxious about whether you would be okay. Rooster and Phoenix refused to go home, insisting that they would stay by Jake’s side until you woke up. It had nearly been a week, and the longest either of them had left was for a quick shower or to pick up food.

Now, as you were waking up in a room merely 20 feet away, Bradley and Natasha were resting on each other as they slept.

Jake stared at you with wide eyes. He had been waiting to hear your voice for days, and now that you were talking to him, he couldn’t believe it. Your wide eyes watched him carefully as he shot up out of his seat. There was a wide smile on his face, one that quickly disappeared when he realized what you said.

He spoke your name softly as he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. “Do you recognize me?” Horror spread through him as you shook your head. “Excuse me.” Jake murmured before he shot off his chair and darted out of the room. You stared after him, confusion written across your face.

Laboured breaths fell quickly from his lips as Jake leaned against the wall and tossed his head back. Rooster and Phoenix shot out of their chairs at the sight of Jake. “What’s going on?” The blond pilot could hardly hear Rooster’s words through the ringing in his ears. “Jake? Is she awake?” Jake heaved a large sigh.

Humming quietly, Jake peeled his eyes open and did his best to not let any tears fall. Phoenix’s next question had him choking out a humourless laugh. “‘Then what’s the problem?’” He pushed himself off the wall. “You wanna know what the fucking problem is Phoenix? The problem is that when she woke up, she had no goddamn idea who I was.” Everyone fell silent at Jake’s words.

You were always the life of the party. You were always the one to lift everyone’s spirits with your presence alone. Wherever Jake was feeling down, you never failed to cheer him up. You were the single best thing in his life. He never could have asked for anyone better. But now, you couldn’t even remember your husband’s name.

“I’m so sorry,” Phoenix spoke quietly setting a hand on Jake’s forearm to try and comfort him. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling right now. The two of you had only been married for a few months, and now you had no idea that you were ever married in the first place. The tears that he had been trying so hard to hold in were now rolling down his cheeks, dampening the black fabric of his T-shirt. She and Rooster wound their arms around the shaking pilot. “God, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

Just then a nurse stepped out of the room beside them. “Mr. Seresin?” Jake sniffled and pulled back. “If you would please come with me.” She headed back into the room, Jake trailing behind him. Your husband exhaled shakily at the expression on your face. He could tell that you were confused and scared. It ripped him to shreds knowing that he couldn’t comfort you right now.

“Mrs?” The elderly woman started, moving to stand next to you. You sat up, glancing between her and the strange man at the door. “Do you remember your name?” You nodded, giving her your name. The sound of your voice made Jake sigh. He had missed hearing your voice and knowing that you could at least remember your name was a relief. “And can you tell me what year it is?” That was when Jake’s heart sank for the second time in the past ten minutes. You thought that it was three years ago. That explained why you had no idea who he was.

The older woman smiled at Jake gently, seeing the pain in his eyes. “I'll leave you two alone. The doctor should be with you shortly.” Then she stepped out of the room, silence filling it seconds later.

“So…” You started, trying to fill the awkward silence. “Who are you?” Your voice was quieter now, less scared than it was before. Sighing, the pilot took a seat beside you in the hard plastic seat beside your bed. He gave you his name and watched your face carefully to see if you recognized it. You could tell that he was expecting you to know it, but when you didn’t, all you could do was give him a sad smile. “How do we know each other?”

Instantly, Jake began to think over your entire relationship, ever since when you met to now. The two of you met at the beach. The second Jake saw you, he couldn’t help but drop some corny pick-up line to try and get you to look his way. You had giggled at his cheesy line and a few hours later agreed to go out with him. From there the two of you had grown inseparable.

“We met at the beach,” He started, a barely-there fond smile on his face. “I made some corny joke and then we, uh,” Pausing, Jake debated on whether or not to tell you that the two of you had been together for nearly three years. “And then we became friends. We’ve been nearly inseparable ever since.”

You smiled at the thought. “Can you tell me more?” You liked hearing him talk. For some reason, listening to Jake’s soft voice as he spoke about how the two of you met had you melting against the scratchy hospital sheets.

Jake nodded. “Of course, Darlin’,” The pet name sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Why, you weren’t quite sure. “You were on leave and I had just been stationed in Miami for six months,” You smiled, trying to picture what he was describing. “After that, you went to Lemoore and I went up to Virginia. We still kept talking though,” There was a faint smile on his face as he thought about the last few years with you. “A few months ago we both came to North Island. And now we're here.” The pilot wrapped up his short summary just before your doctor walked into the room.

The older man smiled gently at the two of you, glasses perched on his nose as he glanced down at your file. “Mrs.,” He started, pausing when Jake shook his head subtly. “Miss,” The doctor started again. “It appears that due to the crash, you have sustained mild brain damage. This would explain your memory loss,” You nodded, listening intently to the doctor's words. “In time, you should hopefully regain most, if not all of your memories. However, we cannot be sure how long this will take. It could take anywhere from a few months to a few years,” Swallowing, you nodded. “We’d like to keep you in the hospital for the next few days to monitor your progress.” You nodded once more, yawning slightly as your doctor finished talking.

He stepped out of the room, allowing you and Jake to continue your conversation. “Would you mind if I slept?” Your words were quiet as you yawned once more. There was a soft smile on Jake’s face as he nodded.

Standing from the uncomfortable plastic chair, Jake stepped toward the door. “I’ll be in the hall if you need me.” And then he was gone. You weren’t sure why his words made you feel calm and protected or why the look he gave you before he left had your stomach fluttering. Your eyes slowly closed and the last thing on your mind before you let sleep pull you under was Jake. Even though you couldn’t remember Jake, you could have sworn that the two of you had a bond stronger than what friends had.

Jake knew that it was unlikely that you would call out for him. However, he couldn’t help but hope that even though you couldn’t remember him, you would feel like you could trust him.

When Jake stepped out of the room he was greeted by the sight of your doctor. The door closed softly behind him. “Mr. Seresin,” The older man started, a sombre look on his face. “I’m afraid I have some more unfortunate news.”

a/n: Thank you all for reading! Stay tuned for more parts of this series and let me know if you would like to be tagged! Requests are open <3

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @there-goes-thefighter @t0kyoreveng3rs @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @kmc1989 @ahoplessromanticwritesworld @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice. @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @djs8891 @blackwidownat2814 @dakotakazansky

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[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Four - Sunflower

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter

The only thing you feel when you wake up is wet. 

You had fallen asleep on Abby's shoulder so, she checks that your head is okay before she gets up from the floor. “What the fuck, Ellie!”

Both of your clothes are soaking wet, making them cling to your bodies. 

Ellie shrugs, “You two were out like a light. The only way I could wake you guys up was with water.”

“You could have shaken us awake. Not waterboard us!”

“Right, well, I need you two out of here before my parents get home. I don’t want people here when they yell at me for having a party…again.” 

Abby outstretches her hand and you gladly take it. She helps you get off the now soaking-wet floor. 

The two of you walk down the stairs, careful not to trip on puddles of beer, and make your way outside. The contrast between the dark house and the bright sunlight makes you squint your eyes. 

“How are you getting home?” Abby asks as she grabs her keys. They jingle as she grabs them from the carabiner clipped to her jeans. 

“My bike.” You point at the space where you parked your bike last night. Abby looks at you confused. When you look over, your heart drops. Your bike is nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck!” 

You turn and bang on Ellie’s door. Seconds later, Ellie opens it with a hand on her hip.

“What?” You can tell that she’s on edge. Whatever her parents will do to her is clouding her mind so nothing else matters to her right now.

“Have you seen my bike?” You point to the space where your bike was. 

“That was your bike? Some guy drove off with it last night. I thought it was his so I didn’t say anything. Sorry about that.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like?” “TBH, I was fucking zooted so I don’t remember that part.” You thank Ellie for her time and collapse on her lawn. The shoes you are wearing were okay for biking but terrible for walking. The twenty-minute bike ride from Ellie’s house to yours just tripled. It would take you an hour to walk home. You really hoped that the asshole who took your bike ate shit in front of everyone at school. 

“Do you need a ride home?” Abby asks.

"No,” you lie. You would like a ride home but don’t want to be a burden. 

Abby can see right through your lie. “You are not walking home in those shoes,” she says. 

She’s right. No matter how much you’ve walked in platforms, walking an hour in them would be terrible for your feet. The only person you knew who could do that was Carrie Bradshaw and she wasn’t real.

“Get in the car.” Abby opens the door for you and closes it once you’re tucked inside. The leather seats are cracked, adding to the vintage charm. There are two CDs in the open glove compartment and a pack of gum. Once Abby’s inside the car, she reaches over you and closes it. 

“Sorry,” she says, “My car is a mess.” 

“It’s okay. You should see my room,” you joke. 

Your mother thought that your room was messy when in reality, it was only a little cluttered. Your entire desk is filled with little trinkets and memories from your past life. Clothes are thrown all over the floor from playing dress up one too many times and sometimes paper lays flatly on the floor if you’re too lazy to pick it up. 

“I didn’t know you collect CDs,” you add. 

“Yeah, I do. It’s cheaper than collecting vinyl,” Abby shrugs.

Abby turns the music up a little bit. Some new pop artist is playing and she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, enjoying the music. The car is silent except for the music playing on the radio. 

You can’t believe the two of you were caught like that on the floor. Laying your head on Abby’s shoulder was innocent enough but the fact that the two of you fell asleep like that got to you. You didn’t even drink anything last night so there was no reason why you slept in. Then you remembered why you didn’t drink anything last night. You spilled your drink all over Owen. 

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and began to chew on it out of fear. What would Abby think when she found out that you spilled a drink on her boyfriend's t-shirt? Would she hate you and never want to talk to you again? Or would she also call you a bitch and hate you forever? Maybe if you came clean she would admire the fact that you were a real friend who never hid secrets from her.

“I have to tell you something,” you huffed out a nervous breath.

“Yes?”

“I spilled a drink on Owen last night.”

“On his J.Crew shirt? That ass.” She shook her head. “It was his favorite shirt and I told him not to wear it to parties anymore because someone would spill something on it. That’s what he gets for not listening to me,” Abby laughed. 

You let out a breath that you didn’t even notice you were holding in and laughed along with her.

“So, we’re cool?” 

Abby nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

You shook your head and looked out the window, “No reason.” 

By the way that every house on the street looked the same, you knew that you were close to your own. You look over at Abby, confused. 

“How do you know where I live? I never told you my address.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Owen told me you lived by him in the house that just sold.” She bit her lip. 

Abby pulls up in your driveway and you almost curse out loud. Both of your parents' cars are in the driveway. Even though they’re never home, they've given you a curfew. You must be home before 12 in the morning and according to your phone, it is currently 10 am. You were so fucked. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you slip out of her truck.

Abby smiles, “Anytime. And I’m sorry about your bike.”

Abby waits until you’re inside of your house to pull off. Instead of going to the left, she turns right towards Owen’s house. You feel the tugging in your heart when you see the two of them together. It shouldn’t bother you that they’re spending time together but it does. You can’t quite put your feelings into words but they aren’t nice.

"Where have you been and why are you wet?” your mother asks, her arms crossed. 

“Since when do you care?” you shoot back. 

“Some partners from the firm are coming over and we need you to be here,” your father rubs the bridge of his nose, annoyed at your rebellious tone. 

“Why? So we can play happy little family again. No thanks, I have plans.” 

You walk past them and into your room. You don’t have plans but you’d rather walk all the way to hell and back than play into their little act. 

You change into dry and clean clothes, grab your bag, and head out the door. You have no idea how to use public transportation but you’ll figure it out today. 

Your parents don’t argue as you walk out of the door. Some weird part of you wants them to call for you but you know them. You know that they don’t want to waste more of their breath on you.

You don’t care where you’re going. You just need to get away. You take the first bus you see and ride it till the end of the line. It drops you off at a public park. Children scream with glee as they play on the playground, people walk their dogs along the sidewalk, and couples enjoy the cool breeze as they sit and enjoy each other's company. And then it hits you, that weird feeling inside of you that you get when you want something you can’t have. It makes you sit down and watch as the small waves flow through the small duck pond.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Monday comes around, and you’re in the library with Abby. It’s the first day of tutoring and both of you are nervous. You want to be a good teacher and Abby wants to soak up all the knowledge she can. 

“So, what do you struggle with the most?” You ask, getting ready to take notes. 

“Memorization mostly,” Abby says truthfully, “But I’d like to work on everything.”

You get out a fresh set of flashcards and slide them over to Abby. “Why don’t we start with making some flashcards? You can write down the word and then the definition on the back.”

You observe Abby. She’s hunched over the note cards and writing things down with the speed of a cheetah. Usually, the curtains of the library are closed, causing it to be lit by the sickly white lights above, but today the curtains are drawn, exposing the beautiful sunlight. 

Abby’s skin drinks up the sun. The freckles littered on her skin make unique patterns that not even a skilled painter could recreate. 

You speak before your mouth has a chance to stop you. “Do you know what you remind me of?”

She looks up at you through her lashes, “What?” “A sunflower.” The way that she flourishes in the sun can only be compared to a sunflower. So delicate yet strong. The perfect contrast between the two.

Abby laughs which would cause the librarian to scold her but not today. Today, the librarian is nowhere to be seen. Odd.

The library doors open and the mood shifts. A chill runs down your spine. The librarian is awoken from her nap by the lack of sunlight. The clouds cover the sun and Abby is no longer illuminated by its rays. 

Heavy footsteps can be heard making their way towards your table. 

“Babe, I thought you said you were coming to my place after school?” Owen places his hand on Abby’s back and snakes it up to her shoulder. He looks you in the eye as he does this, making you more uncomfortable than you’ve been in your entire life.

Abby sits up straight and brushes the hair out of her face. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“What’s going on? You never forget to come over.”

“I’m tutoring her. Mr. Miller thought that it would be a good idea considering I have the best grade in that class,” you cut in on their conversation. 

Owen eyes you suspiciously as if there aren’t flashcards and textbooks on the table. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” he whispers, loudly enough for you to hear. He pats Abby’s shoulder twice before exiting the library. 

Once he’s out of sight, you can feel the sun come back out and the librarian knocks out. The sun's rays reflect off Abby's skin and back into the atmosphere. 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[evansbby]

Okay since we’re sharing our DILF experiences let me join the girlie circle. Please don’t judge me on the first sentence of my experience because it’s not as bad as it first sounds 😭

I

I … I slept with my ex boyfriend’s dad … THIS WAS FOUR YEARS AFTER MY AND I BROKE UP AND HIS DAD AND MOTHER DIVORCED WHEN HE WAS A CHILD AND HIS DAD AND I WERE BOTH SINGLE AT THE TIME PLEASE I’M NOT A TERRIBLE PERSON 😭 Plus I was 24 at the time and he was 49, this was in February

When I first met the DILF back when I was with my ex I had thought he was handsome in an innocent little ‘oh so that’s where my (then) boyfriend gets his looks from ☺️’

I broke up with my ex a couple months during the first covid lockdown and four years later I was at a bar and the DILF was there too and we remembered each other and shit he’s really handsome and we ended up sitting sides pressed against each other his face so close to mine it was a mutual leaning into kiss each other, I couldn’t stop myself 😩 I know it was so wrong like that’s my ex boyfriend’s dad but in that moment I was doing it for the plot okayyyy like hey he’s a handsome single man and I was a single woman so yeah I continued to make out with him

Then I let him take me to his place and I went 48 hours without wearing any clothes literally he took me to his place Friday night and I spent the entire weekend up until Sunday night in his bed / sofa / kitchen counter and only put my bra and dress back on the Sunday night I headed back home (he ripped up my panties so I never saw them again, really hot but kinda sad because they were really pretty panties 🥺). Best 48 hours of my life omfg I don’t regret it 😩 I know it’s sounds awful like my ex’s dad but we were both single and he had me seeing stars and CRYING from how motherfucking goooood he did me, I yeah …..

I have never ever everrrrr told anyone this because I know how terrible it sounds, I haven’t even shared it with my best friend, this is the secret I’m taking to my grave (we all have that one thing we’ll never tell another soul) but it feels nice to share it in some form as a kinda get it off my chest thing

Okay girlies this is fun sharing our spicy personal stories hehe it’s like we’re at a sleepover 🩷

girl why are you feeling guilty?! it was four years after your ex and you broke up, this is completely fine LOOOL

but also not you living your ultimate y/n lifee OMFG I am so jealous fr😭😭

Not you arriving on Friday night and not leaving till Sunday night 😱😭 NOT PUTTING YOUR CLOTHES ON TILL SUNDAY NIGHT AJHHHHDJDJSJSJSDJ girl this man made you see stars omfg YASSSS

And I totally get doing things for the plot and this is like the juiciest plot everrrrrr omfg I love this for you!!!

[anton-luvr]

Could u do a fic where the reader and Anton are best friends and have a sleepover. By the time they go to sleep it starts to storm and she’s scared of thunder so she asks Anton to sleep with her in bed instead of him sleeping on the couch. So like Anton holding reader and kind of cuddling to calm her down. Reader realizing she likes Anton more than just as a best friend so she kisses and him and he gets all shy but likes it because he likes her too and just kekdowodos really fluffy and cute 🥹💕 Thank you in advance I love your work!!☺️🫶🏻

# MY FAVORITE LOSER.

𖦹 bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff | best friends to lovers au 𖦹 note ; mwah tysm anon i love you,, also this is ADORABLE... thank u for requesting i hope u like it!! + reqs are closed !

Fun fact: you were terrible at Mario Kart.

Nintendo music accompanied by Anton's laughter echoes across your apartment as he wins the game again, grinning proudly.

"I told you, Princess Peach always wins." he boasts, waving the controller happily.

You scoff, folding his arms. "Hey, Yoshi can win too! Just you wait, I'll win you in the next round." you reason.

But just like the past five games, you don't.

"Just admit I'm better, hm?" Anton suggests, smiling.

You roll your eyes jokingly at how proud your best friend is, gently shoving him.

"Okay, let's not play anymore." you say, exiting the game and setting the controller aside. "How's life?"

Anton's eyes light up at the question, and he quickly sets the controller aside too.

He loved talking to you.

Whether it was a deep conversation about personal struggles or a stupid discussion about the validity of soap (don't ask), Anton knew you would always listen.

Your conversation goes on to the late hours of midnight, with Anton telling you about his upcoming vacation to Korea and you telling him about the random fight you witnessed at your lecture the other day.

By the time he's done talking about the cute cafe he passed by yesterday, it was already past two in the morning.

"And they have really cute cups too! We should go there someday." he says, stifling a yawn.

You nod, eyes drooping shut. "I think we should sleep." you mumble, stretching with a groan. "I only slept for four hours yesterday."

Anton gasps at this, dramatically shaking you by the shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? You should go to sleep, right now." he scolds.

Chuckling, you get up from the sofa with both of your hands up in the air. "Okay, fine! I'll go to sleep now."

Anton hums at this, pushing you towards your room. "We can talk more tomorrow," he says. "You look like a zombie right now."

He runs away too fast for you to hit him for the insult, giggling as he retreats to the living room. "Goodnight!" he calls out, waving cheekily at you.

"Goodnight!" you call back as you close your bedroom door.

Flopping onto your bed, you let out a happy sigh.

It was nights like these with Anton that made life feel worth living. You're still smiling contentedly to yourself as you get comfortable under the covers, drifting off to dreamland.

Until the roaring sound of thunder snaps you right out of it.

Each flash of light shining through your room made you flinch, the angry raindrops pelting against your windows making panic rise in your chest.

Scrambling out of bed, you run into the living room, almost tripping over your own feet in the process.

"Anton." you whisper nervously, tugging at his hand. "Anton, wake up."

The sleepy boy wakes up in a jolt, frowning in confusion. "H-Huh?" he mumbles, sitting up slowly. "What's wrong?"

"Can you sleep with me? I'm scared." you rambled, gasping in short and nervous breaths.

Even though Anton was half-awake, he immediately agrees.

He stumbles his way into your room and gets under your covers, making sure to pull it over you too.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, voice groggy.

His heart breaks when you shake your head no, eyes filling up with tears.

"Don't cry, it's okay." he says, hugging you. "Just... think of it as the sky farting. That's what I used to tell my brother."

Even though you were almost scared out of your wits, you couldn't help but let out a little snort of laughter.

"Wow, that helps a lot." you deadpan, snuggling closer into his arms.

"I know right?" he giggles, rubbing your back gently.

But it actually does.

The fury of Mother Nature didn't seem so scary anymore at Anton's joke and in the security of his warm embrace.

You realize a lot of things aren't that scary anymore whenever you're with Anton.

Despite the both of you being rather shy and reserved people, he somehow always brought out the best in you.

Just his presence alone gave you confidence and security, knowing that there was always someone there who loved and supported you unconditionally.

From him cheering you on for your nerve-wracking first day of college to him helping you tell the waitress she got your order wrong at the local diner, he had always been there for you.

And even with him being half-awake, he still looked gorgeous.

His eyes sparkled with a love for the world brighter than the stars, the soft smile he flashed you warming your heart up in a way no one else could.

"Thank you." you whisper, looking up at the curly haired boy. Without another word, you kiss him on the cheek.

Anton feels like the world stops when you do so.

All the blood in his body rushes up to his head, the tips of his ears turning as red as apples while he blinks rapidly.

"W-What was that for?" he stutters, avoiding your eye contact.

"For this," you say. "For everything, actually. I think I like you." you admit.

Anton thinks he just might pass out.

Millions of thoughts run through his mind, but he says what he's been wanting to say for a long time.

"Well, what if I told you I liked you too?" he mumbles, finally meeting your eyes.

"You're joking." you mutter, even though you were praying that he wasn't.

"No, I'm not." Anton starts, turning so he could face you better.

"There's no one else I like to spend time with as much as I do with you." he confesses, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ears.

"You're the only one that makes me feel this way, no matter what you do. Even if it's just you losing in Mario Kart for two hours straight."

You open your mouth to argue, but Anton puts a quick end to it when he kisses you, this time on your lips.

"You're my favorite loser." he whispers. "Can you be my loser forever?"

Nodding, you can't help but smile at how corny your best friend - no, your boyfriend - could be.

"I'll be yours forever."

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[sir-gio22]

TRAIN WITH ME ~Ben Shelton

Part 1

Ben shelton x reader

Prompt: you are a tennis player and your father trains you, too much. One day you faint and after you and ben happen to see each other.

Warnings: abuse, overtraining, fainting, mentions of hospitals

You're supposed to be the N1

You're supposed to be a rising star

You're supposed to be in the top 10

You're supposed to train bett

You're supposed to have a perfect technique

You're supposed to win every match, every point

You're supposed to serve better, to never double fault

You are a failure

A failur

A failu

A fail

A fai

A fa

A f

A

These are your thought, slowly fading away as you faint, on the cold floor of the hotel gym. After training for five hours in a row with your dad.

Those thoughts. They were the words your father say to you, every god damn day of your life.

Five hours ago, he dragged you away from the food you were eating, you didn't deserve it, he said. You only need to train, train, and train.

He made you run for three hours, only taking two little breaks, that was more than enough, your father said.

It's 6pm, he went to book a court for two hours for you to train after ‘dinner’, which he won't let you eat.

I will introduce yourself, if you let me. You are the child of a ex-pro player, your father was, twenty years ago, a slam champion and the n1 in the world.

When you were born, he didn't wanted a child. He wanted a prodigy. A pro student and player.

Your family, being rich, always made teacher come to your house to teach you, homeschooling you for years. The only time you would socialize where when your father would take you to elegant events about tennis or introduce you to other rich people. They usually were all adults, and the kids you would befriend in those nights were all spoiled and already acting like adults. They had the latests phones and clothes, they had perfect grades and everything they wanted, you, on the other side, had the things you needed to live when you deserved them. If you didn't train your father won't feed you or make you sleep in the cold and old basement.

At four years old, you were already winning kid tournaments, at 10 you won the national under 10 tournament, at 12 the under 12 one, at 14 the under 14 one, and at 15 your father made you play qualifying in the us open, you played small tournaments before in other countries, some 250 or 500 and a challenger 1000, but never a slam.

That week you won three rounds, but you got another qualifier prodigy at the fourth, which you lost to.

And your father let's say…he wasn't happy. The opposite. He was in the stands when you lost, your opponent celebrating, you shook hands and saw your fathers glare. You knew what was coming. And it was terrible.

That night you got beaten by him. And hard. You still have those scars, and you slept in the basement.

But what does you mom do to your father treating you like shit? Nothing.

She can't do anything. She's dead. A disease, the doctors says.

The truth?

Your father poisoned her slowly, it made her develop a disease. And the doctors? Corrupted by him.

Let's get back to the current time.

When your father left you sat on the floor of the empty gym, your father paid the hotel to have it exclusively for you when you wanted (when he did, just to specify, you had no word on this).

Your heart beating fast, too fast. It feels like it'll explode any second. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry, your whole body not just sore, but exhausted by the excessive training.

You fainted.

Two hours later, getting shoken by someone made you regain consciousness. It was you father calling you to train.

In the two hours he left you were supposed to get back to your hotel room and study, and he's already mad because you're still in the gym.

“Were you sleeping, huh? Don't lie! I told you you had to study! What were you doing?! Resting? You don't need that!” He slapped you. Your left cheek reddening.

He made you get up and pushed you outside, then to the tennis courts.

You had to train with the strength you didn't had, the only this you looked towards every day was sleep.

You entered the court, there were hard courts divided by two benches and a umpire seat.

You didn't think that any other player would be playing in those courts, since usually your father books a secluded one where there's just you two training, because he has the habit to yell at you when you make mistakes.

But you see a young player in the second court, you recognize him, *Ben Shelton*, you never actually look at others players or chat with them, but sometimes Ben came to you to chat since you started playing professionally.

You wave at him, hoping he won't notice the eyebags under your eyes and the state you're in. More on the other side than on earth.

Ben was training with his father and coach, Bryan, having a parent as a coach isn't a pleasant thing, for you. But Ben seems to love being coached by Bryan. Well, can't blame him, Bryan's a sweet man, not an abuser.

You place your bag on the bench near the one where put his. You father was still at the gate, chatting with another coach, while Ben and Bryan came to you.

“hey! Long time no see, huh? Been some months since we talked, I wonder why you never get seen anywhere other than tennis courts. Anyway, how's it going?” Ben says

“Hey, nice to see you again ben! I'm alright, a bit tired, my old man's killing me. But don't tell him I'm complaining” you joke, still by telling a truth.

“Mine isn't taking back either, I feel like dying every practice ahah”

“That's not true, ben, I train you the right amount. Not too much, like their father does. Are you sure you're not training too much, bud?” Bryan chimes in.

You're eyes widen the much they can because you're so tired to actually make a shocked expression, what do you reply to that? You could tell the truth, ben was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, or you could lie, and if they believed you you'll probably faint again and go to the hospital.

You stay silent for a moment, their eyes locked on your face, concerned and worried about you.

What will happen? Find out in part 2!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this at school so it might not be that good, but let me know what you think! Should I continue this?? I already have the part two in mind but no spoilers🤭

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 5

warnings: none!!! just sad

read previous chapter here

Y/N struggles with not knowing where Rosie is.

Every day had been the same since Rosie had gone MIA. You'd wake up, head feeling like it was in a vice and get to the school on autopilot. The sky had been appropriately gray, and thick with fog most mornings, the twin of your current state of mind. You'd stay at the school late, grading papers and try your best to construct meaningful lesson plans so the children could still thrive and learn despite your sadness. They'd sometimes ask, their sweet, little faces full of sympathy as they'd question your upset. “Miss?” A little voice would say, “Are you alright?” You'd force a smile on your face and look back at them reassuringly. 

“Yes, my dear,” your voice catching in your throat. “I'll be fine.”

---

A week. And then two. Three, then four, all rolling into a ball of nothingness, blurring together. Most days, you're greeted by Sally who is always available to walk you home despite the treacherous weather and everyday she looks at you with her big sad eyes, shaking her head mournfully, wordlessly reminding you that there's no new information. Most days, you walk home in silence, her arm in yours, keeping you upright physically as well as metaphorically.

It's on the fourth week, on a Friday, that you hear a sharp rap on your door. Being in bed already - the only way you can seem to feel close to Rosie - you simply yell “come in!” to whoever is visiting at this late hour. You hear the door open quietly, and hear the familiar tip-tap of Sally in her kitten heels. You hear her kicking them off and placing them by the door, hurrying up the stairs in her now stockinged feet, padding all the way up the plush carpet. 

“Hi, darling,” she greets quietly, her face full of sympathy. “I thought I'd try coax you out to the pub.”

“No thanks,” you mumble, staring up at the ceiling. “I'm fine here.”

“Oh, doll,” she begins, walking towards the bed. “How are you doing?” Still not tearing your eyes from the ceiling, you nod quickly, trying to reassure your friend. But she knows you better than that, and after all these years, she can read you like a book. Before you can properly respond, she sees two tears leak from each eye and splash into your ears and on the pillow. 

Trying to comfort you the way she used to when you were kids, she goes to lay down next to you on the bed.

“No!” you start. “N-no, Sal. Don't lay there,” you softly weep. “That's where Rosie slept the night before–” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to stop the tears flowing. “It still smells like him. Don't lay on it, Sal.” You pause, looking at your friend, her own eyes full of tears. She sniffs, trying to blink them back. 

“Then squidge up,” she says after a moment. “I'll lay on your pillow with you.” You wriggle slightly to the right to make room for her in the center of the bed, you just hanging off the edge slightly. She takes your hand and strokes it, just like she did right after Granny passed away. You whimper at her action, the sob that was thick in your throat finally being released. 

“Where is he, Sally? Where's my boy?”

“Y/N…darling…I don't know. I ask James everyday for an update. He's promised that he'll be round here like a shot if he ever finds anything out.” You nod, swallowing as you sniff back more tears.

“He's a good egg, Sal. I like him. I like how happy he makes you.”

“Me, too,” she sighs wistfully. “When all this is all over, I'm thinking of moving there to be with him.” 

“Sally, that's wonderful. I'll miss you terribly–”

“But let's not talk of that now. We need to take care of you.” She crawls off the bed and pulls you with her. “Come on,” she commands, rushing to your wardrobe. “You need to stop rotting. Let's go to the pub. Apparently, Rita is engaged to two of the Americans and neither knows about the other. Isn't that something?” You hear yourself gasp and then giggle, the first laugh you've made in weeks. 

“Well, now you've tempted me. Now I have to come.” 

—

The excited yapping you hear as you walk into the pub ceases at the sight of you, your friends looking back at you in surprise, before they stand up and rush to hug you, one by one. Murmurs of “oh, Y/N, we're so happy to see you,” and “how are you doing?” follow their embraces, and you find your eyes leaking at their affection and sympathy. Hugging them back, you sigh, not quite used to this level of affection.

 “Alright, ladies,” you struggle to gasp out, but smiling nonetheless. “I need to know everything about Rita. Spill.” 

They sit down, excited to finally be able to tell you the tales they've heard over the past few weeks. For a moment, your head is clear, listening to your friends chatter on, their voices octaves higher as they giggle their way through the spiel. You don't even notice that Sally has rushed over to the bar to greet James, until he places a pint in front of you with a sympathetic smile. He winks at you as you smile back, knowing you're thanking him with no words needed. You take a long sip, letting the alcohol run through your body and somehow, giving it warmth as you finally are able to enjoy something.

“So, she ended up saying yes to both men because she didn't want to upset either of them, and somehow, Y/N, neither knows about the other. But, get this! They're co-pilots!”

“What?!” you screech, ale almost flying through your nose in shock. “They must know! There's absolutely no way–”

“We thought that, too!” Sally replies, wide eyed and a little frazzled. “But Rita maintains that they have no clue.”

“Nope, not buying it,” you giggle, hand covering your mouth. “They must talk about her to one another! They're either ignoring it or somehow, it's not clicking that they're both with the same girl!” 

For just a small moment, your overwhelming sadness is forgotten, the pit in your stomach somehow smaller than it had been in the past weeks. But, then, all of a sudden, your mind goes back to the night you spent with him; how he'd touched you, the way he'd wrapped himself around you to fall asleep for those few hours. The way he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. It's those thoughts that send you into a tailspin, lips pressed together to keep the tears at bay. Draining your glass, you gesture over to the barman for another and try to keep breathing steadily. 

—

“Hey! Wait, seriously? You're not lyin’ to me?” You hear a familiar Tennessee drawl behind you, and an excited one at that. “Croz, she's right there!” They both pause for a moment. “Can I tell her, sir?”

“Sure thing,” Croz replies. You turn around at the two familiar voices. James smiling brightly at you, Harry nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, clutching his hat in his slightly shaking hands. 

“Y/N, c'mere, doll!” James beckons you over with his booming voice. You stand and walk towards the two men, forcing a polite smile on your face. 

“Hi, James. Oh, Harry, wonderful to see you. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No, ma'am,” he replies, now not able to hold back his apparent joy. “Pearson here has something to tell you. I've been rushing all over base looking for this fella to tell him what he's about to tell you.” You look at James with an expectant expression, feeling your eyes widen. He can't seem to get the words out, nor keep a straight face. 

“Out with it, Jimmy, before I lose my mind!” You scold, playfully pushing him. 

“Rosie got word to base!” 

“What?!” you shout, your arms going across your chest in shock. “W-where is he?” Tears fill your eyes and they escape before you're aware of what's happening. 

“He got shot down in Berlin,” Croz begins, his downturned eyes having an underlying sadness to them as he looks at you. “But, he managed to keep the plane flying until everyone had bailed out. He's in Russia.” 

“Russia? He's safe, right?”

“Yes, ma'am. He says they're taking really good care of him.” Harry laughs a little, wondering whether to divulge further information. You see that, and nod at him to carry on. “He says the vodka is impeccable.” Laughing, you feel familiar arms around your waist, Sally's head on your shoulder, half laughing, half crying as she hears the news. 

Word spreads to the rest of the pub, the airmen cheering and hugging at the news. James hands you a whiskey, then thrusting one in Croz's hand. You clink glasses with him, and with James before turning back to Harry.

“Thank you,” you begin, voice shaking slightly. “Thank you for coming to tell me, for even thinking of me.”

“No problem,” he replies nervously. “To Rosie?”

“To Rosie.”

---

thank you once again to my besties @sagesolsticewrites and @ginabaker1666 for reading this multiple times before posting (as usual!!!) <3

chapter 6

masterlist

[witchofimber]

I have had four pints and I'm going to indulge in my "who fucked/wanted to fuck Sirius" headcanons ok:

James and Sirius were like the male equivalent of that deeply toxic semi-lesbian friendship you had at school. As teenagers they were like psychosexually obsessed with each other in a way that never translated into actual hooking up but as soon as they graduated their feelings instantly morphed into "of course not, he's like a brother to me!" with almost no memory of what came before. Occasionally while extremely plastered one of them will reference a fantasy they had about the other while young and then they won't make eye contact for 48 hours. Then the friendship-necessary amnesia will set in again.

I don't think Lily was ever actively interested in Sirius but, like - look, when I was a lass there was this one boy in class who me and my friends used to track our periods by. 24 out of 30 days we would find him disgusting but there were the 6 days where we'd be like "You know, his combination of terrible personality flaws and unearned confidence is actually incredibly sexy" and that's when we knew we were due soon. That's what Sirius is to Lily.

Remus went from 'look, everyone finds their friends a little bit hot' to 'ok, I do find Sirius slightly hotter than James, but that's only because Sirius flirts more' to 'I am deliberately and consciously thinking of people other than Sirius when I jerk off because this CANNOT become a thing' to 'just because I'm sleeping with him doesn't mean I feel anything' to 'NO. NO. I REFUSE TO BE IN LOVE WITH SIRIUS. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.' (James charted the stages on a calendar)

Mary and Sirius cheerfully slept together half a dozen times. When questioned about it they were just like "Yeah?? We're bros!! What about it!!"

Dorcas and Sirius slept together a few times in the name of Hot and Mean Solidarity, but then there was a pregnancy scare. Sirius broke down crying in the middle of Wizescos (Wizard Tescos) while Dorcas bought a test. They have silently agreed to never mention this episode again.

Marlene made out with Sirius once and then broke down crying and admitted she was a lesbian. Sirius claims this proves that he is the absolute peak of masculinity; once conquered, never bettered. James claims that this proves he is the nadir of men and enough to put women off for life. Everyone else claims they are idiots about this.

Sirius once slept with Pandora, guiltily confessed this to Xeno, slept with Xeno to make up for it and then discovered they were poly the next morning. He spent a solid week in discussions with them about forming a polycule before Remus reminded him he didn't actually want to do that.

I refuse to believe that Peter has ever fucked or wanted to fuck. I will not entertain the notion.

[shion-yu]

Not Your Fault (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Shu comes down with Alex's cold from last week, but it seems like it’s hitting him way harder. Final part, thank you for reading! Fill for my @badthingshappenbingo space "Secret Caretaking." Original work, 2,360 words. No TWs, CW mild emeto, Alex is 13 here.

The thing about Shu was that if someone near him was sick, he always went down eventually. This had been true forever and Shu was bound to catch every cold and flu that made the rounds at the office he worked in. Usually he could push through it to the chagrin of his coworkers who had the joy of listening to him cough and sneeze for the next several days, but when he woke up this morning Shu knew right away that there was no way he was leaving the house today. Thank God it was a Saturday. 

It had been a few days since Alex had come down with a chest cold. He'd been truly sick for about two days, but as soon as he started feeling better he went back to his old self, attempting to sneak off to Ryo's as soon as he could. Shu liked Ryo a lot and was extremely glad that Alex had a friend, but he had tried to convince Alex to stay in bed for another day. "You still have a bit of a fever bud," Shu had sighed. "What if you get Ryo and his parents sick too?" Alex's face had soured, but apparently pointing out that he could hurt his friend Ryo worked because he had stayed home until the fever was gone. He waited for the twenty-four hour fever free mark and then escaped immediately. Shu was just glad he was feeling better. 

Knowing how his own body worked, Shu had been trying to get plenty of sleep and chugging Emergen-C for the past several days. He was actually hopeful that it had worked and he’d somehow been spared despite living in the same household as a germ-ridden teenager all week.

Now though, Shu knew whatever Alex had come down with had hit him, and it was hitting him hard. Shu groaned and turned over to look at the time on his phone. It was ten AM on a Saturday morning; he never slept in this late. Crap, where was Alex?

Shu forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. It felt like his bones were creaking in pain and his headache was splitting. He stood up, was hit with a rush of dizziness, and sat right back down. He felt his legs quivering like he'd just attempted to do some monumental task. Had Alex felt this poorly? When he'd wrangled the teen to the doctor he'd just been diagnosed with a viral upper respiratory infection, nothing too serious, but Shu felt like death. If it wasn't for Alex he would have given up attempting to rise from bed at all, but he told himself this was part of being a parent. He'd signed up for this, and parents didn't get sick days off. 

Shu wobbled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on the walls as he went. To his relief he found Alex right away in the living room, sitting on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. He glanced briefly at Shu then did a double take, his eyes widening. "Holy shit, you look terrible," he said. 

Shu snorted with laughter which turned into a chesty cough. He had to sit down. He flopped heavily next to Alex, black spots dancing in his vision. "Thanks a lot, kid. Did you eat breakfast?" He asked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

"Yeah," Alex said. "I think you should probably not be worrying about me right now though." 

"It's only a cold, you know that," Shu said dismissively. "I'm just a wimp." He managed to give Alex what he hoped was an encouraging smile but was interrupted by a loud sneeze which he barely managed to direct away from his distant relative turned foster child. "Huh'AEESHUHh!" He groaned, the powerful sneeze ripping painfully through his aching sinuses. 

"Uh huh. Bless you," Alex said, scooting a few inches farther away from him in disgust.

"Thangks," Shu said, snorting up the snot that had begun to drip from his nose. God his head hurt like hell. "You good here if I go back to bed?" He genuinely couldn't fathom doing anything else right now. Was he just getting old that this was hitting him so much harder than it had Alex? Was this what having a cold at thirty-five felt like? 

"Yeah. Pretty sure I'm safer away from you and your biohazard zone," Alex said dryly. 

Shu didn't point out that Alex was almost certainly the one who'd given him this awful cold. He just nodded and shuffled back to bed, making a pit stop at the bathroom to urinate and grab the thermometer. It had barely gotten a break between uses, he thought as he placed it under his tongue. He looked at his haggard expression in the mirror and grimaced. Should he call his mom to watch Alex, he thought? He didn't think he could keep up with the rambunctious teen like this. He decided against it for now though, not wanting her to think he couldn't handle single parenting just like she had. Alex was thirteen, he didn’t need a babysitter, but he did need to be watched closely to make sure he didn’t do anything problematic.

The thermometer beeped and Shu looked at the flashing 101.8 on the tiny screen. Not good, he thought to himself. He downed two Tylenol and then brought the rest of the bottle with him to the bedroom. He collapsed back into bed and fell asleep before he had time to think about anything else. He spent the rest of the day coughing and sneezing and using an entire box of tissues. His sneezes were most certainly audible in every room in the house. Every cold Shu had seemed to go straight to his chest and this felt like no exception. He could practically feel the junk settling lower and lower in his lungs despite the absurd amount he was already coughing up.

Around lunch time, Shu wobbled to the kitchen to grab more water. Alex was at the table doing school work, which was a nice sight. “Hey bud, you doing okay in here?” Shu asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice had become in comparison to this morning in a mere few hours. 

“I’m definitely okay,” Alex said cautiously. “You look almost dead though.”

“I’m really okay,” Shu reassured him, which was absolutely not backed up by the way he suddenly grabbed the edge of the counter to avoid losing his balance. Alex stood up quickly, face alarmed. Shu waved his hand in his direction, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t nearly fainted. “It’s great you’re doing school work,” he said in an attempt to distract Alex. Predictably, this caused Alex to scowl and go back to what he was doing. However Shu could feel Alex’s concerned expression on his back as he slowly inched back to his bedroom.

He tried to rest, but the cough was really painful and Shu could feel his fever going up despite the Tylenol. He kept thinking about Alex. Could he really trust the kid to take care of himself all day? What if he skipped eating? Not that he usually did that, mealtime was the one thing Shu could actually rely on Alex to show up for but still. Alex was his sole responsibility and Shu wanted him to have more than just enough. He wanted him to feel comfortable and happy. He wanted to take care of Alex so all those bad memories he had became more distant. It seemed like such a monumental task at times though, and right now Shu was in completely new territory. How did he keep an eye on Alex when he could barely lift his head off the pillow?

He made it to dinnertime without incident. Shu hazily warmed up soup for himself. Alex was nowhere to be found. There was a note on the table: ‘At Ryo’s for dinner.’ At least Alex had bothered to let him know where he was and it was somewhere safe. Shu shivered and managed about three bites of the soup before his stomach rejected all of it and more. He dashed to the bathroom with energy he hadn’t known he had and spent the next half hour vomiting into the toilet. He was glad that Alex wasn’t home to hear it. Afterwards his temperature was 102.6. Ouch. Alex’s own fever had peeked at 102.3 that first night he was sick. Shu hoped his own illness was following that same trajectory and it wouldn’t get any higher. 

He forced down a single saltine cracker and two more Tylenol in the hope that it would stay in his stomach, then went back to bed. His stomach and head ached, his chest felt heavy, and Shu was beginning to grow concerned. He hadn’t been this sick in a while and he hadn’t had a kid to worry about that time. He needed to hurry up and get better. He needed to sleep.

He woke up an unknown amount of time later to the feeling of a cool hand on his cheek. It felt nice... Shu forced his eyes open and squinted at the form above him. Alex? Shu was confused. Why was Alex in here? 

"You were moaning in your sleep," Alex explained, noticing Shu's eyes were open now. He looked embarrassed to be caught. He also looked worried. "You feel really hot." 

"Just a fever. I took some Tylenol," Shu said hoarsely, although he had no idea how long ago that was now. “What time is it?”

“Two AM,” Alex said.

“Oh,” Shu said, confused. “Did I wake you up?”

"It’s alright," Alex said, and scurried out before Shu could ask any more questions. Shu didn't expect him to come back and he didn't for several minutes. By this time Shu had almost fallen back to sleep and was barely conscious when he saw Alex slink back into the room with a wet washcloth. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep to save Alex from getting more embarrassed. He felt the cool, damp cloth be placed on his forehead and then heard Alex leave again. Shu fell asleep with his lips turned in a smile.

The next time he became half conscious it was only because he was so goddamn cold. He was shaking uncontrollably with aches and chills. He curled into a ball and tried to wait out the pain, but he felt awfully alone right now. He missed his mom. She was always so good to him when was sick, brewing tea and rubbing his arms and legs and giving him the hot water bottle to ease his chills... Just like... Right now?

Shu opened his eyes. Somehow the hot water bottle had appeared in his arms, as well as an extra blanket on top of him. He listened carefully, but there was no quiet chatter of Chinese radio in the background that always accompanied his mom wherever she went. He did hear the sound of water running in the bathroom though, and then Alex's voice saying something like, "He'll be fine, Ry, right?" Shu wanted to reassure Alex he was definitely going to be fine, but he felt too weak and sleepy and soon lost consciousness again.

The quiet chatter of Chinese radio when he came back to his senses was a sure sign his mom was there now. "Ma?" Shu croaked, forcing his eyes open.

He could smell his mom's distinct perfume as she came to his bedside and rubbed his chest. "Háizi. Boy call me, say that you sick."

Shu slowly processed what that meant. Alex had called his mom, Fulu. "Where is he?" Shu asked.

"Friend house," his mom said. "He upset, think you dying."

"Ugh," Shu said, concerned at the thought of upsetting Alex. "Ma, didn't you tell him I'm fine? I always get high fevers..."

"He no listen. Just like his bàba," Fulu said. She handed Shu her phone, silently instructing him to do exactly what Shu already wanted to - to call Alex. He didn't think it was worth correcting his mom right at this second - that he wasn't Alex's dad. Alex was his kid, and so it almost fit. He wanted it to.

Shu's hands shook as he found Alex in Fulu's contacts and called him, pressing the phone to his ear. Alex picked up right away. "Is he okay?" Was how Alex answered.

Shu coughed in surprise. Alex sounded genuinely worried. It would have been touching if Shu didn't feel so guilty about it. "Alex? I'm fine bud. I just have a fever, that's all. Same as you did, just a little worse. I promise." 

There was silence on the line for several seconds. Shu was worried he'd hung up. But finally Alex said, "You weren't getting any better, even though I did the same stuff you did." 

Shu felt a rush of affection. Alex really had been trying to take care of him, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. "It'll be a few days, and then I'll be right as rain," Shu reassured him as confidently as possible. "Do you want to stay at Ryo's this weekend?"

"Can I?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Of course, if it's okay with his parents. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. I just need you to understand that you don't need to worry about me. Thanks for calling my mom. I'm glad you got help when you were scared."

"I wasn't scared," Alex shot back, but Shu knew he was lying. "Can you call me again when you feel better?”

"I feel better hearing your voice," Shu said with a smile.

"Ew."

"Sorry," Shu laughed, which quickly became several wet coughs. "I'll text you every time I'm up, alright?"

"Alright," Alex agreed. "Um... I hope you feel better soon."

Maybe it was because he felt so rotten, or because he was relieved that Alex was okay, but Shu felt tears spring to his eyes. He swallowed and tried not to let his voice waver as he said, "Thanks buddy. I will. See you soon."