#I’m sleep deprived because I rather stay up and be distracted

[princess-adronitis]

Going to sleep and then waking up is the hardest part during a hard time

Because in sleep you forget for a little bit . But then when you wake up it’s fresh all over again .

[queenimmadolla]

𝐍𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬

Summary: Eddie being sleep deprived because his three month-old baby won't go down for a nap.

A quick little blurb that's been bothering me since last night so I just had to jot it down. More of Eddie and Penny here.

“C’mon, sweet pea. You’re killin me.”

  Eddie sighed, placing his three month-old on her back, alongside him on the bed. 

  Just as she had the last seven times he’d tried to lay her down, his baby began grunting, straining herself as she attempted to sit up on her own, neck muscles working overtime. She wouldn’t be able to sit up, of course. Still smaller than his forearm, Penny was much too little, nor did she have that kind of control over her body, but still she tried, wrinkly fingers curling into fists, face darkening as she trembled and her upper half tensed.

  She could hurt herself, though. So once more, Eddie sighed, carefully lifting her up and settling her on his upper torso, her little head bobbing clumsily in the crook of his neck as she continued to grunt and squeak.

  Penny wasn’t supposed to be awake, she was fighting sleep and doing so fiercely. Twenty-seven minutes past her nap time and she was trying to stare at the world around her in wonder rather than rest as she should so she wouldn’t be up through the night and keeping the two of you up. But this was now Penny’s world. And they were just living in it and caring for her, completely at her mercy.

  He’d set the sleepmosphere; turned off the lights, closed his blinds, and was playing a lullaby that came from the giant baby monitor that stayed above her crib. Plus, his little baby had a plump tummy full of breastmilk and no gas to upset her. Eddie had rocked her until she got quiet, but everytime he so much as peaked around to see if her big brown eyes were open, they were. Wide open and flickering to everything in the room, little mouth parted in awe. She even had the audacity to struggle against his hand, cradling the back of her soft and dainty head.

  Penny was getting stronger and stronger every day.

  “Okay, why don’t we make a deal? You go to sleep right now, and I’ll convince your mom to up the ounces of your bottles and distract her with conversation when she’s breastfeeding you. Look at that, you’d get more food and more rest. It’s a win-win because then you wouldn’t be screeching at daddy in the middle of the night while he’s sleep deprived and warming up a bottle for you.”

  And when he felt his baby’s bobble head whack into the side of his neck, “That’s unnecessary. I made you a fair offer with no cons on your part—violence is not the answer.”

  He waited a beat, eyes staring at the wall as he became overly aware of the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion that had settled over him that he’d since learned to run on. Eddie had reached the manic state already, now it was just acceptance.

  Penny let out a particularly protesting squeak, loud and demanding as she seemed to finally run out of strength, face rubbing into his collar bone until she could replenish it and lift her head again.

  “Fine. You win. Just know, when I’m old and senile and you’ll have to change my diapers, I will be returning the favor.”

[feralwifey]

I’ve been kinda weaning my toddler for the last two months because she’s been so pushy. Two months ago I started with day time milk- she would only be nursing three times during the day and whatever at night. In April I reduced it to twice. Yesterday was the first time where I only nursed her once during the day.

Night time is different she’s very difficult to put to sleep, I think she’s overstimulated and we’re going to change the environment a little tomorrow. She’ll get excited over everything and then force herself to stay awake. Before bed it’s a struggle she wants milk but gets distracted a million times even though there’s nothing going on she’ll find something. So that’s a problem. Then she wakes up and I give her milk, she sleeps for probably two hours after that and around 3-4am she sleeps with us until she wakes up in the morning.

What we’ve noticed though once I’m not there suddenly she sleeps just fine at night without nursing (besides that one time she wakes up crying, but once she sleeps with us, if I’m not there she sleeps with my husband and she never needs milk). It got to a point where I would rather be sleep deprived and be up before anybody else is just so she wouldn’t want to nurse and I wouldn’t have to be touched and bothered.

Anyway so from now on that one time she will asked up she’ll get milk, after that my husband will sleep with her and I won’t until milk is just not a thought for her anymore.

My goal is that by the time she’s two she doesn’t need it anymore. Idk that’s the plan we‘ll see what actually happens

[sydtaxerror]

Holoctober Day 8 - Haunted

The advent girls get roped into a ghost-hunting adventure with Shiori. Mayhem ensues. Another short comedic piece, doing a lot less gore than I expected this year. Buckling down for multiple stories today. Determined to catch back up!

“Thanks for coming with me on my ghost hunting stream guys!” All of advent was driving down the road in a large van full of ghost hunting tech. “Wait, is that what this is?” Nerissa sounded disappointed. “You told me this was a sleepover!”

Fuwawa popped her head over the backseat, “yobai!?”

Mococo appeared beside her “No Fuwawa, no yobai!”

Bijou added “Stop trying to Jaslight us Fuwawa. The Adventrix told us what that word means.” 

Shiori chuckled, “Since your family guards the gates to hell, does that mean you Gaslight, Gatekeep and-”

“Don’t try to distract us from the fact you lied about a sleepover Shiori.” Nerissa interrupted.

“I didn’t lie to anyone. Fuwamoco know exactly where we’re going. Bibou was already passed out here cause she was sleep-deprived after a 12 hour stream and thought it was her bedroom, and I told you it's a sleepover because it is! We’re staying overnight. It's the best kind of sleepover even. The kind that's at a Murder House!” They pulled into the driveway of a decrepit looking old house with a sign in front that designated it simply as “The Murder House.”

“Its called that because of all the people who keep getting murdered here.” Shiori explained as they parked.

Nerissa rolled her eyes. “I never would have guessed. Fuwamoco you knew about this? I thought you hated scary things?” Fuwawa and Mococo’s expressions grew serious. Fuwawa declared, “Its training! We’re gonna show these ghosts how rough and tough demon guard dogs can be!” 

“And if we spend 40 hours total in haunted locations we get our Specter Stopper certification from Cerberus school,” Mococo added. 

They spent a few hours setting up equipment and trying to get a response out of the ghosts. Other than a few temperature dips and one moment where Fuwamoco were taking turns asking questions to a spirit box and Nerissa snuck up on them and whispered “behind you,” which had them huddling in the nearest closet for twenty minutes, almost nothing happened. They gathered in the living room, precisely at midnight. It looked like something out of the 1890s with fragile old rocking chairs and dusty beige carpets bearing archaic patterns. After a fruitless Ouija board session where Nerissa nudged the planchette towards the lewdest answers her rather vivid imagination could think of, Shiori huffed in frustration. “Where are they? They’re being so dull! Since when are murder ghosts shy?” 

“Good instincts honestly, we are three demons, a rock with emotion lasers and a freaky, unhinged goth with unspecified magic powers.” Nerissa chimed.“

Shiori rolled her eyes. “Nerissa, I’m not going to degrade you in public just because you say something nice about me. I’m not your prom date.” 

Nerissa shivered in place. “Tasukaru.”

“Bibou…do you think you could give them a little burst of anger, stir things up?” Shiori askled.

“Okay!”

“Wait, Bibou!” Fuwamoco and Nerissa screamed together, but it was too late, her gems glowed a bright red and the whole house took on that hue. After a few minutes her gems turned back and the room returned to its normal hue. “Huh, guess that was a dud. Let me hit em again.” Before she could, they all felt a dark presence enter the room, and dozens of knives floated in from the kitchen.

“Why do they have so many knives? Isn’t this place like a tourist trap now?” The knives oriented towards them slowly before launching with incredible speed. Fuwamoco leapt in front of Shior and Nerissa, batting away knives with their claws. “Protect!” 

Bijou was off to the side, several knives flanked around and charged her, but they impacted on her skin with a slight “ting” sound and bounced off, some shattering. She giggled, “stop, that tickles!”

Eventually the onslaught stopped, the ammunition depleted. Fuwamoco turned to the rest of the girls. “We did it! We’re saved!” Mococo cheered. “We did such a good job didn’t we Shiori?” Fuwawa added, and both demon guard dogs angled their heads for headpats, not noticing in the candlelight that Shiori’s eyes had turned to darkest obsidian. She opened her mouth and glowing green ectoplasm sprayed out, drenching the dog-girls. “Shiori’s not here right now!” A voice much deeper than Shiori’s declared. On seeing the state of Fuwamoco Nerissa fell to her knees, crying out “Noooo! That should have been me!”  The twins screamed and ran around in circles looking for something to hide under, but eventually froze, they looked to each other in silent agreement and stalked towards Shiori with grim determination. 

Mococo grabbed Shiori’s collar, lifting her into the air, and started slapping her. “You have to fight it Shiori, don’t let the murder ghost win!” 

Nerissa said, “nooo, that should also be me!” 

Fuwawa grabbed Shiori from Mococo “Moco-chan, can’t you see shes already dead!” She stabbed Shiori with her demon claws, continuously repeating the action. “The ghost is trying to devour her soul! We have to stop him!”

Mococo tackled her to the ground. “Are you crazy. That's our friend!” Fuwawa tried to fight free, “Our friend is dead Moco-chan! Shes never coming back!”

“Actually I’m already back.” Shiori stood back up, dusting herself off.

“Oh.” Fuwawa said. Mococo gave her an I told you so look, and Fuwawa bowed her head towards Shiori. “I’m sorry Shiori, I guess that was a pretty big misunderstanding.”

“Aw, its ok, you were just trying to help.” Shiori patted Fuwawa’s head placatingly. “Besides you kind of did, it could have taken me hours to kick out that hitchhiker but he definitely wasn’t emotionally prepared to be stabbed that many times. Amateur.” 

Nerissa looked at Shiori’s now significantly more porous torso. “Um, Shiorin, is that gonna be ok? You’re human aren’t you?”

Shiori looked down too. “I’m only human-adjacent, but yeah…it could be an issue if I don’t take care of it. Guess the sleepover’s canceled.” They started to walk back to the van. “Maybe the real yobai was the friends we made along the way” Shiori said.

“No!” chorused most of the girls.

“Yobai!” Cheered Fuwawa, tail wagging rapidly.

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[youbutstupid]

I don’t ship George and Dream (but I love those that do) but I’m rather just very infatuated with their friendship. A lot of people seem to pin George and Dream’s relationship down to them just being two men who happened to be shipped together and I get that as that is what they’re mainly known for, but when you actually learn about it it’s just something that’s so nice.

They have been best friends for years despite having never met one another and despite being introduced to these amazing people who they get along with and have so much in common with and being in an smp with over 20 people, they still immediately run to eachother the first chance they get.

They’ll still sleep call and call for hours on end every single day. They will get upset when the other leaves (aka Dream going to shower and George feeling forgotten, George constantly looking for things to do on his alt streams because he doesn’t wanna leave Dream and George making Dream stay up and watch The Office with him so that their sleep schedules can remain synced).

Also the knowledge they have of eachother’s quirks and flaws and the acceptance that have for each and every one of them. The way Dream knows that George can be a brat, can be easily distracted, can be argumentative and stubborn. The way George knows Dream can get aggressively over competitive and will listen to him rant, he knows Dream will take ages to text back, can be a hypocrite and is also very stubborn. The way Dream knows George was once obsessed with Nutella. The way George knows and supports that once Dream puts his mind to something, he has to be perfect at it and no one can stop him. The way Dream knows that George arranges his hot bar a particular way because he’s left handed. The way they know all of these things about eachother and hold the knowledge of them so closely is the sign of a very close friendship. They don’t run away from the ‘bad’ parts about eachother because it’s what makes them them and they love eachother for who they are.

Also the fact that their channels are practically joint and will continue to be because as Dream said, he’s recording more videos with just him and George. I find it really sweet that although they both know they could probably have more traction and reach a larger audience by filming with the creators that they have become friends with over YouTube, especially Dream who now has creator friends considerably more famous than George, they still choose to only really film with eachother. And if you’re curious as to how far this goes, I would like to introduce you to the information that George is featured in 76/108 of Dream’s main channel videos and Dream is featured in 37/40 of George’s

(I’m really tired and sleep deprived so what I’m writing might be a bit disjointed lmao) But another thing I love is how potent they are in eachother’s streams even if they aren’t physically present. They always find a way to talk about eachother and make at least a small part of their streams about the other and it’s very nice to watch.

But yeah I’m not really making much sense anymore as I am very tired but basically: if you don’t ship dnf that’s 100% valid but at least respect the friendship they have. 6 years of watching eachother go from teenagers to adults is something that is very special. I mean Dream was literally with George throughout almost George’s entire university experience. They’re best friends my good pal and no matter how them or their relationship is perceived by the internet, that has not and hopefully will not change

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Deserve (KSJ x reader) 🔞

Genres: angst, smut, & fluff

Tags: brat tamer ksj, brat!reader, dom/sub elements (obv LMAO), references to cheating (no actual cheating by jin or oc dw), spanking, fingering, established relationship, possessive sex, unsafe sex (be safe irl y’all), insecurity, mentioned breeding kink, mentioned hand kink, sexting, jealousy, aftercare (always important!), lots of hickeys, whooo this one is wild

Warnings: ksj uses some mean language in this fic (slut, bitch, etc.)

WC: 3835

Reminder: 18+ ONLY

You grin to yourself at the sight of Seokjin readjusting his pants to hide his erection. The camera is angled low enough that no one notices, especially with the winter coat on top of his clothes, but Seokjin is embarrassed, you can read him well.

You love the sight of his large member tenting in his pants, even more so when it’s because of your actions.

You stopped by the set today to surprise him with dinner after a long shoot, but then you got jealous.

You and Seokjin haven’t seen each other in a few weeks due to his work, and he hasn’t been picking up your calls lately. You decided to put up with that, since it hasn’t even been a year of dating yet. Most people don’t call ten month long relationships “serious”. But when you were waiting on him to finish work, you saw Seokjin’s fans talking about his newest interview on Twitter.

Seokjin has such good chemistry with her! One fan commented.

Yeah he totally does 😍😍 I wonder if they’re dating on the DL HAHAHA. Another added.

That makes sense actually! I hear she also majored in acting, and at Seokjin’s college, too!

You watched the interview and you agreed, he had been too friendly with her. You know it’s all work, as an actor Seokjin has to be charming and suave. It’s the only way he can convince the audience he is deserving of the roles he plays. But something bothers you about the way they interact. It almost feels real.

Out of jealousy, you go to the bathroom and take a picture of yourself topless and send it to Seokjin. You pinch a bit of your skin until it reddens, making it look like a hickey. Then you do it again, in another place. They’re hard enough pinches to start to bruise, and you bet they’ll be deep purple in a couple hours. You caption the picture as if you don’t hurry, I’ll go back to him soon.

There is no ‘him’ of course. You’re exclusive to Seokjin, both romantically and sexually. But hey, you can’t be the only one that’s a little jealous.

You leave the dinner you packed for Seokjin in his dressing room and leave just in time to see him open the text out of anyone else’s sight (as he opens all your texts to prevent people finding out about your relationship).

You turn around and happily skip back to your car. Seokjin can be the frustrated one now, you’ve had it.

When Seokjin comes home, it’s nearing midnight. The shoot went on another 3 hours after you left, 3 painstaking hours you laid in bed and pretended to sleep.

Seokjin knows it, too.

“Covers off.” He says instead of hello, not even turning the lights on. When you stay still, he shuts the bedroom door and locks it even though you’re home alone in his apartment. You don’t usually use the house key he gave you since you always felt it was a bit early for you to even have one, but Seokjin had insisted on giving one to you (although oddly he never demanded one to your house in return). But tonight, you’re not shirking away from any sort of commitment. You don’t care what Seokjin thinks of you using his house key and waiting in his bed, if it looks clingy. You’re clearly not that important to him anyway.

The only light Seokjin turns on is a small bedside lamp he only keeps on when you have sex, to be able to read your facial expressions even when you’re tied up or blind folded.

Seokjin pulls the covers off you, leaving you cold. “Y/N. I’m here. Quit pretending to be asleep. If you want to come tonight, show some fucking respect.” He snaps, shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and glare up at him. Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Get on your knees.” He orders.

You do so. You’re dressed in only a pair of black lace panties and one of his oversized long sleeve shirts. You showered and shaved for tonight, and you’re sure he can smell his own body wash on you. But you’re not anywhere close to behaving yet, and you stare ahead. Seokjin tugs down the collar of your shirt to reveal your collarbone and the top of your chest where there are two bruises that look uncannily like hickeys.

At your unusual silence, Seokjin stops to check on you. “Colour.” He states rather than asks.

“Green.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue in disapproval at you. His temper is worse with you today. You have obviously pushed him further than he has ever gone tonight with your picture. “Look me in the eye when you tell me your colour. Have I not trained you well?”

You look him in the eye, anger flashing on your face. “No, you haven’t.”

Seokjin tightens his jaw. A muscle quivers in his cheek as he does it. “Is that the right way to ask sir to fuck you, princess?” He asks in a threateningly calm voice. His voice is just above a whisper and sends a chill down your spine.

You know what you’re asking for though. You both do. You smirk up at him. “Green.”

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed. “Over my lap this instant.” He tells you. When you continue to glare, he smirks. “You know it’s been a month since we did this. I won’t fuck you for another month if you push me any further. Write down the fucking date if you want to, Y/N.”

Knowing Seokjin always keeps his promises, you quietly bend over his lap. You can deal with being spanked or even edged until you’re crying, but being deprived of Seokjin’s touch altogether is the worst and you both know it.

Seokjin chuckles, tugging his shirt up and over your ass. He begins to knead your ass between his hands roughly, making you whine. “Who asked you to stop by the set today?”

“No one.” You answer.

Seokjin slaps your ass hard. “Does this look like a regular conversation to you? Use your manners.”

“No one, sir. I stopped by because I wanted to.” You correct, already breathless. Seokjin’s first few hits are usually lighter, but he doesn’t have that kind of patience with you tonight. He gives you the kind of smacks he saves for the end right at the start.

Seokjin scoffs, continuing to knead at the same part he just hit. You wriggle in his lap at the touch, making him laugh at you. “Are you that sensitive because I haven’t fucked you in so long? Or is it because your new dom is too soft on you?”

Another hit to the opposite cheek when you take too long to answer. “Do you want to go another month without coming?” Seokjin growls in your ear.

“N-No, sir.” You answer.

Seokjin scoffs at your answer. “Sir, my ass. If you had any respect for me you wouldn’t cheat. I bet you act all coy with him because he doesn’t know you like I do. I bet he thinks you’re some soft little sub that can only be fucked in missionary position. But he doesn’t know you’re a disobedient bitch, does he, Y/N?”

Two more hard smacks, followed immediately by him kneading your ass. “N-No, sir.” You reply breathlessly. Seokjin didn’t give you a number of hits tonight, which means he is going to punish you until you’re crying. Those nights always left you sore the next day, but tonight you feel sore already. Even just sitting tomorrow will be an achievement, forget walking.

“What do you even like about him?” Seokjin asks in a cold voice. “Is he your ideal ‘type’ or some bullshit?”

You close your eyes, envisioning your ideal man. Tall and muscular. Large biceps but a small waist. Cute dimples and round cheeks and shiny eyes when he smiles. Long fingers with rounded nails that look beautiful adorned with jewellery, but the most beautiful when wrapped around your hips, your neck, and especially when inside your––

Four hard smacks in succession, two to each ass cheek. “I asked you a fucking question, didn’t I?” Seokjin asks coldly. When you tremble under him, he pauses. “Colour.”

You sniffle, brushing tears away. “Green.”

“You already took eight. You don’t have to take anymore if you don’t want to, you know that.” Seokjin reminds you, no longer angry. He actually sounds a bit guilty. He gently rubs over your ass, making you wince. “Sorry. I did too much this time, right?” He whispers, now rubbing your lower back in apology.

“I want more.” You tell him through your tears. You turn your head so you can look him in the eye. “I want as much as sir thinks I deserve.”

Seokjin considers it for a moment. Then, he chuckles. “There’s my girl.” He says softly, even though there’s nothing soft about how his hands come down on your ass.

He gives you four more, two to each ass cheek. By the time he’s done, you’re sobbing. It burns, it really does. But you like it like this, like being all his. Even if he’s smiling at some other woman while he’s working or even dating her, you like being just his in this moment. And because you’ve made him jealous too, Seokjin will definitely remind you of that fact tonight. Even if he doesn’t really believe it anymore.

Seokjin manhandles you onto the bed, making you lay down against his pillow. You hiss in pain but Seokjin is quick to kiss you. He does a great job of distracting you, kissing you deep and making you moan in his mouth. He only breaks away from the kiss to unbutton the shirt you’re wearing.

“So fucking dirty. Letting some asshole get his hands on what’s mine all because I left you alone for a few weeks.” Seokjin curses, pushing you further into the mattress as he lays on top of you. You gasp as he sucks hard hickeys on your neck, your collarbones, and the top of your chest. Seokjin takes special care to cover the two bruises you made with larger ones, pinning you down by the waist as you wriggle against him.

“S-Sir.” You whimper, but Seokjin keeps going lower. He even leaves hickeys on your breasts and on your ribcage, refusing to leave you unmarked anywhere. You’re sure you will have over a dozen on you tomorrow morning.

When he’s satisfied, Seokjin returns to your breasts. He is all tongue and teeth as he sucks at them until they’re both hard. You whine as he pinches them both hard afterwards. “You let some other guy do this to you? When only I can fucking work you up like this?” Seokjin demands, anger returning to his voice. He clamps one hand over your throat, not hard enough to block your breathing but enough to make your head spin. “Answer me, Y/N. Right fucking now.”

“S-Sorry, sir.” You answer, not really sure what you’re sorry for. You haven’t cheated on him, but his reaction makes you more sorry than if you had. You hadn’t known Seokjin could look at you with that kind of fire in his eyes. It’s different from other scenes, where Seokjin was turned on but carefully in control. Tonight, Seokjin is angry. But under it, there’s another emotion that shines just as brightly. Hurt. Seokjin is hurt by what he thinks you did.

Seokjin takes his hand off you. “You’re not sorry yet, princess. But you will be.” He warns.

Seokjin sinks lower, pressing kisses to your pubic bone and lower. He pulls your panties down and discards them. Then, Seokjin starts making new hickeys on the insides of your thighs without breaking eye contact.

When Seokjin finally pushes his middle finger into you, you’re half out of your mind and so wet it makes the insides of your thighs glisten. “Did he do this to you, princess?” Seokjin asks you, stretching you easily.

You shake your head, pushing your hips to get him to touch that spot. Seokjin grips your hip with one hand, nails digging into the skin as he holds you in place. The pain is what reminds you that he asked a question. “No! No one can do this to me.” You answer honestly, panting from the force of not coming. It would be so embarrassing to come from being fingered a little, and knowing Seokjin’s mood, he might not let you come the rest of the night if you come without permission.

Seokjin re-enters, two fingers this time. When you moan, he kisses one of the hickeys he made to cover your bruise. “That’s what I thought.” He says in a sing-song voice, mocking you. You grip his shoulders, grateful that Seokjin hadn’t tied you up as part of punishment. You dig your nails into the strong skin there, feeling him tense at how hard you do it. You don’t mean it as pay back or anything for him gripping your hip, you’re truly just that worked up tonight. But no matter his anger, Seokjin always checks on you. “Colour.”

“Green, green. Oh fuck Seokjin. Please can I come, please, please?” You beg, tipping your head back as tears roll out of them. As you clench around his fingers, Seokjin just chuckles and scissors you.

A few pumps later, he adds a third finger. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight?” He mocks you. “Look at how tight you are, I don’t even think you can take my cock tonight. That’s what happens when you fuck someone that isn’t as good as me, I guess.” Seokjin mocks you, rubbing his thumb against your clit to rile you up more.

“Ugh, I said I’m s-sorry! Sir, please.” You wriggle.

Seokjin smirks down at you. “You said it yourself, princess. ‘As much as sir thinks I deserve.’ And I think you deserve to be reminded who you fucking belong to, not to come. But if you beg really well, I might come in you. I bet you’d love to be bred by me after so long, stuffed full of my come like a dumb little slut.” Seokjin slows down, tightening his jaw again. “That is if it’s even special to you anymore. Assuming you don’t let him come in you too, of fucking course.” Seokjin punctuates each word with a hard thrust that has you scrambling for purchase on the bed sheets.

“I don’t, sir! I don’t! No one has except you.” You tell him. It’s true. You have been on birth control for years, but have never done it raw with any man until you met Seokjin. You had always been too afraid in case you missed your pill a day and wound up pregnant. But Seokjin had made you feel safer than any ex-boyfriend of yours had. Only a few months into dating, Seokjin made you feel safe enough to let him go raw, and never made you regret it. Hell, he even picked up your prescription for you when you worked late.

Seokjin’s fingers slip out of you. He pushes a stray hair back from your face, making you shiver as he gets some pre-come on your forehead. “And why’s that, princess?”

“I belong to you. I’m yours.”

You jolt in surprise as you feel the head of Seokjin’s cock press against your entrance. You grip his wide shoulders as he eases into you, but Seokjin pulls your hands off. He pins you down against the mattress, a hand to each wrist. “Correct.” He replies, before starting to move.

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips with each of his movements. They’re not loud, actually the opposite. Seokjin’s punishment and teasing tired you out, so you can only let out soft moans and whines now. Seokjin pins you down, eyes pitch black and piercing in the dim light. There are no words needed for what Seokjin is doing right now. He’s trying to prove himself to you.

That only makes you feel more guilty. Even a simple nude while he was working would’ve riled Seokjin up, why did you have to make him think you cheated? In hindsight, you hadn’t been thinking straight. “I-I’m sorry.” You whisper as you look at Seokjin.

Seokjin looks away from you and down at your chest, at the darkening spots on your body. “Shut up.” He whispers back. His grip tightens on your wrists and he picks up the pace.

You’re getting close and you know Seokjin is, too. “S-Sir. Please.” You beg.

Seokjin pulls your arms up, taking both of your wrists in one hand and holding them away. You arch your back as the head of his cock rubs against your g-spot. “Sir!” You cry out. When Seokjin’s hips start to stutter, you finally lose your patience. “Fuck, Seokjin!”

Seokjin lets go of your wrists. One hand comes to grip your thigh hard, pushing it as far out as it can go. The other comes to rub at your clit. His pace picks up again, filling you up in a way that feels entirely different this time.

When you come, it feels like a flood of emotion. You tremble and clench around Seokjin, moaning his name and crying. When Seokjin comes, it’s with a deep moan and his fingernails digging into your skin, sure to leave marks tomorrow morning. You both know it, but you’re not upset at all. You have always liked the reminder that you’re his and only his.

Seokjin collapses on top of you as you both come down from your high. Seokjin pushes his bangs back from his forehead, wiping at the sweat on his face with one hand. He doesn’t look you in the eye. You try to kiss him, but he pulls away. He sits up, pulling out of you. Seokjin grabs tissues off the nightstand and wipes himself and you down gently.

“You can use the shower in the guest bedroom.” Seokjin says.

You grab his hand before he can go. “Why can’t I use your shower? We’ve showered together before.”

Seokjin pulls his hand away. “That was before you cheated on me, Y/N. I know we fucked tonight, but this is it. I’m not your boyfriend after tonight.”

Your heart sinks. “Seokjin. I didn’t actually cheat on you.”

That makes Seokjin look at you, eyes still dark but now sad. “Don’t lie to me now, Y/N. You told me clearly in your text that another guy made hickeys on you and that you were going to go back to him.”

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours. “I actually pinched myself. I only meant to make it look real and tease you, but I went too far. I’m sorry baby. I really am.”

Seokjin looks at you like he can’t believe his own ears. “You gave yourself bruises that look like hickeys just to make me mad?”

When you nod and look honest, Seokjin pulls you close. “Why?”

“I watched your newest interview.” You say.

A long moment passes and then Seokjin seems to get what you’re saying. “Were you jealous of me interacting with her?” Seokjin asks, surprised. When you pout he starts to laugh. He tips his head back and closes his eyes at how funny it is to him but it’s not funny to you. When you smack his chest lightly, he looks at you with a fond smile. He brushes your hair behind your ear. “Say it. Were you jealous?”

You bite your lip. Seokjin notices immediately you’re not finding this funny and grows serious. You look away from him. “I was jealous. But I was also insecure.”

“Insecure?” Seokjin repeats the word. “Why?”

You play with his hands. “Don’t know.” You mumble.

Seokjin cups your face and makes you look at him. “Be honest.” He tells you. “You know I like it when you’re honest the most, right?”

You chew your bottom lip. “I...I saw some stuff on Twitter. They said you two looked like a couple. And to be honest, you were kinda too friendly with her.”

Seokjin looks sad. “And that’s why you teased me? Even though you knew I’d think you were just playing and punish you?” You nod. Seokjin’s brows knit together. He pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve thought more.”

You shake your head, but tears fall on Seokjin’s shoulder anyway. “I liked it. I always like it when we have sex like that. But I also wanted your attention.”

“You always have my attention.” Seokjin pulls back, cupping your face again. His eyes are wide and genuine. You love that the most about Seokjin; even though he’s an actor, he’s never lied to you. “Let’s take a shower.”

So you do. The two of you get in the shower together. Seokjin washes your chest and between your thighs for you, gentle as he touches the hickeys he made. You wash his back for him and his hair, giving him little kisses every now and then. You grab a spare pair of panties you left at his house and another one of his shirts.

When you get in bed, Seokjin turns you onto your back and applies lotion onto your ass. You wince at the burn of lotion on your sore spots. “Sorry baby. I got really angry thinking about you sleeping with someone else and lost my control.” Seokjin apologizes for the 1000th time.

“It’s okay. I wanted this.” You reply to him for the 1000th time. But still, Seokjin is really gentle with you.

“I only want you, okay?” You tell him when you lay on top of his chest later. “Even though I know after tonight, I don’t deserve you.”

Seokjin kisses your forehead. “Don’t ever say that baby. Of course you deserve me.”

You make yourself comfortable against him and he tucks the blankets in around both of you. “Do I?”

Seokjin rubs your back. “Someone like you deserves the best, Y/N. And naturally, that’s me, Kim Seokjin.” He ends jokingly.

You scoff but kiss his cheek anyway. “That’s true. My boyfriend is the best.”

Seokjin smiles at you lovingly. “I love you.”

Your eyes widen. Seokjin’s eyes widen too. “Shit. I mean, no. Well, no, I mean yes.” Seokjin stammers, ears turning pink. “Sorry, this is too quick right? Fuck, we haven’t even dated a year but I already said that.”

“I love you too.” You reply, feeling yourself blush too. It’s so odd how you’ve been entirely naked before him before but you feel more vulnerable now.

You and Seokjin smile at each other. “I must’ve saved the country in my past life to deserve you.” You whisper.

“That’s my line, baby.” Seokjin teases, kissing your lips sweetly. You melt into him, safe and comfortable. This is home.

[coffeeshib]

Kara just really really wants to date Lena supercorp au?

“Date me,” Kara says.

“No,” Lena answers calmly.

Kara gasps, blinking fast, shocked by the nonchalant response. Lena merely looks at her tablet, her attention clearly divided. Her best friend sits cross-legged next to her on the couch, sweater and sweatpants and socks on, comfortable and relaxed.

“No? But—Lena, I’m cute and funny.” Kara scrunches her nose and squints at Lena’s tablet screen.

Lena pauses. “That’s true,” she says slowly, and finally looks at Kara. Lifting her hand up, she pushes Kara’s glasses back up on her nose using her index finger. Then, she only just returns her attention back to her tablet.

Alex squints at them from across the room. “Oh, great,” she groans, before standing up and taking her phone out of her pocket. “Where's Kelly?” she mumbles to herself as she leaves the living room, making her way to Lena’s balcony.

“Is that—wait, so is that a yes?”

“It’s a no, Kara. I only agreed with the cute & funny part,” Lena says, distracted.

“Lena.” Kara's mouth opens and closes, eyes blinking fast. “Wow, you don’t let a girl down easy. Sad girl down!”

“Well, get back up,” Lena quips. She strokes Kara’s knee, touch tender.

“I—what—?” Kara stammers, with wild eyes. Falling backwards on the couch, she stares at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you—is this how you usually respond when someone asks you out? So this is what rejection feels like.”

“Trust me, you’ll feel better after eating a plate full of potstickers.”

“Maybe.” Kara bites her bottom lip. Frowning, she sits back up and pokes Lena’s thigh. “But can I ask why not? I have abs, Lena.”

Lena wheezes. A few seconds later, Kara also shakes in silent laughter as well.

“Look,” Kara says, touches her glasses and licks her lips. She’s trying to keep a straight face on. “I’ll play with your hair everyday and give you lots of face kisses if you date me.”

“Well…” Setting the tablet down, Lena pretends to think about it.

Then, the balcony door opens and Alex shows up again, walking in. 

Lena shoots Alex a please help me look, but Alex pretends she doesn’t see it as she refills her glass of water. After that, she dashes out of the room so quickly she becomes a blur of red hair and black clothes.

Damn her.

Kara sees Lena’s face and pouts, taking her arms back. Lena whimpers, because the heaters aren’t on and it’s cold right now and Kara’s hands on her waist were keeping her warm, goddamnit.

Lena tries, and fails, to pull Kara’s arms back around her.

“Kara. Those arms, put them back where they came from—”

Kara does as told, and indulges her. “I have decided that this is the last time I’m going to cuddle you. I only cuddle people I date.”

“Lies.”

“It’s true.”

Lena breaks into a smile—or rather a smirk, really. “It’s not. Don’t threaten to deprive me of your warm hugs and cuddles.”

“Oh, Lena.” Kara sighs. “You see, I would pay so much more attention to you if you dated me. Your best friend who has abs. So, maybe date me?”

Lena considers it for a second, then wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Wha—” Kara stutters, offended. “I'll have you know I'm an excellent girlfriend. I'll bring you flowers and chocolate and give you nose kisses. You’re the perfect height to receive nose kisses from me.”

Lena only stares at her, the corners of her mouth twitching into something like a smile.

Then, someone laughs—loud.

They both look up to see Alex on the balcony with a ridiculous goofy smile on her face, phone next to her ear.

“Look at Alex. I want that. Did you know that Alex’s girlfriend takes her on a date every week, each Saturday, and has a special routine? Kelly gives Alex’s face ten kisses every night, all over her face. It’s relationship goals.”

Lena cracks a smile. “Gay.”

Kara nods solemnly. “Gay.”

“Women, huh, Kara.” Lena arches an eyebrow at her.

“Hush, Lena. I’m still coming to terms with it.”

Lena tilts her head, smiling amusedly. “Kara, you’ve been ‘coming to terms with it’ since… well, since you met me. I think you have it figured out by now.”

Kara shrugs. “I mean… I still don’t know for sure, Lena. See, I’ve never dated a woman before—”

“—What on earth are you talking about, you dated Lucy before she left National City—”

“—How do I truly know if I like women if I have never felt the warmth of a woman’s touch? I’ve walked my whole life confused, lost and scared, hidden from showing my true self to anyone—”

“—Kara, Eliza said “I know” when you came out to her—”

Kara sighs deeply, eyes wide. “How do I just know when I don’t even know how to hold a woman’s hand?”

Lena takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “And I thought I was the dramatic one. Darling, you astound me.”

Kara sighs, sad and dejected. “Lena, what was that quote about tiddies?”

“The what now?”

“From Sappho’s. I think it was something like ‘may you sleep on the breast of your delicate friend’? Yeah, it’s that. Oh to sleep on the breast of my delicate friend.” Kara cries. “That’s what I want, too.”

Lena falls down on Kara’s chest, laughter bubbling inside her chest and trying to squirm away. Kara doesn't let her, instead she just cackles along with her. Lena bites Kara on the neck, who doesn't even flinch, which, what the fuck—instead just shifts Lena back to sitting up and then dramatically sprawls out on her back even more.

“Date me, Lena,” Kara says. “Date me, date me, date me—”

“Kara.” Lena sighs, squeezing Kara’s hand. “I am not going to date you. You would spend more time at the gym than you would with me.” She pokes her abs.

“Oh, no.” Kara sniffs. “But you like and enjoy how strong I am. Don't think I don't notice how flustered you get when I pick you up or hold you in my arms.”

Lena looks faintly pink. “That's none of your business,” she says calmly. “I like muscles, you're not special.” Kara only just now notices Lena’s wrinkled sweater from the earlier actions, and starts smoothing them.

“You look nice. You look really good in my clothes.”

Lena sits still as Kara fixes her up, keeping a poker face even when Kara tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I look good in everything.”

“But my clothes are simply the best.” Then, Kara gasps. “Yet another reason you should date me.”

Lena sighs, shifting her weight around in Kara’s lap. It’s quiet for a bit, eyes on each other as they listen to Alex talking outside.

Kara takes the opportunity to cup Lena’s face. When Lena doesn’t move, just stays still in Kara’s lap, Kara gives Lena a kiss on the cheek.

Lena pulls back.

“Kara! What was that.” Lena raises an eyebrow, incredulous. Her hands slip under Kara’s shirt, palm on her abs.

“I'm trying to seduce you,” Kara says, trying to keep a straight face, and stops Lena’s wandering hands underneath her shirt.

“It isn't working.”

“Darn.”

Lena nods. “You need to work on your skill.”

“Yes, well… that's not exactly what the last person I had sex with said.”

Lena frowns. “Wait, what? When did you have sex with someone?”

“Hmm. Just yesterday, some woman from a friend’s birthday party. She was lovely. Pretty, too. Why, you jealous?”

Lena scoffs. “No,” she says. Kara pokes her cheek.

“Aw, jealous baby,” Kara coos. “How can you be jealous when you’re not even dating me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Lena insists. “I know what you taste like. I know how you are, and I’m very sure I’m not missing out on much.”

“Oh, really now.” Kara breathes a laugh. “I made you cry the last time we hooked up! You were begging so much—Kara, Kara, please! Kara please, want you to touch me, fuck me now, don’t stop, please, please—”

Lena lets out a strangled noise and quickly quiets Kara, squishing her palm against Kara’s mouth. After a moment, when Kara shows no sign of talking anymore, Lena hesitantly takes her hand off Kara’s mouth.

“So, it’s really a big no on dating me, huh.”

Lena pauses, biting her lip.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Amazing,” Kara whispers. “Lena, are we still pretending it wasn't you that I danced & flirted with at Kelly’s birthday party? I even guided you all the way back to your bed. It's been one whole day since you've last gotten—well, um. You know. Are you okay? How are you surviving?”

“I’m thriving.” Lena breathes out. “I’m living my best life. Been doing some soul searching, too. Finding myself.”

Kara wheezes.

“If you really want to date me,” Lena says, seriously, “you would make me some tea and let me do my work peacefully.”

Kara turns incredulous. “But Lena, I can't move.” She cries. “You’re in my lap, snuggled toasty warm against me and feeling me up. You get up!”

Lena slumps down until Kara’s back hits the couch and Lena’s lying completely on Kara. Kara immediately hugs her with her toned arms. 

“No,” Lena says. “I’m cold, warm me up.”

“Ice block human,” Kara whispers. “Date me.”

“No,” Lena says, groaning right into Kara’s ear. She tucks her face into Kara’s neck, her lips touching the skin there. “No, for the last time. I will not date you, Kara Danvers.”

“Golly—that’s not even my full name. How many times can you break a woman's heart today? Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

Lena only makes a muffled sound against her neck.

“No more straps. I’m never giving you some ever again,” Kara decides.

“But I like it when you use the strap. Why not?”

Kara scoffs. “I meant the sour straps. Lollies—my snacks in the cupboards. But since you brought that up, I mean that, too.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Lena pulls herself away, now sitting on Kara’s thighs.

“Dead serious. I’m cute, funny, and I have abs. And as you already know, my strap game is rather incredible. Ask yourself if you deserve the hot package.”

Lena sighs, looking like she’s really considering it. “Kara.”

“I’m a hot item.”

“Come on now, Kara…”

Kara sighs and turns her head to the side, dramatically.

Lena shakes her head. “This doesn’t need to be complicated.”

Kara frowns. “Oh, I see it now. All this time, the only reason why you like me is because of my strap game. I should have known.”

“Oh my god.”

Kara fake sniffs. “No matter, Lena. You’re my favourite person. I still love you, even knowing this.”

Lena mock slaps her on the shoulder, turning it into a gentle hand when it moves up on Kara’s cheek.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? And pretty, too,” Lena murmurs. Kara takes Lena’s hand off her cheek and presses a kiss to the palm, eyes never leaving Lena’s. Lena’s cheeks darken with colour.

“You’re prettier.”

Lena swallows. “Kara, I—”

“I can’t take this any longer.” Alex opens the door loudly and stomps her way inside. “Can you two stop fucking flirting for one goddamn minute?”

“Alex, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Lena states, blinking. “Kara, darling, could you please remove your hand from my boob?”

Kara gives Lena’s boob a soft squeeze, her other hand cupping bare skin from where she's slipped her hand underneath Lena's sweater.

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then.”

“Oh my god,” Alex says, covering her face with her hands. “I want to go home. I need to go—now. I got what I wanted a while ago.”

“Love you, Alex. You are more than welcome to,” Kara tells her. “You’ve been here in Lena’s penthouse long enough.”

“What—you talk as if you haven’t been here all day, too.” Lena frowns.

“It’s the weekend—no work, no other stuff. What’s wrong with spending my free time with my best friend?” Kara says, cupping Lena’s face lovingly.

Lena smiles. “You’re sweet.”

Alex stares at them, horrified. “Wow, it’s like… it’s like listening to highschoolers on a first date!”

“Um, but we aren't dating, Alex,” Kara reminds her sister gently.

“No, no, you're right, Kara. You aren't dating,” Alex agrees, and takes a deep, deep breath. “You're fucking married,” she hisses, wild-eyed. “I was the goddamn maid of honour at your wedding. You live here and you co-parent a cat with Lena. You've been married for like, three years now. Which makes your strange, awful flirting so much worse, Kara Danvers-Luthor!"

Kara and Lena only look at each other, snickering.

———

(not-so?) SURPRISE THEY’RE MARRIED

[reidisreading]

Sleep Deprivation - Spencer Reid x Reader

Writing Prompt: Spencer Reid is so sleep deprived he doesn’t notice his actions and accidentally crosses a line with reader. Reader ends up being abducted by unsub and Spencer has to make a choice towards his feelings to reader.

POV: Third Person POV but following certain characters.

Spencer Reid with they/them Reader

Type: angst with fluff at the end

warnings / trigger warnings: abduction, mentions of killing, subtle mentions of some sort of mental illness, reader gets hurt physically (punching, etc.), mild cursing.

*author note* Hi, this is my first story and I just wanted to get it out of my google drive page. I didn’t proofread this at all so there’s probably plenty of mistakes (if there is just tell me). I promise future stories will be a lot better than this. 

*word count: 4,100*

To the outside world, Spencer Reid was the perfect person in control of all aspects of his life. 

The problem with Spencer Reid was that he was too smart and active for his own safety. He struggled with sleep deprivation among other things that made it hard for him to keep track of himself. At this exact moment he was struggling with holding six hours of sleep in the last three days. He knows the dangers, he sees statistics, but when he closes his eyes all he can do is see Y/N in danger like in their last case and he can’t go through that. Not again, not when he was the one that found them all bloodied and almost unconscious. This was Spencer’s third cup of coffee in just that morning and the clock hadn’t turned to seven thirty, yet. He finished the last sip and rushed out the door to head to the subway, his hatred for driving now a good thing with his exhaustion getting in the way. A buzzing came from his satchel as he got on his seat, the subway less full than usual. SSA Hotchner Calling 

“Good morning.” Reid’s husky voice shone through the speaker. 

“Good morning, Reid, we have a new case in California, how far away are you?” Hotch said anxiously.  

“Twenty five minutes away, including the walk.” Reid says confidently. 

“Okay, head straight to the bullpen on your way in. We have no time to waste.” Hotch says before hanging up the phone. Reid finished reading the book he started that same morning and moved on to the second book he had stashed in his bag on his way out. 

“Platform-.” He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings as he got off the cart and walked towards his job. The smell of the station made his nose hurt as he remembered previous cases of ill intent people doing foul things to their surroundings. 

Get it together, Reid. You can’t walk in there distracted, they’ll know something is wrong. You can’t have Penelope and JJ worried all over you. You especially can’t have Y/N worried for you, you need to keep your head leveled around them. 

It was probably easy to guess that their last case had taken the hardest toll on Spencer. His feelings for Y/N making it difficult to concentrate when the unsub had taken them as a means to keep the FBI scared. Spencer had spent most of his time away in a small office hunched over papers and profiles trying to get them back. 

“Good morning, Doctor Reid.” The receptionist greeted the young doctor. 

“Good morning!” Spencer said in a matched tone. He walked to the elevator, hitting the familiar key without looking at it at all. 

Okay, you need to wake up and be alert. No dozing off like you’ve been doing today. You have a job to do, people are counting on you. Spencer repeated the same words to himself like a mantra until he saw the clear doors to the BAU main office. 

Penelope Garcia POV

We have a tablet for Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Emily, of course, Chocolate Thunder, and using paper we have Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. They would be so cute together, those two. I know I could find a way for Hotch to let them be together if only they would admit their feelings for each other, this is ridiculous. It’s very obvious to everyone but those two that they’re the perfect match made. Ironic how the two smartest people to enter this building are too oblivious to notice this. If I had a nickel for every time-

“How we looking, Baby Girl?” Morgan interrupted Garcia from her ramble. 

“Like I’d rather be watching something where someone doesn’t die.” She answered annoyed. 

“Don’t we all?” He shook his head as he took his tablet, scanning some of the images, the flash of hurt running through his facial features like a marathon. 

“Okay, we’re just waiting for Reid but he should be here any second.” Hotch says stressed while sitting down. The rest of the team, sans Reid, pile into the room taking their respective seats. Everyone opens their files on their tablets while Y/N scans through their paper folder. 

“Where is Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked looking directly at Y/N as if they would know anything; thankfully Y/N was too focused on the case in front of them to pay any attention. 

“Stop it.” Garcia whispered to him. Morgan looked at her and laughed while shaking his head. 

It’s safe to say that the entire team knew that those two were crushing on each other, they had that energy about them. 

Garcia got up from her seat, ready to direct the team along JJ on their latest case when the Boy Genius walked into the room in a hurry, his satchel already in his hands ready to be removed from his body. 

“I’m sorry, there was a minor mishap and- not important, sorry.” He said while moving towards his seat which was conveniently next to Y/N’s. He stopped next to them, giving them a light kiss on the head before moving to his seat, the small action causing everyone in the room to fall into a heavy silence. He didn’t seem to notice this small movement as he continued on with his regular routine of taking everything off to focus on the file in front of him. “What’s going on in California?” He asked looking up at Garcia, only to notice her stunned expression. “What?” He asked looking at the rest of the team, noticing their silence and awkward glances at each other. The only one not looking at anyone in particular was Y/N. 

“Nothing.” Garcia said while turning around to look at the slide show. 

“Family in California was brutally murdered in their home. Father was moved away from them, from the shows of it, it seems to have been postmortem.” Garcia says while looking at JJ frantically. 

“Two children were left in the closet- I’m sorry, I can’t do this. Reid, what was that?” Hotch asked while he asked JJ to pause the slideshow and turned to look at one of the two younger members of the team. 

“Hotch, no.” Garcia whispered. He’s going to ruin everything! No! We FINALLY have something that officially indicates one of them feels something. 

“I-I don’t understand?” Reid says confused. 

“Pretty Boy coming out of his shell.” Morgan chuckles. 

“What?” Reid asks, still confused. 

“You just kissed Y/N.” Emily says sliding closer to him. 

“I did what?” Reid asked with a raised tone. 

“Reid, what’s going on?” Rossi asks. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Reid said genuinely concerned.

“You look tired.” Emily said, “well, I mean, more than usual.” She says worried. 

“I mean, I haven’t really slept but it’s not that bad.” 

“How much is ‘not that bad’?” Hotch asks. 

“Six.” Reid whispered. 

“Six hours daily?” Hotch presses. 

“The last three days.” Reid finishes. 

“Reid, no.” Emily says sadly. 

“Can we get back to the case?” Reid asks, the entire room shifting energy. Y/N staying quiet as possible. It didn’t slip anyone’s notice that Y/N didn’t try to move from Reid, it was almost like they were shifting closer to him. 

“Okay, uhm, two children were left in the closet, their hands tied behind their back and their mouths covered with electrical tape. It seems like most of the extra things the unsub did were postmortem because the children were tied and silenced after this unsub killed them.” Garcia said. 

“The mom seems to have had the most anger targeted. She had leisure wounds around her neck and wrists, but that’s not what killed her. She was drowned in the bathtub, and it seems he may have stabbed her multiple times postmortem, too.” Y/N says as they go through their own file. 

“Maybe they had a bad relationship with a maternal figure and they’re looking for ways to get back at her.” Rossi says. 

“Any reason why the unsub may have targeted this family?” Hotch asks. 

“None that I’ve found yet, sir.” Garcia answers. 

“Okay, wheels up in thirty. Reid, I need to talk to you privately.” Hotch says as he dismisses the team. 

Arron Hotchner I will have a word with you.

Spencer Reid POV

“I need you to stay at the base for this one.” Hotch says automatically. 

“What? No, I can’t.” Reid replies. 

“Yes. What happened there is only a glimpse of what can happen in the future, Reid. I cannot take the risk with the rest of the team. You stay here, work the case, and rest up. Sleep deprivation can cause memory loss and you’re already seeing the side effect. I can’t put you or others in danger.” 

“Hotch, please.” Reid whispers. 

“Y/N will be okay, I promise Reid.” Hotch said sternly. 

“That’s not-.” Reid cut himself short. 

“Your job now is to stay here and look at everything we can’t. Come up with theories. I have to go.” Hotch starts to walk away, “and I want you to get home at a reasonable time to sleep. I need you in future cases.” He finishes, walking towards the last of his paperwork and walks out of the room. Reid looks around the room and spots Penelope at the door, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous. 

“Let’s go Pen.” Reid calls out to her and picks up his own file. 

“Reid, I don’t think Y/N-.”

“Pen, please.” Reid stops mid track, “I’m not allowed to go and I’m already exhausted as it is. Please, let’s just focus on this.” He says to her as he turns around and comes face to face with Y/N. “Hi.” He whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“Are you- is everything okay?” He hushes. 

“Yeah, I just came to say bye to you both. We’re on our way out.” Y/N replies looking at Reid like a fragile doll, if they moved too fast, he may break. 

“Be safe.” He says, almost so quiet they miss it. 

“Always am.” Y/N replied with a smile, “see you, Pen.” They waved at each other before Y/N finally walked away from them. 

“Oh you’re smitten to the T.” Penelope teased. 

“Penelope Garcia, there’s a room we need to get to and have no time to talk nonsense.” Reid said frustrated. 

“Oh, we can most definitely talk while we’re in there mister Doctor Genius.” She giggled walking away from him. 

“No, Penelope.” He says in a rushed tone as he jogs behind her. 

————————

“Hello my furry friends, what can I do ya for?” Penelope asked in an enthusiastic tone. 

“I need you to give me any and all financial statements about this family. Down to what they spent money on leisurely.” Hotch said not bothering to comment on her strange wording. 

“Anything I should be looking for?” She asked. 

“Yes, anything that may have been spent on from time to time. No cycle, something that if anyone looking wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.” Emily pipes in. 

“Reid?” Y/N called out, Reid’s cheeks automatically turning a bright red, he’s ears matching. 

“Yeah?” He asked in a high pitched tone before clearing his throat, calling out to them again, “how can I help?” He asked. 

“I found some letters and cards and they look like different people wrote them but I need you to read in between the lines and assign who wrote which letter.” Y/N said picking up the different notes and holding them to the camera, “I’m going to have JJ scan these and send them to Pen, if she could please do the rest so I can have a detailed explanation of the potential unsub.” They finished explaining. 

“Yeah, I’ll have them finished for you as soon as I can.” Reid said confidently. 

“Thanks Spence.” The team said their goodbyes. 

“Oh you’ve got it bad, Lover Boy.” Penelope said through giggles. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Reid said uncomfortably. 

“That Y/N called you ‘Spence’ and you just about melted.” She teased. 

“That’s not true.” 

“Oh come on! When are you going to just get it over with and ask them out?” Penelope asked in a serious tone. 

“Never, they don’t like me and I probably made them uncomfortable today with something I don’t even remember doing.” He fiddled with his pencil. 

“Have you asked them?” 

“No.”

“Then, you don’t know.” Penelope finished turning back to her computers seeing the files JJ sent, “Come on Boy Genius, your future significant other has work for you.” She said excitedly. 

—————————

“Reid, another family was murdered twenty minutes ago, do you have anything that could lead us?” Hotch stressed. 

“Yes, it seems all these families have in common is their religious beliefs and where they do grocery shopping.” He said going through his own paperwork. 

“Those are two completely different things.” Emily said. 

“No, because all three families come from the same neighborhood, down to the same economic standard. That means they all went to the same place of prayer and they all shop from the same places. It goes down to us having already interviewed the unsub.” Y/N says, paper shuffling is heard by Garcia and Reid as Y/N moves around the room with the rest of the team. 

“They’re right. We concluded that the unsub is a white male in their mid twenties who comes from a household deprived of a mother figure or a divorce household. From the way the murders are being done, it shows they have a previous criminal record with small crimes, maybe petty theft or something big like sexual assault.” Reid goes on. 

“In that case, we have only interviewed twenty people. Garcia, can you narrow down the list?” Hotch asked. 

“You must be new here.” She says with an eye roll. 

“Keep us updated.” Emily smiles. 

“Stay safe.” Reid says, everyone knowing he’s truly directing it to one person, “all of you, stay safe.” He covers up before hanging up. 

Jennifer Jareau’s POV

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ had wanted to speak with Y/N since they got out of the bullpen but for one reason or the other never got the chance. 

“Hey, JJ.” Y/N smiled at the blonde. 

“I know what Spencer did today was out of norm. Are you okay?” She asked. JJ knew neither of the Doctors were big on being touched unless they initiated it. 

“I’m okay.” The young Doctor assured her. 

“Can I ask you something?” JJ started, “I’m probably way out of line and you don’t have to answer but…” She started off testing the water, she kept an eye on Y/N making sure they weren’t uncomfortable at any moment, “do you like Spencer?” JJ finished. 

The words coming out of their mouth wasn’t what gave them away, it was the way their cheeks and neck flared up in red pigmentation as their hands dropped the small cup of coffee they were holding, which had thankfully been empty. 

“What? No, that’s- JJ, I do not like anyone.” Y/N stammered and failed to control their movements. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to have asked you instead of Penelope.” JJ started laughing. 

“I do not like… JJ it is wrong to make assumptions of others. It’s- JJ, no.” Y/N continued. 

“Babe, it’s okay. Everyone and their mom’s can see that you and Spencer have a thing. For being the two smartest people I know… you’re both very daft.” JJ said sweetly. 

“I actually don’t think he likes me, JJ. I noticed that his behavior towards me changed into a more protective one after we finished the case. I think he’s guilty because he was meant to stay with me and we got separated.” Y/N said sadly. 

“You cannot possibly be serious.” JJ questioned. 

“I am.” Y/N retorted. 

“That man is in love with you.” 

“No.” Y/N said as they picked up the empty cup they’d previously dropped. “Anyway, we need to finish this before anyone else dies.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Hotch is waiting.” Y/N left the small room. 

When JJ walked outside, the rest of the team was doing a video call with Garcia and Reid. Y/N was busy looking through a stack of papers while Garcia gave more information about the possible unsub. 

“Hey Y/N?” Spencer spoke up once Garcia finished.

“I’m here.” Y/N left the stack of papers next to them as they paid close attention to Reid. 

Reid cleared his throat twice before he started detailing the information he’d found, “it seems like three people wrote those letters. It wasn’t easy to figure out because the same person switched through hand writings quite easily. So, unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t have seen it.” Reid finished while holding up the letters now filled with side notes. 

“Thanks, Spence.” Y/N smiled at him before picking up the stacks, “that actually narrows down the unsub to four different people.” They picked up a folder one by one and handed it off to others. 

“Garcia, tell us anything on Tony Carter.” Hotch asks. 

While Garcia was telling them all the smallest details she could find to Tony Carter, Spencer and Y/N both went over the notes again. 

“It’s Jared Tall.” They said in unison. 

“Babies, you can’t just bring out the genius in the middle of my genius.” Garcia said annoyed. 

“How do you know?” Hotch asks the both of them. 

“The notes.” Spencer said like it was obvious. 

“It did catch me off guard how this one was written, but it says Jared Tall.” Y/N said like it was no big deal as they pointed at the small details that brought out the name Jared Tall. 

Y/N’s POV

“Hotch, I’m by the south exit. There’s fresh tracks. I think he’s here.” Y/N told their supervisor. 

“Don’t go in without backup. He’s incredibly dangerous and will take out anyone in his place.” Hotch directed. 

“Copy.” Y/N finished replying when they felt a sharp pain come across their temple making them crash against the ground. The cold surrounded them as did darkness. 

Morgan’s POV

“Morgan, I need you to go to the south exit with Y/L/N. They said there’s fresh tracks and that’s dangerous.” Hotch directed. Morgan didn’t answer and just moved to the exit his supervisor had appointed him to. 

“Hotch, Y/L/N isn’t here.” Morgan said through the radio. 

“What?” Hotch asked. Derek didn’t need the radio to hear his directions towards the rest of the team. 

“Their radio is here, Hotch.” Morgan turned around to face him. 

“They couldn’t have gone too far. I gave them directions two minutes ago.” Hotch said while looking around. He turned his radio on and directed everyone to meet at the front of the abandoned cabin. “I need everyone in a group of three. Dogs need to go with you. Y/L/N has intensive knowledge on how to get out of hostage situations but there’s blood on the floor and they may be unconscious now. There’s a likelihood that the unsub took Y/L/N to the same location he has the rest of his victims, if that’s the case he’ll have two children. You need to be extremely careful and vigilant. We have until sundown.” Hotch dismissed everyone Morgan staying behind with him as Hotch called Garcia. 

“Genie in a lap. You have three wishes.” Garcia said in her usual chirpy voice. 

“Is Reid with you?” Hotch asked. 

“No. He went out to get us lunch.” Garcia said as the blood ran cold through her veins, “sir, please don’t tell me that I have to tell Boy Wonder that the person he’s in love with and he doesn’t even realize loves him back, has been kidnapped again.”

“Y/L/N what?” Hotch and Morgan could hear Reid from the other end of the line. 

“He knows.” Garcia whispered on the line. 

“Reid, I’ve got every agent and officer looking for them. They’ll be okay.” Hotch promised. 

“I’ve heard that before.” Reid said darkly. 

“I’ll call with any updates.” Hotch hung up. 

Y/N POV

I’ve got a concussion for sure. Okay, and one broken rib. I can’t open my eyes or move, definitely blindfolded and hands are tied. Probably underground. By the voices near me there’s two children here as well.  

“The fucking FBI. Fuck.” There was pacing around the room. Only one set of feet were moving around. “If you scream, I kill them.” The unsub said. Not knowing what to do, Y/L/N just nodded. “This wouldn’t have happened if that bitch had just ran away with me.” He continues. 

“Who, Jared?” Y/N asked calmly. 

“Patty!” Jared shouted. “She had to stay with her stupid perfect family. What about me?” He kept shouting uncontrollably. 

“This isn’t your fault Jared. She didn’t deserve you.” 

“You’re right. She had to pay.” Jared kept pacing. 

“Jared, I need you to do me a favour.” Y/N approached. “You need to let the children go. They’re innocent in all of this, just as much as you are.” The added in the end. 

“They’re right, Jared. The children are innocent.” Y/N heard Morgan say evenly. “They’re just as innocent as you. They’d never hurt anyone, just like you.” Morgan approached. Y/L/N could now hear him walking near them. Something must have happened in the ten seconds that there was complete silence, because all Y/N heard after that were three gunshots and suddenly they were being untied. “It’s Morgan, you’re okay, Y/N.” Morgan whispers to them. 

“The children.” Y/N whispers. 

“JJ’s got them.” Morgan replies. 

“I’ve got a broken rib.” Y/N tells him. 

“Anything else?” Morgan asks as he lifts them from the entrance. 

“Nothing I can feel as of now.” They reply surely, “Morgan, Reid is-.”

“He knows you were taken. He’s not happy at the moment.” Morgan replies. 

“Where’s Hotch?” 

“We found another child near here and he’s been assisting on that.” 

“This wasn’t his fault. None of us could have known.” They tell Morgan. 

“Tell that to your lover boy. He’s pissed.” Morgan laughs as he sets them on the bed of the ambulance. 

“He’s not my-.” Y/N starts saying before getting interrupted. 

“He’s in love with you. That makes him Lover Boy.”

Morgan teases. 

“I cannot wait for you to no longer be single.” Y/N teases him. 

“Right back at ya, Pretty Face.” Morgan flicks his finger against their chin and walks away; allowing the first responder to assess their wounds. 

Y/N had to get checked at the local hospital, the rib that had fractured was making it painful for them to breathe and couldn’t wait to get checked in Quantico. 

To say the ride back was long and uncomfortable was an understatement. They’d spend two extra days in California and that was two days too long. 

“You get to see your mans today.” Morgan teased. 

“Hotch, Morgan is being annoying.” Y/N said loudly. 

“Did you just tattle on me?” Morgan asked in mocked surprise. 

“And I’ll do it again.” Y/N said confidently. 

“Behave or I’ll ground you both.” JJ said sternly. Once the jet landed, all their teasing suddenly vanished. Garcia and Spencer were waiting for them at the entrance of the BAU floor. No one said anything as they all hugged each other, Y/N keeping their distance from the team as Spencer gave the rest of the team a small half hug trying not to be rude as his family came in contact with his arms. The all unsubtly excused themselves, giving Spencer and Y/N some privacy. 

Something changed inside Spencer when he found out that Y/N had been abducted. Something shifted, it was like he finally understood he could no longer pretend and show a façade every time he was around them. 

Gravity was working differently now, or maybe it was their legs, neither of them were sure which it was. They crossed the small space between them as Y/N crashed against Spencer’s arms; the world just that much lighter now that neither of them were holding anything in. Spencer held them so tightly he was sure he was going to turn them into dust. 

“Wait, your rib-.” Spencer started. 

“Shh.” Y/N pulled away further from him as they grabbed him by his sweater vest and their lips finally met. 

There was cheering in the near distance but they both pretended they didn’t know what was going on behind them. 

Spencer pulled away for a second causing Y/N to give him a slight pout, “go on a date with me?” Spencer finally asked. 

“Only if you go back to kissing me.” Y/N replied, Spencer attaching their lips together before Y/N could even finish the sentence. 

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Crosshair - Night Terror

Summary: Erys, a medic assigned to the Bad Batch, had to deal with a sleep deprived Batcher. (Happens Pre Order 66, so no Omega here, and no Echo either yet)

Pairing: None (none…yet)

Reader description: Human medic, f!reader [she/her], no real physical description

Word Count: 2724 words

CW/ TW: Angst; Nightmares/ night terror, sort of injury, pain; Fluff too because I’m a softie tonight

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @ladykatakuri (I don't know why it won't tag you correctly so sorry about that ;; )

@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s this one I dedicate to you my soft Moony 🌙

As usual, if you want to get tagged/removed, tell me so!

Notes: I’m sorry Crosshair, I know I make you suffer (a bit) but it’s for the p e o p l e

Also due to personal reasons (aka, I need it to be this way), the Marauder has a closed room with bunk beds (4) in it

Lately the nights were short and agitated for the Batchers, and even after all this time in the company of clones, Erys couldn’t get used to it. Their last mission had been quite difficult for them; Tech had been injured and they almost lost the information they were supposed to get.

They couldn’t get back to Kamino yet; they had to safely transport the information to the Senate. Usually she would have been in the cockpit, observing the blue and white strings of hyperspace wrapping the ship, but Hunter and Wrecker had fallen asleep in their seats and she didn’t wanted the door to wake them up. So she stayed in the room, peacefully reading a book on her datapad. Tech had left some time ago and didn’t came back yet, but she didn’t worry much about it. He was trying remain active as a way to distract himself from the pain. His arm had been shot, and he needed a full recovery on Kamino; but for now he had to do with bacta patches only.

As for Crosshair…well, he was one of the reason she remained in the room. She noticed how much he struggled to sleep lately; being a light sleeper didn’t help his situation, and he would spent most of the time simply laying on his bed and staring at the wall or the roof, chewing toothpick after toothpick. Erys couldn’t do much about that, but she didn’t wanted him to feel lonely during these moments.

He wasn’t much of a talker, so she never forced the conversation with him. She would just tell him “I’m here” before settling on a bed, and would find a way to get occupied. Sometimes he would come down to sit next to her and watch her write a report, or fill a medical file about one of them.

Today was one of those days. She was working on Tech’s file, describing his wound shot, the number of bacta patches he had since he got injured, the evolution of the burn and the healing of the tissues.

She felt a small bump on her shoulder. She used the reflection on her datapad to confirm her intuition, careful about her movements. Crosshair had fallen asleep.

Finally, she thought to herself. He deserved some rest. She knew how Tech getting injured was eating him alive; he couldn’t prevent it yet convinced himself it was his fault.

“Crosshair, you couldn’t tell there was another sniper. It happens, that’s part of going on a mission, and that’s why I’m here.”

“I should have guessed; but you can’t understand, you’re just a medic.”

She knew he didn’t mean to hurt, and she wasn’t mad at him. She’d rather have him talking mean to her than bottling everything up. Later, he had asked her if Tech needed to change his bacta patch.

“Yes he can change it now.”

“Where is it?”

She had pointed to her bag, telling him to take the white-wrapped one. He nodded, his voice a bit softer than usual when he thanked her before leaving the room. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he was a man of action, both on and off the battlefield. If anyone wanted to know how Crosshair felt, they would have to look at his behaviour more than listen to his words.

She still couldn’t believe how quickly he fell asleep; against her shoulder on top of that.

He is sleep deprived, of course he was quick to fall asleep. But he should lay down, he’s going to get cramps if he doesn’t lay down.

She thought about it for a moment. Eventually, her arm would feel numb and she would have to move too; but was it worth taking the risk of waking him up? She decided it was better for her to wait. He had to get some rest. She carefully took his toothpick out of his mouth so he wouldn’t hurt himself with it, and focused back on her datapad and the notes she had taken.

.

“Crosshair, sniper!”

He laid flatter on his stomach, eye aligned with the scope of his rifle, scanning the houses a few clicks away, until he spotted it.

“Got you.”

He shot straight, watching as the body jolted under the impact, falling to his side.

“Tech’s down, we need to get out of here!”

He pretended he couldn’t hear the worry in Hunter’s voice, he tried to push away the idea of his brother being hurt, because they had a job to do, and the sooner it would be done, the sooner they could get away from here.

“Bring them out for me.” He told them, eagerly waiting on the bodies to move in his field of vision. He counted in his head to keep his breath regular; now was not the time to get distracted, or nervous.

One, two, three; aim and shoot. Four, five…Wait. Wait…Shoot.

One by one, the bodies were dropping on the ground, and none of them could tell what hit them. When he saw Wrecker coming out of the base, a thumb in the air, he slightly turned his rifle to see were was Tech. Hunter was blocking his vision, but he could still guess the shape of his brother, and the blown out part of his armour. Wrecker joined them and helped Tech get on his feet to get away from there.

“Crosshair, let’s go!”

He jumped on his feet. But something didn’t add up.

“Are you sure they’re all down?”

“Doesn’t matter, Wrecker’s gonna blow it up. We’ll come and get you, so be ready!”

He could see their small silhouettes running toward the Marauder. They barely had time to get in before the base exploded. The wave got to him and pushed him back, making him trip and fall. It took him a second to register the pain, another to roll to his side and try to grab his rifle. A third one to realise there was no rifle anymore.

“Looking for that?”

“Give it back.” He pushed on his hands and knees to get up, staring at the helmeted person standing there, his rifle loosely held in one hand.

“I don’t want it,” they threw it away, “I’m here for you.”

“Go away.”

He kept staring at them, trying to guess their next move, counting the time he had left before the Marauder would come to get him. He had to get his rifle back.

“That’s not a good idea,” they simply said.

But he couldn’t care less about what they thought was a good idea or not. He reached for his blaster, aiming straight between their helmet and the upper part of their chest armour.

“Get back to sleep.”

He tried to shoot, but nothing came out of the blaster.

“Why is it not…”he threw it on the ground, heart clenching in his chest. He felt his hands shaking, and caught himself thinking about being unable to use his guns, standing all alone on a cliff with a masked stranger, waiting on back-up that was still not here; and Tech being inured because he didn’t see that kriffing sniper ambushed right in front of his own hiding spot, and the noise that explosion made, and why didn’t they came for him yet?!

“Crosshair-”

“Shut up!” he snapped, getting dangerously closer to the stranger. His face was covered by his helmet, but the rage, the fear, the guilt; all of it was still clearly discernable in his voice. He grabbed the hand that was coming toward him, bluntly twisting it, forcing whoever it was down on their knees, begging.

“Crosshair, let go now!”

“I told you to go away,” he tightened his grip on their arm, “so why are you still here, why?!”

He could hear the muffled whine coming from under the helmet, and held still even if they were trying to break free. He pushed further on their arm, forcing it open.

“You’re…you’re gonna break it Crosshair…Let go, please…”

.

It felt too brutal. Waking up above her, her arm twisted under his fingers, her skin marked by his too tight grip. He didn’t know how, but he made sure she couldn’t get away. She was trying so hard not to be afraid; he could tell, but he was still scaring her.

He was still hurting someone.

“I- I’m…,” he let go of her, as he realised what just happened. His hands were still shaking, and his breath was way shorter and faster than usual. He straightened on the mattress, backing up as much as he could, until he could feel the cold metallic all against his back. She barely rubbed her arm before turning around, trying to comfort him.

“It’s okay, it happens. I’m fine, Crosshair, I promise you I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I- what was that…“ he stuttered, hands close to his chest.

“You had a night terror, it happens, okay?”

She didn’t try to reach him, not physically. She knew it would only make things worse.

“Look, I’ll go get you something to drink and eat, and you can stay there until I come back. Or go to the refresher if you need to,” she gently told him, calmly getting up of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

She turned around one last time before getting out of the room, but he couldn’t even look at her in the eyes.

First Tech, now her.

She went to the food supplies, grabbed a few bars for Crosshair, as well as a small bottle of blue milk. She almost congratulated herself for not making any noise, but quickly lost that enthusiasm when she crossed path with a still half-asleep Hunter.

“Hey there,” she smiled, holding the supplies close to her arm to hide the bruises.

“What’ you doing with that?” he muttered, lazily stretching his hands.

“I’ve been working on files for hours and forgot to eat, so I’m catching up.”

“Right.”

He looked down at the supplies in her arm for a moment, met her eyes again, silently asking a question she would never answer to.

“Well, I gotta go, lot of work waiting for me.” She said, already heading back to the room.

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

She lost her confident mask the second the door closed behind her. She didn’t wanted Hunter to get involved, Crosshair was already feeling bad enough. Speaking of which…

“Crosshair? I brought you some food.”

She guessed he was in the refresher, because she couldn’t find him in his bed. She sat down, spreading the supplies on the mattress, then taking a closer look to her bruises. Sure, it hurt, but it could have been way worse. She knew clones were more prone to have night terrors; it wasn’t the first time she witnessed one. The incoherent babbling, the fear, the aggressive tone and actions, the blank stares; she recognised it straight away. It didn’t help that he was sleeping against her; it would have been easier to turn off the light and try to create a calmer atmosphere for him if he had been lying on the bed.

She let herself fall back against the mattress, focusing on the pulses running through her arm. A door slid, and she thought it would be Hunter checking on her, but instead it was Crosshair who came to sit next to her, a wet towel and bacta patches in hand.

She softly sighed, straightening once again to lean against the wall.

“Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head from left to right. All he could possibly remember was that overwhelming fear, and the pressure on her wrist.

“Look, I’m not mad, and I know you didn’t do it on purpose. You’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and the pressure you put on yourself didn’t help. Those things happen, that’s why I’m here.”

He didn’t say anything, but looked down at the blue marks he left on her skin.

“You’re not the only one who get battle scars, sometimes.” She tried to joke, a light smile on her face.

He turned more to face her, bending one of his leg and wedging it under his knee. He then gently seized her hand, bringing it closer to him, softly pressing the wet towel against her wrist. She shivered to the cold contact, but didn’t back off. He proceeded to gently wipe her arm, careful in each movement as to not hurt her.

He spent a few minutes on it, barely pressing against her skin, trying to mostly cool the bruises down a bit before he could get to the next part. When he estimated it was enough, he put the towel away and grabbed a white packet. His hands were not as steady as usual, and he struggled when trying to open it.

“I can help-“

“It fine,” he stopped her, then whispered in a softer tone, “I can do it.”

She didn’t try to interfere anymore, but instead watched him get irritated with the package, taking it to his teeth to rip the corner off. He then peeled the bacta patch off, holding it with the tip of his fingers above her arm.

“Could you…,” she tensed her muscles a bit and got closer, “yes.”

He quickly estimated where he should put the patch, slightly sticking out his tongue as he applied it on the bruises. He gently massaged it to make sure it was sticking correctly, and also out of guilt for being the cause of this injury.

“I should have guessed there was another sniper. It’s my job, and I failed. And Tech got hurt.”

His voice was but barely a murmur, filled with shame and regret. He couldn’t lift his eyes off of the bacta patch, afraid of what he may see in hers if he did.

“How long until he fully recovers?” he then asked her.

“Probably two weeks, maybe less if he gets his treatment on Kamino and if he keeps moving around the way he does. And we both know he will.”

“Yeah,” she managed to rip a subtle smile from him, “he will.”

“You know, you could be a medic too. You got the skills and the soft touch.”

She looked at his hand still on the dressing, quite satisfied with his work. He shook his head to brush that comment off, but deep down it soothed him a bit. He turned around to grab the blue milk and throw the bars between them.

“Well, if I was a medic I’d tell you to eat. So…eat.”

She held a chuckle back, a silly grin on her face, and picked one of the bar from the pile of supplies, unwrapping it before taking a bite.

“Mmh, if you need help to open that…”she pointed at the bottle of blue milk, trying so hard not to laugh. He rolled his eyes at her, but when he tried to open it and it didn’t work, she lost it, bursting into laughter. He couldn’t hold a grin back when he handed it to her.

“Don’t mock- you know what? You earned that right for tonight. Thank you,” he said as she gave it back to him, uncapped.

“You must admit, that was funny!”

“Anything is funny with you, you’re a good audience.”

“That’s true. But it was still very funny.”

He looked at her, a soft smile on his face, and for a short instant, forgot about the façade, and the pain; nothing mattered but the way she was laughing because of him, and the way she was staring into his eyes and-

“Sorry.”

He broke the eye contact, leaning against the wall and trying to look relaxed. He couldn’t tell, but she felt like, overall, this personal time between them was a win. Both on a professional, and a personal scale.

He drank a long sip from the bottle, offered it to her out of courtesy. For the first time in a few days, he felt tired. Enough to get a good night of sleep, at least. So he let himself fall backward, head hitting straight into the soft pillow as he closed his eyes.

“Sleep well.” she whispered to him.

And even though he didn’t answer, did not worded it, he still found a way to let her know, through a heartfelt smile.

I will now.

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.  

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”  

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”  

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.  

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”  

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.  

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.  

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”  

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”  

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.  

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”  

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”  

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”  

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”  

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.  

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”    

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”  

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”  

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.  

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.  

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.  

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.  

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.  

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.  

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.  

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.  

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.  

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.  

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”  

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”  

“What happened?”  

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”  

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.  

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.  

“Jungkook-oppa?”  

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”  

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.  

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-  

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.  

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”  

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.  

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.  

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”  

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?  

“It’s the subdural space.”  

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.  

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.  

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.  

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.  

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.  

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”  

“Are you sure?” she retorts.  

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?  

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.  

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”  

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.  

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”  

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”  

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.  

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.  

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.  

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”  

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His  scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”  

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”  

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit. 

© joontier 2021

[sxfik]

and when the seasons change (will you stand by me?)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

summary: when kang sol's mother has to work late, she has to take care of byeol. it's just her luck that she has an exam the next day, one for professor yang of all people. joon hwi, being the kind classmate he is, offers to study with her.

or: byeol is solhwi mastermind, and she's says everything we wanted to say to the two dummies.

request by anon: hiya! saw that you do solhwi prompts so I was thinking that Sol A has to babysit byeol but there's a big test the next day so she calls joon hwi over to help her w studying. meanwhile byeol(being iconic) tries to set them up in true shipper fashion.

a/n: this is based on a request i got on tumblr, pictured above! i have around 5 (ish) fics that will go out over the week so stay tuned for those lmao! uh yeah, i don't really know what else to say other than im really sad law school ended so i've just been sad and mopey, but still writing to fill that hole. as always, enjoy <333

Although Joon Hwi was the 'star' student of Hankuk Law School, he was never much for studying. It's not because everything came to him that easily, but because finding the strength to concentrate and study when he could be hanging out with his friends or doing anything better with his time was insanely tempting. Finding the effort to get to the library, and read up on his textbooks was arduous and he always found it easier to study by himself, no distractions around. This was, of course, until Kang Sol came along. For Joon Hwi, everything in his life was turned on its axis when she came into his life.

When he first met her, in Professor Yang's class, she was just the poor girl being grilled by the professor. His heart went out to her, watching her pull her hair out of the bun to avoid the question. He didn’t know what possessed him to answer for her, but he assumed it to be a one time thing. But from the moment she crashed into him yelling "Second Round Judicial Exam, save me!", he was stuck on her.

Slowly, she was everywhere in his life, from the study group to the legal clinic to a majority of his classes. Unlike so many of his classmates, who were by the book and generally clinical in personality, she was a fireball of energy and passion. In class, despite not being the best student, she would argue with so much passion and energy that it was impossible to win against her. It was fascinating, watching her connect and jump from case to case. She would throw herself into everything she believed in, which included defending him from the school and his uncle.

Joon Hwi has liked girls before, but he's never been so captivated and head-over-heels for anyone in his life. Love and dating seemed secondary, and he preferred to keep it out of his life until he reached his goals. You could call him selfish but he prefers to call it being focused on his goals. He's always had one goal in life, and it was to work with the law, whether as a judge or working as police or as a prosecutor.

Yet, if Kang Sol was in the room, his eyes were on her. Whether she was frustrated at him or teasing him or gleeful with him, he couldn't help but smile at her. If she was around, he was right by her side, making her laugh or cringe or annoyed.

So there he was, studying in the school library with Kang Sol. Professor Yang’s exam was right around the corner and unlike last time, he cannot miss the comma in the given case. Plus, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being accused of a murder this time, so both Sol and Joon Hwi were hunched over their books, pouring into the texts when Kang Sol’s phone blared loudly from her bag, startling them both.

Sol cringed as she dug around in her cloth bag, the classic dirty looks tossed her way by the sleep deprived students as she stood to leave the library and take the call. He buried himself back into the textbook, but the concentration was lost and he was more interested in the call she’d gotten than ins and outs of defamation laws.

Around 10 minutes later, Sol was speeding back to her chair, the phone clutched firmly in her hand. But Joon hwi could see her frustration from a mile away. Her face held that pout, her eyebrows furrowed and grumbling under her breath. It was adorable.

But he was worried, considering it was the day before the exam, Sol couldn’t afford to be distracted from her studies. He wasn’t blind to her struggles in school, but Joon Hwi never considered her lesser than him for not being able to pick up the concepts with speed.

Unlike him, and a majority of his classmates, she had passion and a heart when dealing with clients. He could see it in her mannerisms with clients in the legal clinic, patiently explaining the clause or the issues they might face to the client. She’s sympathetic to the max, always hearing out the client’s grievances before making a judgement on what they had done. She was exactly what the world needed: a sympathetic, patient lawyer that was willing to fight for the client, someone that they can cling to. He and every professor in the school knew it, but it seemed Sol was the only one who never realized how essential she was.

Suddenly, he felt himself getting up to gather his materials with her without a second thought, despite the confused look Sol shot him. He wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him to do it, but he knew that if she wasn’t there, he didn’t want to study at the library either. Grinning at her, he walked out, side by side until they were outside the quiet library. She paused in her tracks all of a sudden, taking him by surprise and he paused too, looking back at her, tilting his head in confusion.

"My mom needs to work late today, so I need to rush home and take care of Byeol," she looked up at him finally, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Joon hwi but I don't think I'll be able to study for the exam with you," she started to walk away, but he couldn't let her go that easily.

"I'll come with you," he offered, surprising himself, "I'll study with you. Plus, it'll be easier to take care of Byeol with two people than one, right?"

She paused, looking back at him, conflicted. Sighing, Joon Hwi stepped closer to her. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting. Shall we?" He was determined to keep her company, especially since she’d have less time to study since she’d have to take care of Byeol. It was easier this way, and I’d do this for any friend he told himself.

The ride there was slow and quiet, but not an uncomfortable one. They both walked in tandem, with their backpacks filled with everything they'd possibly need to study, and even the bus ride was peaceful, the two of them staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by them. Joon hwi sat beside her, rather than across from her like last time, just to save space on the bus. On the very empty bus they were riding together.

Days like this, where the air was heavy and humid, the earth preparing for a heavy rain, were the most comforting types of days. The air was still warm and humid, making Sol’s hair poof out slightly, her naturally wavy hair frizzing out of her bun. The feeling of her beside him, as if this was a regular ritual for both of them, brought a sense of content in his heart. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, whether it was the girl beside him or the past year’s chaos, but watching the trees and the traffic pass by them brought more peace to his life than ever.

The two made their way into the alleyway, where Joon hwi had once stood guard of when Lee Man Ho once lived, threatening her family. He's standing in front of Kang Sol's house behind her, holding her backpack in hand as she struggles with the keys.

Finally, finally, she gets the door open, and a figure zips by, crashing into Sol. Byeol’s arms wrapped Sol's waist, like the adorable sister she is. Sol stumbled back into him slightly at the sudden weight thrown onto her, but nonetheless, crouched to envelop her sister in a bone-crushing hug. Joon hwi couldn’t help but smile at the two sisters, their love for each other enveloping him

"Unnie!" she grinned up at her, "Did you bring him with you?" Her eyes were serious and wide as Sol opened her mouth to answer.

"Byeol-ah!" Joon hwi yelled out from behind Sol, peaking out to see the 8-year old grinning at him, much wider than she did at Sol. Ha!

"Joonhwi-oppa!" the girl squealed out, leaving Sol's grip to run to him. As she ran to him, he picked her up and twirled her in the air, the girl's giggles echoing through the small alleyway as the two greeted each other.

Sol, standing by the door, smiled faintly before calling out, "Come in, before either of you catch a cold!" Both of them filed in, incessantly chattering as if they hadn't seen each other in months, even though it had only been two weeks since Joon hwi had been by to take the two sisters out to the park.

"Oppa! Why did you come with Unnie?" Byeol asked, finally being set down inside the house, looking up at him curiously as Sol

"Ah, we have an exam tomorrow, so I'm here to study with her," Joon hwi replied.

"Good," the girl jumped onto the couch. "Unnie needs a lot of help," the girl quipped back, nodding her head solemnly, making her look a lot older than 8 years.

"Yah Kang Byeol!" Sol exclaimed, indignantly. Joon hwi chuckled at the two as Sol turned to him. "Here, we can work in the dining room," she moved to grab her backpack from him, stepping towards the dining room.

"NO!" Byeol yelled out at the both of them, her hand flying out to stop the two of them, "Unnie, you should work in your room instead! You know I'll be watching TV and obviously, it'd be too loud for you to focus," the girl rushed out, her doe-eyes a bit too wide, her voice a little too innocent. She is definitely plotting something, Joon hwi narrowed his eyes at her but she avoided the look, choosing to jump off the couch and walk towards them instead.

Before either of them could protest, the girl pushed the both of them towards, presumably, Kang Sol's bedroom. Sol awkwardly laughed at him, Joon hwi shooting her an amused look. They awkwardly stood in her room, Joon hwi avoiding her gaze and choosing to look at the walls instead. Her room here looked similar to the one she had back on campus. Her desk was stacked to the max, sticky notes lining the walls with old reminders and little notes of encouragement. It was neat, but brightly colored, which suited Sol so very well.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Sol finally said, clearing her throat, gesturing for him to set down his books. He obliged, sitting at her desk while she chose her bed. They both set up all their materials, the awkward silence shifting into a peaceful one, the two working themselves into a comfortable rhythm.

It had been almost an hour of straight studying, both of them regurgitating criminal codes and case precedents from memory. Joon hwi was sure that by this point that his mind was complete mush, and Sol was starting to wither, her eyes almost glazed over while she started into one of her casefiles. Her hair was a lot puffier than it was when they started. Turns out, Sol had a habit of ruffling her hair with her pencil each time she was confused or working herself too hard, which was often.

“Let’s take a break shall we? I’m going to get a glass of water,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms out, trying to put the two out of their misery. He yawned, the stiffness in his muscles finally noticeable when he stretched out. She nodded back to him, yawning and stretching out in her chair, before she picked up her phone to check some messages.

He walked out of her room and back to the living room, where byeol was still glued to her seat, her eyes on the TV playing some cartoon. Heading over to the dining table, he poured himself a glass of water with the pitcher, before heading back to check on Byeol.

“What’s this show called?” he asked her, taking a sip of the water while watching the show with her.

“Hm?” Byeol turned to him, “Oh, it’s this show about two kids who set out to find a treasure mapped out by their parents,” she explained, gesturing towards him to take a seat beside him. He obliged, opting to sit beside the girl, both their eyes glued to the screen. A few moments passed by, before the little girl turned towards him.

“You know, my sister’s favorite color is dark green. Not like emerald green, but forest green tinted with some dark blue,” Byeol said nonchalantly. Joon Hwi’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why the girl is telling this to him. “And, her favorite ice cream is this nutella infused one that you get down the street, closer to the town square. It’s been her favorite since she was little,” she continued, not giving his confusion any heed. The girl rapidly started telling him facts about her dear sister, all the while confusion took over his features.

“Joonhwi-oppa,” she squinted at him, pausing as her face grew serious, “You like my sister, don’t you?” He sputtered, choking and coughing out the water. “I knew it!” she excitedly squealed.

“Byeol, byeol, shh, you can’t let your sister know okay,” he brought a finger to his lips, his eyes alarmed. For an 8 year old, Byeol was surprisingly cunning and observant. She had managed to figure out what he had been struggling with for the past year after just a few short visits. They shared a look of understanding between the two, before the girl turned her attention to the show, leaving Joon Hwi walking back to Sol’s room. The Kang Sisters,  he shook his head, laughing as he thought, what a perfect duo.

bonus

It had been almost 3 hours of studying together before Kang Sol realized that the sun had set outside, and all of a sudden, they were in a rush to clean up. Joon hwi had to leave before the dorms closed entrance and because of their studying, the two of them had their head buried in books since the time they got to her house.

She was glad to have him over though. Despite her hesitation at the school and fears of inconveniencing him, having Joon hwi made the process a lot smoother. With his careful and gentle help, she had a much easier time understanding the concepts and she was eternally grateful, considering Professor Yang’s exams were always some of the toughest.

They were rushing out of the house, his backpack in her hand as he hurriedly put on his shoes and stepped outside the house. But before Joon hwi could turn with a hurried goodbye, she called out to him, her breath suddenly lodged in her throat.

“Thank you,” she quietly told him, the prospect of looking into his eyes as he leaned over her doorstep daunting. “Thank you for helping me, Joon hwi, it was really kind of you,” she beamed at him, trying to convey her gratitude and more in the only way she knew possible.

They both paused, looking at each other as the air got thicker between them, as if a string was drawing him closer to her. She watched as he swallowed slightly, his adam’s apple moving slightly before he let out a soft “You’re welcome,” and a classic smile, before he rushed out, trying to catch his bus.

She sighed, watching him as he rushed off, capturing the bus. Soon, she thought, Soon, I’ll tell him how I feel. She reassured herself, turning around only to find Byeol hiding behind a pillar.

“Byeol? What are you doing, weren’t you watching a show?” she questioned her sister, but Byeol made no response. Suddenly her sister frowned at her, muttering something about how can she possibly be a lawyer and she’s so blind, leaving her in utter confusion at the front steps.

[cuddlepilefics]

can you do a skz one where Chan is working hard for a comeback, doing a lot of writing, producing, ect. but then he gets a cold, (snz centered) but he refuses to take a break, so Felix has to force him to take a break. With lots of Chanlix fluff please. 🥺🥺 (p.s I LOVE your writing, you are quite talented, and just have a way with words. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ love you ❤️)

Thank you, this really means a lot to me considering that English isn’t my first language.

I alread wrote something similar. You can find it here.

It’s never this cold in Australia

 Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Chan

Caregiver: Felix

 No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids would have another comeback soon, which left them with almost twice as much work as usual. Felix hated those times when they prepared for comebacks, not because he didn’t like to make new music, hell, he loved making new music, rather because Chan would always overdo it on himself and the younger could do nothing but watch the leader run himself into the ground. This time was no different and it had actually been a few days since any of the members had seen their leader apart from the dance practices they spent together. Not even Changbin and Jisung were allowed to stay in the studio with their hyung because after the songs were written and most lines were recorded, Chan had to edit them. Since the other two members of 3racha wouldn’t be able to help much with editing other than approving or disapproving, they were more of a distraction to the Aussie, so in hopes of not stressing him out more, they left him to work in peace. Maybe if there were no distractions, he’d finish faster and take the time to rest afterwards. However, assuming there were no distractions, was wishful thinking. There certainly still were distractions, the worst of them a headache that had started bothering Chan a few days ago. He wasn’t surprised at all, considering he slept even less than usual, spending day and night looking at his laptop screen. The Aussie was no stranger to headaches, often overworking himself. The only thing he was grateful for was that he hadn’t had a migraine yet like he always got them when he was too stressed and sleep-deprived.

As days passed, the headache wasn’t the only thing bothering him. After falling asleep in front of his laptop at the studio again, Chan woke up with a completely blocked nose. Unable to breathe through it in the slightest. The pain had shifted right between his brows, causing his eyes to water. The light coming from the screen in front of him didn’t help either and after saving all his open files, he closed the laptop. Feeling more exhausted than he had in a while, he dropped his head onto the desk and closed his eyes again. If he had the energy, he’d move to the couch at the back of the studio and allow himself a small nap. Not longer than an hour though because he couldn’t afford losing the time he needed to finish everything before their deadlines. He had slept just fine in his chair earlier but now it didn’t work anymore, leaving the Aussie to just sit with his eyes closed, head on his arms, as he started overthinking. Sure, the headache could be caused by exhaustion but now his nose was stuffed up and he felt so cold. If he could, he’d get up and adjust the air conditioning but getting up sounded way too tiring. Though Chan didn’t want to admit it to himself, he could tell he was coming down with something and the thought of getting sick stressed him out. What if he wouldn’t be able to meet the deadlines? No! He could! He had worked through illnesses quite a few times before, so why shouldn’t he manage to do that now?

He didn’t know how much time had passed but his phone started to buzz with a reminder that he had to be at the practice room within the next ten minutes. Groaning at the thought of having to move around and music blearing loudly, Chan forced himself up and tried to remind himself of the positive things. Maybe dancing would help warm him up and he wouldn’t feel so cold afterwards. Stumbling to the door of his studio, the Aussie braced himself against the door frame and drew in a shaky breath. His nose tingled, causing his eyes to water before he ducked into the crook of his elbow with a rough sounding sneeze. Chan cleared his throat, wincing at how raw it felt, and used his sleeve to dab away the irritated tears that had spilled from his eyes. Trying to pull himself together, he made his way to the practice room and occasionally rubbed his arms to generate warmth. His previously blocked nose had started to run and he sniffled lightly before pushing the door open and cringing at the bright ceiling lights. Most of his dongsaengs were already there, stretching or going over short sequences of the choreography that they didn’t feel confident in yet. “Hyung!”, Jisung yelled, jogging over and hugging the leader, “Guys, he’s alive! Hyung, I didn’t think we’d get to see you anymore.” Chan barely noticeably flinched at the rapper’s loud voice and hesitantly hugged back, grateful for some warmth.

After some more teasing about not having seen the oldest in ages, they moved on to practicing but it didn’t go too well for Chan. Just standing upright already made him feel lightheaded, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that the fast step sequences caused the oldest to stumble frequently. His head was thumping with the same beat blasting from the speakers as Chan braced himself on his knees panting. It was only now that he noticed how difficult it was to breathe through a nose that was stuffed up and somehow runny at the same time. The dancing also hadn’t done much to warm him up like he had hoped it would. Usually he’d dance in a t-shirt only but today, he wore a sweater over his t-shirt, not even taking it off after one hour of dancing when all of the members were drenched in sweat. To be fair, he was drenched in sweat too but at the same time, he still felt cold. Seeing how out of breath their oldest was, Minho announced they’d have a ten-minute break to drink something and catch their breaths. They all knew Chan didn’t like to be called out when he wasn’t doing as well as usual, so the others just went to drink something and chat with each other, while Felix made his way over to his fellow Aussie, lowly asking: “Hey, you alright there? You’re looking pretty tired.” – “I am, both. Just haven’t been sleeping much”, the older replied quietly, letting out a shaky breath as he sat down next to his bag. Uncapping his water bottle, he struggled it really drink something because he couldn’t breathe while there was water in his mouth.

Chan put his bottle back into his bag and closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose, willing the headache away. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”, Felix hummed, sitting down next to his friend. The leader shrugged, sniffling: “Jus’ goin’ back to the studio. There’s so much I still need to finish and I don’t nearly have the time to.” The younger hummed in acknowledgement, not pointing out how miserable the other sounded. Felix could tell Chan was sick, the fact that he never took off his sweater being a dead giveaway, the slight rasp and congestion present in his voice only a confirmation. There was something else the dancer knew, the older wouldn’t do anything different from when he was healthy, he’d still work as long and as hard. This was one of the things he hated the most, watching his friend suffer but not being able to help because Chan didn’t want help. Help in this case would mean standing between him and his work and the leader would never tolerate that. Right now, it almost looked like he was dozing of against the wall and Minho felt guilty as he had to call them back to practicing. Felix got up first, reaching out both hands to pull Chan up, smiling sympathetically: “You sure you’re up for more dancing?” – “Lix, come on. I’m fine, really. We nee- ne - we need hESH! *sniff* we need to get this perfect”, the leader replied with a watery smile, that Felix could tell was entirely fake.

He also could tell that Chan was really frustrated with himself. Most of the group already had the dance moves down, the only one still struggling was their leader. They knew the sole reason for his difficulty with the choreography was that he wasn’t feeling well, whether that meant he was sick like Felix claimed or just sleep-deprived from all the hours he had worked through the night. Since they had mastered the dance and knew Chan would master it too when he was feeling better, Minho and Hyunjin, who were in charge of their practice session, called it a day. They convinced Chan that it was only scheduled for two hours and that they had different schedules now. It wasn’t entirely true but they were certain the oldest would end up either hurting himself or fainting if he kept dancing. After their practice was officially over, the group dispersed and practiced the things they wanted to improve for their comeback, singing, rapping or secretly returning to the practice room after Chan went back to his studio. Felix had tried to convince him to come back to the dorm, to take a warm shower and eat a proper meal but the older was stubborn, almost getting mad at the boy who only tried to help him. It wasn’t like the leader didn’t want to take a warm shower to get rid of the sweat and the chill that had settled bone-achingly deep but he was already stressed enough as it was and he knew it would only get more stressful if he wasted time that could better be spent working.

At this point, Felix knew he wouldn’t achieve anything by pestering the older. He’d only make him angry and cause him to hole himself up inside the studio even more, so he relented and watched with a heavy heart as the leader shuffled back to the studio. From around the corner, he heard two painful sounding sneezes and sadly shook his head, walking off into the opposite direction. If he couldn’t get Chan to come home with him, he’d at least get him a fresh t-shirt and hoodie because if the older wasn’t already sick, he’d certainly be after sitting in a room with air conditioning, wearing his sweat-through practice clothes. Unsure about the last time the leader had a decent meal, Felix also took the time to make some soup, pouring it into a thermos and packing a bowl and spoon, so his hyung could eat it at the studio. He grabbed a big sports bag and filled it with fresh clothes, the soup and a thick scarf the older had bought him during the first winter Felix experienced in Korea. Shortly before leaving the dorm again, he remembered to also shove a travel pack of tissues into the bag. If only Chan would take better care of himself.

The leader sat in front of his laptop, suppressing the urge to cry as the screen blurred in front of him. By now, one of his sleeves was constantly pressed against his nose, either to rub at it as he sniffled quietly or to keep him from sneezing all over his keyboard. He couldn’t tell when exactly his nose had gotten so sensitive but it only took as much as one slightly too forceful breath to make it start tickling again, which in turn would make his eyes water more and cause him to see even less of the screen in front of him, yet Chan refused to admit that his attempts of getting something done were unsuccessful. The leader pulled both of his sleeves over his palms to rub at his itchy face, sighing in frustration. His breath started to hitch again and giving into the feeling this time, he simply kept his sleeves over his face, waiting. "h-hESSH! hISH’iew!” He sniffled carefully before he dared to remove his hands, instead swiping his sleeves under his eyes to dry them. When did he start feeling this bad? Sure, he had started to feel this cold coming on earlier, yet he never thought it would cause him more than some congestion. Blinking at his screen, his eyes instantly started to water again, still, he tried to work through it, determined he wouldn’t let a cold keep him from meeting his deadlines.

Chan had taken off his shoes after some time, pulling his legs closer to his body as he curled up in his chair, trying to stay warm. He had already adjusted the air conditioning when he came back to the studio but it didn’t help much. By the time Felix arrived to the studio, it seemed like the leader was staring through his laptop screen rather than at it. He also didn’t notice the younger’s arrival, startling when Felix appeared next to him. The dancer heard him mumble something incoherent, not understanding a word but frowning at how out of it the older was. “Sorry, what was that?”, he hummed, resting a hand on Chan’s shoulder. The leader cleared his throat before repeating: “I said, ‘s never this cold in Australia.” The younger was stunned, to him it felt pretty toasty in the small studio after the air conditioning had been completely turned off. Worriedly he pressed his palm against his hyung’s forehead, causing the older to shudder. He clicked his tongue, stating: “Well, I can tell you why you feel cold. You’re feverish, which I’m pretty sure you knew already.” – “I-I hhh… hh’HDJsHhiew!” – “Mhm, exactly my point. You’re sick and should come home to rest”, Felix emphasized. That seemed to wake Chan. The drowsy fog in his head disappeared as his eyes finally focused on his dongsaeng, arguing: “I can’t. There’s still so much to do, I’m not going to finish this on time. God, I’m already so behind with everything. The comeback is too soon. If I don’t at least finish another three songs tonight, it’ll be a disaster.”

Sighing, Felix turned his chair away from his laptop, so it was facing him instead. “Hyung, it won’t. I know it’s already great as it is and Stay will agree with me. There’s still enough time till the comeback and Binnie-hyung and Sungie can help you. Besides, I don’t think you’re going to get much done with a fever like this”, he tried to reason. Face hardening, Chan got out of his chair, voice raised: “How would you know if the time is enough? You have no idea how many more songs I still have to edit. Those people won’t be Stay anymore if I can’t give him the music they are expecting from us. I could get stuff done tonight if you weren’t distracting me from it!” Voice cracking and giving out towards the end, the leader dropped back into his chair. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he mumbled apologies over and over again. He had never meant to snap at the younger like this and he’d also never raised his voice at Felix like this. Biting his lip, Felix pulled himself out of his dazed stupor. Chan’s outburst had been unexpected but he was sure the older didn’t mean it, so he forced down his shaken-up emotions and embraced the other, who quietly hiccupped, wiping at his eyes.

“Ssh, you’re okay. It’s okay, hyung. Everything’s just a bit too much right now, hm?”, he whispered, running his hand through the other’s disheveled curls. Chan nodded with a wet sniffle, trying to fight back the tears that just continued coming. His bottled-up stress and frustration now bubbling over. Pulling him to his feet, Felix guided the older over to the couch and sat down with him after quickly retrieving the bag he had brought. He pulled out the tissues and handed them to Chan, who messily wiped his cheeks before blowing his nose, irritating it again. “hISH’iew!” – “Bless you”, the dancer hummed, handing him another tissue as the first was already soggy. He kept rubbing his friend’s back, hugging him from time to time as he waited for the older to cry his emotions off of his chest. It took almost twenty minutes for Chan to calm himself down again. He didn’t even know why he was so upset, mainly feeling emotional and sensitive from his fever. Seeing he was still shivering slightly, Felix pulled out the scarf he had brought with him and laid it across the leader’s shoulders before rubbing his arms up and down. The older closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch, clearing his throat repeatedly. “Does your throat hurt too?”, the younger asked quietly. Chan shook his head, rasping: “’s jus’ dry from breathing through my mouth.” – “Oh, have some water then”, Felix instructed, handing him the bottle from his desk. He didn’t fully believe his hyung, so he was going to find out the truth differently. Of course, Chan’s wince didn’t go unnoticed as it was obvious swallowing hurt him.

Rolling his eyes at the leader’s stubbornness, Felix handed him the fresh clothes. It took some prodding because Chan was feeling way too cold to take off the shirt he was wearing but he felt much more comfortable in his clean hoodie afterwards. The younger was now wrapping the scarf around his neck to protect his already strained voice from further harm, while Chan was already dozing off in his sitting position. Gently nudging his arm, Felix reminded: “Come on, we still need to go home before you sleep. Did you eat already?” The leader shook his head. “You can either eat a late dinner back at the dorm or I brought you some soup. You could eat here and then go straight to bed when we get back”, he offered. This time Chan nodded. Furrowing his brows, the younger asked: “Yes to which option?” – “Straight to bed”, Chan muttered, barely staying awake. Felix quickly took out the soup he had prepared, glad when he found it still steaming, and agreed: “You can you straight to bed but please eat this first. You can’t run on protein shakes, granola bars and coffee the entire time.” – “That works pretty well”, the older argued, blowing onto the spoon. The dancer rolled his eyes, muttering: “Well, that’s debatable.” They sat in silence, apart from Chan’s soft sniffles, as the leader ate the first warm meal he had had in a week. He didn’t want to admit it but the soup felt nice, warming his sore throat and his entire body from the inside. Plus, His dongsaeng certainly wasn’t a bad cook, at least not as far as he could taste with his nose blocked.

Felix packed up the things he had brought, while Chan saved his files and slid his laptop into his backpack, ready to let the younger take him home. Although the thought of leaving the building into the night didn’t seem too appealing, the leader reminded himself of the warm bed waiting for him at the dorm. A bit lightheaded still, he relied fully on Felix’ arm around his waist, guiding him home as his eyes fought to stay open. He got even more unsteady as his breath hitched and he gripped onto the younger’s shoulder for support. The dancer slowed down even more, steadying his hyung as he brought up his arm sneezing into the crook of his arm twice, almost toppling over. “Bless you. We’re almost there”, Felix promised, dragging a sniffly Chan down another block towards their dorm building. The leader looked dead on his feet as the light in the entrance hall of the building illuminated his face. The younger wince as he grasped just how much the older’s condition had declined since their practice in the afternoon. Quietly whimpering, Chan pulled his hood further over his face to block out the uncomfortably bright light that made his eyes burn and head pound. After what seemed like a whole journey, they made it up to their dorm, kicking off their shoes. As promised, Felix walked the leader straight to his room where all the older did was changing into thicker sweatpants before curling up under his blanket. Felix left the room for a few minutes and returned with some water and medicine, whispering: “Since you ate something earlier, you can take something for your fever and headache now. I’ll leave the water on your nightstand in case you get thirsty or your throat bothers you during the night.” With a grateful but hoarse hum, Chan took the medicine before curling up again and burying his face in his blanket. "hESH! *sniff*” – “Bless you. Do you want cuddles?”, the younger offered. Shaking his head, the older replied pitifully: “Don’t want to get you sick too.” – “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to get me sick, I asked if you wanted cuddles”, Felix chuckled. Letting out a shaky laugh, Chan admitted: “I-I guess I do.” – “Alright, scoot over. Don’t worry if you still feel cold, you’ll get your very personal Australian sun.”

[tryingsomethingoutidkyet]

Ham Hocks: 100 follower celebration

Ok so I may have accidentally found some writing inspiration . It is currently 4am and the smoke is clearing out of my house. Let’s see if this turns out well.

WORDS: 1.4k

Warnings: Fire (not really, but almost)

Pro hero! Sero x College!Reader 

////////////////////

Let’s get one thing clear, you can cook, you can. It’s just that you were tired. Which is justified. You had been working for the past two weeks non-stop on a project for your college class that you’re more than willing to admit you invested an unhealthy amount of time into completing, so much so that you hardly had a break.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take a break either, in fact, you thought you’d be done by now. And you would’ve been if your project partner actually did his half of the work instead of lying to you about how much he was getting done every time you checked in with him, only for him to tell you the week before the project was due that he hadn’t actually gotten anything done besides putting his name on it and yes, it was too late to switch partners. Which is how you got stuck gathering weeks of research, siting sources and linking articles into a few days of effort in order to get a passing grade.

It was about 12am and you had just finished the final page of your work, thankfully having gotten both halves of the project done without any other issues. You even had time to attach a detailed note to your professor about who did what exactly. Yes it was petty, but you did everything yourself and you refuse to allow the very reason you had been up for the past few days, surviving on an aggressive amount of coffee and maybe 8 hours of sleep total to get the same grade as you.

After completing your project you find yourself suddenly aware of all the needs you’ve deprived yourself of for the past few days. You were hungry and tired and you just wanted to take a shower that was longer than 5 minutes. So that’s what you set out to do.

Let’s get one thing clear, you can cook, you can. It’s just that you were tired. Which is justified. You had been working for the past two weeks non-stop on a project for your college class that you’re more than willing to admit you invested an unhealthy amount of time into completing, so much so that you hardly had a break.

After completing your project, you find yourself suddenly aware of all the needs you’ve deprived yourself of for the past few days. You were hungry and tired, and you just wanted to take a shower that was longer than 5 minutes. So that’s what you set out to do.

 It didn’t work out that way

You had scoured your kitchen for a quick meal and unfortunately came up with nothing. Dealing with the project kept you so busy you guess you forgot to buy food. The only thing you had in your freezer was a pack of fatass ham hocks and those take forever to get done. You contemplated sleep for dinner tonight before finally deciding to put them on the stove. “I’ll just sleep in tomorrow.” You reassured yourself as you headed to the shower.

Coming back from your shower at about 1am, you sat on your bed turned on the tv to distract yourself while you wait. There was nothing on considering how late it was, so you decided to leave it on the news.

  Now onto some exciting hero news. Pro hero Cellophane was seen today taking down a pretty big villain…  

 “At least I’ll stay up for this.” You say to yourself as you adjust on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. You had been a Cellophane fan for a while so seeing him finally getting recognition for all his hard work was pretty exciting.

  The anchor lady continued to talk about the rising star pro-hero and his defeat of some creepy villain that looked like a science project gone wrong.

   You weren’t really paying attention to the news anchor as she spoke, preferring to focus your attention onto the footage that played in the background of your favorite hero.

 Honestly, you don’t even know how you became a fan. It’s not like you were always big on heroes. You couldn’t name more than a few but somehow, the human tape dispenser had caught your attention from the very start of his career. He always seemed to go out of his way to help civilians, no matter how small their troubles may have been. Which should be normal for a hero but seeing as how the pro hero Screamy Mc Anger Face is sitting at #2 on the hero charts, you really held an appreciation for Cellophane.

 It also didn’t hurt that over the years of you being a fan, this man has gotten more and more attractive. He had gotten taller, and now according to the tape man himself, was sitting at a good 6’2. His jaw had become more shaped and his form had filled out a little as well thanks to his years in the hero business. He had let his hair grow out a little more and seemed to mainly keep it in a ponytail for his hero work. He was truly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

 You were so caught up in your thoughts of Sero you hadn’t even noticed you were falling asleep.

You didn’t get much time to rest, however as you were being pulled out of your slumber by someone roughly shaking you. Your eyes shot open and met with a set of deep brown pupils that seemed so familiar although you didn’t quite know why. Allowing your vision to adjust, you see that they belong to someone you’d found yourself admiring for a while. “Oh, I must be dreaming.” You say to yourself as you roll over, fully intending to get the most out of whatever this was you were being blessed with. You loved when god blessed your dreams, at least you thought it was a dream.

 Only until you felt yourself being lifted into some pretty solid arms. “Ok definitely not a dream, y/n.”  Your eyes shot open once again, very much awake this time. The Sero Hanta was carrying you. But why? You were trying to wrap your head around the situation, but it was hard to focus. There was a loud screeching that had filled your head and you couldn’t see much further than Sero’s head due to the thick smoke in the house. That was when it clicked: My ham hocks

 Before you knew it, you were out of your apartment complex and being placed feet first onto the cold ground. After a quick look to see you weren’t physically injured, he began to speak.” It doesn’t look like anything more than smoke; I checked the whole house.” He stated before gesturing toward your smoking apartment. “I’m going back inside to open the windows and turn off the alarm; wait here.” He walked off into your apartment. Sero Hanta was just standing in front of you. Sero Hanta was just carrying you. Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

 When he came back, he was holding a few of your items in hand. “It looks like you’re just gonna have to wait it out, so I got you a few things from inside; I hope you don’t mind.” He says handing you one of your jackets, a pair of fuzzy slippers and your phone. “Thanks.” You say, slipping on the items before focusing your attention on him. He was so much hotter in person. How is that possible?

  “So… how’d you get in my house?” He looked surprised. “Oh, wow that sounded rude, I’m sorry.” You say nervously “It’s just that as attractive as you are, I’d rather not have a stalker. Wait that’s not what I meant- “he cut you off with a chuckle. “No, it’s fine. I guess I just wasn’t really expecting that question. I was coming back from patrol and I saw smoke coming from over there.” He says gesturing toward your open kitchen window. “So, I climbed through. Thankfully, your room door was closed so no smoke was able to get in. You’re a pretty heavy sleeper, by the way.”

 “Yeah, not really” you sheepishly reply, “I had a big project for class that kept me up for a while, so I guess my body just kinda went into a coma.”  You were less nervous now “Honestly I’m surprised my neighbors didn’t hear all the noise.” Despite everything that happened, they hadn’t made a peep. “Well, it is 3am. At this point they’re probably all dead to the world.”

 “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late” You say, checking your phone. “You probably want to get home, so I won’t keep you.” You had felt guilty. He spent today battling villains and now he couldn’t go home because somebody couldn’t stay awake long enough to keep their sad meal from turning into an almost house fire.

 Sero didn’t seem to mind standing there with you at all, however. “No, it’s fine.” he reassured, “I really don’t mind. Besides, you’re pretty attractive yourself.” Wait-

He grins and continues “ Also, I was hoping that while I was getting your number, you could tell me what it was you were cooking in that pot, because I couldn’t figure it out.

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

Thank you for 100+ followers!!! idk why y’all are here but you are and I appreciate it.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Never Be Sorry, Not For This (part 2)

NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW 

Ya boi is back and feeling extra spicy- SMUT AHOY  

You woke up thinking someone had broken into your room, hands blindly swinging at the dark shape that loomed over you

“It’s me!” Gene hissed, cool hands grabbing your wrists and gently dodging your flying fists. “Kicked your canteen over on accident, I didn’t mean to wake you mon cher….”

Heart still in your throat, you have to blink up at him a few more times before his words seem to make sense to your sleep addled brain.

“What time is it?” you ask, but before you can take your arm back to check your watch Gene’s slid in between the salvaged bLankets you’d piled for the both of you and taking your watch off of your wrist and tossing it by the foot of the mattress.

“Late. Early. try to go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you—”

“Don’t be….missed you.” Turning to face him you press a quick , chaste kiss to his lips. “Glad you’re here.”

You’d known and loved each other for nearly three years now, and he still got flustered whenever you told him simple and straightforward things like that- I’m glad you’re here, you make me so happy. I love you more than I can say, you now that don’t you Eugene….?

“guess what?” he asks softly in the darkness, and you grin.

“Hm?” you grumble as you refocus, nuzzling your cold nose into the warmth of his neck and kissing the soft skin apologetically when he hisses at the temperature.

“It’s your birthday.” 

Well, I wasn’t ….it was?

You roll onto your back, Gene’s warm body following yours as he gives you a small smile. 

The mattress you were sharing was old and smelled musty but after weeks of sleeping sitting up in the backs of cars it was practically heaven.

Anytime you got to be alone with Eugene Roe was practically heaven.

The only time that seemed to happen lately was during the coveted designated rest time, but you were far from complaining.

 Because, as amazing as sleeping with Gene is, nothing compares to sleeping beside Gene.

You’d never met someone so affectionate, and that affection did not lessen just because he had fallen asleep. He's always touching some part of you- an ankle hooked around yours, his sleep-slackened hand heavy on your thigh, steady breath raising chills across your chest as he burrows for you.

in Georgia, you’d lamented the overwhelming heat of his body on yours. Youd bitched and moaned that you were melting and he was just making it worse.

I’ve made you melt before, mon cher. I think you’re just too warm...

 But here in Europe- with it’s frigid days and even colder nights, you’d become the touchy one. He didn’t seem to mind the change.

 He brushes his nose against your temple as he kisses along your hairline, inhaling the smell of the shampoo Easy had been gifted upon their return from the frontlines the day before.

“Do you think I can get Luz to sing me ‘happy birthday’?” you tease, arching your back to stretch your sore muscles.

He seems to consider that for a moment. “Knowing George Luz, I'd say the bigger challenge will be getting him to stop singing to you.”

You nod in the pale light of the room, your warm chuckle turning into a sigh when he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “You raise an excellent point, Doc. Knew you were more than just a pretty face…”

You feel him smile against your cheek, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he just looks so content that it takes your breath away. 

 You hold his face in your hands, unable to stop the amused smirk that crosses your face when he leans into your touch.

You both stay like that for a moment, enjoying e/o’s presence in comfortable silence until you see a thought form in his mind that suddenly has him eyeing you somewhat knowingly.

“Remember your last birthday?”

 Your grin is gone, mouth popping open surprise at the sharp turn his mood had taken.

 like you could forget anything about your last birthday.

 Well, more accurately- anything about your birthday celebration with Gene. 

Unwilling to let him see how instantaneously the mention of your night at the club had gotten you flustered, you pretend to think for a moment, bringing a hand up to tap at his chin.

“Hm, not sure? Remind me what we did?”

He kisses you with a roll of his eyes, mouth tasting of toothpaste and cigarettes.

I remember when I first kissed him. He tasted like whiskey-smoked sugar and i thought i was going to burst into flame.

“Red silk,” he murmurs. “Pecans? You, forgetting how to breathe and dance at the same time—?”

You scoff a laugh at that, bringing his mouth back to yours and shutting him up with another kiss.

He breaks the kiss with a soft curse, taking a deep, ragged breath when your hands find the hem of his shirt and push it up enough that you can touch his bare back. You gently scratch at him with your short nails, a greedy feeling of lust blossoming in your chest at the prospect of Gene being at your mercy.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he starts shaking his head as if he is trying to clear it.

With a bite at your bottom  lip Gene rolls atop you sto he can rest between your splayed thighs, kissing you twice more before purposefully rutting against you and letting you feel the firm press of his cock.

“Yeah,” you pant, nodding against his cheek as you desperately try to catch your breath. “I think it’s starting to ring a bell….”

“Well, if you’ll allow me to remind you….”

You’re nodding before he’s finished his teasing offer, thighs coming up to rest against his waist. “Si-to-ple (please).”

like a gunshot signalling the beginning of a race, your plea opens the floodgates and Gene is everywhere.

His french has become too fast and interspersed with (what you assumed were) regional words and phrases too specific for her to understand, but just from the tone you know he’s telling you about the dance you’d shared. 

It hadn’t been until the singer finished her set that the two of you had finally seemed to surface from whatever libidinous spell the night had put upon you, embarrassingly aroused and looking absolutely wrecked.

His hand had refused to part from the dip of your waist, wordlessly guiding the both of you towards the door and across the street to the motel you’d both individually gotten a room at.

the only time he’d stopped to speak was to ask you which way your room was, and you had decided to show rather than tell…

 His fingers were stoking the slick fire between your legs, having long ago made it his mission to learn your body’s secrets until he knew it nearly as well as his own.

Of course he’d blushed when you’d made it clear that you wanted to know him just as completely, but after you’d made it obvious just how badly you wanted to please him.

“More,” you whimper, cutting off another hushed devotion he had started mouthing against her collarbone. “Please, m'amour?”

You knew how distracted it made him when you would pepper in a french phrase here and there, but but when you did it in bed? He’d forget himself, something in the way your lips curled around the foreign sounds adding a more desperate fuel to whatever fire he has burning in him for you at the moment.

This time was no different.

“tricheuse (cheater),” he adminishes lightly, heel of his hand grinding against your clit. “What do you want, mon cher,  what can I give you?” 

Fuck, why did he have to talk like that? Simple questions should not sound so much like dirty talk but dear god it really does.

 “Tell me what you need,” he’d whispered that night, having helped free you from your dress and your slip gathered uselessly around your waist. “I’ll give you anything, i just need you to tell me…”

 “I want to feel you,” your words have him rutting against you like he’s nervous, and you hear him swear that you’re trying to kill him. “I want you to be inside me, God I want your cock so badly—”

His tongue in your mouth quiets you enough for him to process your request, and when you look up at him he shakes his head in  awestruck disbelief.

“Okay,” he eventually says, once he’s had a moment to stare down at your heaving chest and regain control. “Okay, sweetheart.”

 the first brush of him against your bare lips had you begging like a sex-deprived pervert, and you couldn’t stop babbling about how he already felt so good and made you feel so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

he’d whined when you finally welcomed his soft intrusion, lips trembling with want as he licked the sheen of sweat from your skin.

“Don’t stop,” he’d gasped when you’d made purposeful eye contact with him and bore down on him, and the squeeze of your hands on his ass told him that you really meant what you were begging for. “I don’t know….you’re perfect. Just keep...YESSsssss…”

 You feel how close you are, Gene’s rhythmic rocking somehow finding stride in your embarrassingly wanton writhing, the air between you nearly as hot as it had been all those months ago.

“I’m close, i’m so close, my love….” your words are more air than voice, but you know he understands because he’s nodding as he bites at your nipple softly. “I want you to come, too. That’s what I want, Eugene- please let me feel you when you—”

“Don’t —” he groans, one of his hands flying up to cover your mouth. His stomach trembles against yours as he changes the tilt of your hips just so before starting a punishing pace that robs you of any ability to think coherently. “Don’t you dare say something like that- FUCK, especially when you’re looking a t me like that—and expect me not to fucking burst—” 

I love you I love you I need you too much. you’re so perfect, you ruin me.

Please don’t let me go. Please stay here with me.

 The building wave in your belly finally crests and you’re gone, a breathy wince twisting your face as the hand that had been on your mouth jumps down to your clit as your orgasm crashes you to and fro.

In a tremble of his own he quickly pulls out of your sex and spills himself onto your stomach. As he comes, his grip on you is almost painful, but some part of your blissed-out mind relishes the idea of finding bruises on your hips and thighs later.

“Yes,” you sigh, even though part of you wishes he’d forget about being responsible for one minute and come inside of you. “Oh, God yes, Gene…”

 You know why he doesn’t, you know why he really shouldn’t.

Last time, he had. 

He also almost had a panic attack at the idea of getting me pregnant the last time, so i guess this is a fair trade.

He’s still fighting to control his breathing when you take his face i your hands and iss him sweetly, speckling kisses across his face as you pull him to your chest and hold him there.

 “So good,” you’re cooing, drunk on endorphins and your lover. “Fuck, you’re too good at that…”

He barks a laugh, the sound warm and sleepy against your neck. 

You reach for one of your wet washcloths from your shower earlier and wipe his cum from your skin, rolling your eyes when he grumbles an apology.

“Maybe next time you can come in my mouth, if this embarrasses you so much.”

his entire body stiffens at that, and when you start to laugh he prods you gently in the rib.

“That’s it. I’m dead….I’ve died. You’ve killed me.”

You recover the quickest between the two of you, and you wrap your arms around him and trace patterns across his back until his breathing slows, the sweat on your skin cooling and leaving you feeling sated and dirty.

“Whoops.” you say, not even trying to sound sorry. “But….my point still stands.”

you feel him shake his head, and you let your eyes slide shut when he presses a wet hiss to your shoulder.

“Je suis amoureux de vous.” 

you nod,even though you know he can’t see it.

“I know, and I’m in love with you, too.”

“Happy birthday.” he grumbles, or at least that's what you think he’s said. 

You’d shared a bed with him enough by now to know that Eugene was going to be asleep within the next forty seconds, so you shifted slightly so you were more comfortable beneath him.

“Just wait til next month,” you say half to yourself, calculating the days between your birthday and his. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

But he’s already snoring softly, and he doesn’t hear your threat.

You duck a kiss to his temple. “I really do love you.”

 In his sleep, Gene mumbles your name, and you decide that maybe being soft for someone isn’t so bad after all.

(WOW HERE’S PART TWO. It’s pure filth. It’s gross. I need to go drink some water and think about what i’ve done)

tagging @georgeparisole , @itswormtrain , and  @a-big-ball-of-idk bc y’all commented and gave me the incentive to crank this out