#I’ve had more migraines this year alone than I’ve had since I’ve started getting them!!!

[choicesmc]

va’or is getting my migraines and unk doesn’t even have Tylenol so sorry boo :(((

[meraki24601]

Just a fever

I’ve been reading a few sickfics recently and thought I’d write one based on what it felt like when I had COVID. Only, this time someone comes to help. Someone unexpected.

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

Hero sits in their car, staring blankly out the windshield. It’s been years since they were last sick. Honestly, they couldn’t really remember the last time they’d had more than a simple migraine. There’s no denying their illness now. The dull aching that held their body down in the seat. The throbbing in their temples. The dryness of their throat.

It had been steadily creeping up on them all week. What had started as a light cough no one paid any attention to thanks to the changing seasons, slowly getting worse. Finally, their boss sent them home an hour early today to get some rest over the weekend. Now, they just have to make it inside. Easy.

The car door swings open faster than they had expected. Their grip on the handle nearly pulls them out of the car to slam against the brick wall next to the vehicle. Maybe if Hero can take a nap then they’ll feel better. It’s probably a stomach bug based on how the offended area churns as Hero walks into their cold home. They turn up the heat, grab a blanket, and sit in their favorite chair to wait for the worst of it to pass. 

Sleep overtakes them before they can fully settle the blanket over their tired body.

A splash jolts Hero from their sleep. The room around them is blurry and their head feels heavy as they try to orient themselves. Another splash behind them draws their attention to the fish tank in the corner. Hero’s fish swims to the surface and slaps the water with their tail when they find no food. 

“Right. I’m sorry.” Hero whispers to the offended creature, “I didn’t feed you when I got back, did I?” They usually feed the fish first thing when they get home, and now it's… 9:30… Oh. They slept for nearly 6 hours. 

The fish splashes again and Hero laughs breathily. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. You must be really hungry.” Hero’s legs shake so much they fear they’ll fall into the tank. It’s not far from their chair to the small container of fish food. They can’t help but wish they had wrapped the blanket around their shoulders as they struggle to hold the container steady against their uncontrollable shivers. All they want is to sit down, but their hands are too sweaty to close the lid on the bottle. 

Wait. They feel so cold their limbs are frozen into ice, making it hard to move, and yet they’re sweating like they just finished an intense workout.

Well, that’s not good. 

Grabbing their blanket as they pass, Hero stumbles into their bathroom. They sit on the edge of the tub and stuff their thermometer in their mouth. At least their stomach isn’t churning like it was before, and their muscles don’t feel as stiff. No. That’s not right. The ache is still there. It’s an unpleasant background noise adding to the pressure in their head.

The thermometer beeps and Hero gasps, “102.7!” They don’t think they’ve ever had a fever that high. Their breath catches in their chest. This is really bad. They live alone, so there’s no one there to help them if things get worse. How high of a fever is too high? They should probably lay back down. They still feel so cold. Are they allowed to have a blanket over them? They should probably drink some water, but won’t that mess things up if they try to take their temperature again? They haven’t eaten anything since lunch, but what if eating makes them throw up? 

Hero blinks, their body stiffening. They’re no longer sitting on the edge of their bathtub. Instead, their knees are pressed against the arm of their chair, hands tightly gripping the back of the seat for balance. When did they leave the bathroom? A rough coughing fit compresses their chest and makes it hard to breathe.

Slumping in their chair, Hero sighs. Even with their blanket, they’re still cold. They turn on their TV. Maybe the noise can distract them from the mess in their mind. A fever, aches that are there but also not, pressure like the beginning of a migraine, and missing time. And with no real history of being sick, they’re not really sure if this is normal. Should they be concerned or just sleep?

An especially strong shiver pulls Hero from their thoughts. Weak hands reach for their phone. It’s been nearly an hour since they woke up. When did that happen? The dull ache in their muscles has sunken even deeper but they’re surprisingly steady as they stand. Each step ripples through their body and presses on their mind as they walk back to the bathroom. This time, the thermometer reads 103.4.

“That’s it.” They whisper to no one. “I’m calling Mentor.” They stumble a bit as they leave the bathroom, slamming into the wall. Their phone is heavy in their hand. Are they being too dramatic? It’s already after 10. Actually nearly 11 now. Mentor might be asleep. Hero hits the call button before they’ve completely made up their mind.

“Hero? Is everything alright? You don’t usually call me this late.” Mentor’s voice is loud in their quiet house. Even the TV volume is turned down low enough that it can barely be heard. 

“I’m sorry, Mentor. I think I might be sick and I don’t know what to do about it.” Hero’s voice is barely over a whisper and so gravelly from their dry throat they aren’t sure Mentor would understand them. 

Mentor yawns in their ear, “Really? You never get sick. Do you have a fever?” Mentor is quiet as Hero lists their symptoms. It takes them a moment to respond once Hero goes quiet. “Hmm. You’re definitely sick.” Another yawn. “I don’t think you need to go to the hospital yet, but let me know if your fever gets higher. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Mentor.” Hero sighs. They feel a little better knowing Mentor doesn’t think it’s bad enough to warrant a hospital visit. Smothering a cough, they listen as Mentor mumbles goodbye and hangs up. This is really going to suck, but they can make it through this. They just need to distract themselves and monitor their temperature.

Once again, they stumble to the bathroom. 103.6

Their chest tightens at the sight. Mentor told them to tell them if the fever gets worse, but surely they didn’t mean by .2 degrees. Mentor needs to sleep. Hero shouldn’t bother them. They just need a distraction. Maybe they should pick up the dirty clothes they left on the bathroom floor. 

Hero’s head spins as they bend over to gather up the clothes. For a moment their vision goes dark around the edges, but it passes and they stand with the clothes in their arms. Staying close to the wall, just in case, they sort the clothes into their laundry basket. They’re moving so slow it takes them nearly ten minutes to finish the job and return to the bathroom. 

They check again. 103.7.

They clear the small pile of trash from the coffee table in the living room.

103.9.

Hero sits for a while to watch TV.

104.2.

They sweep the entryway of tracked-in grass cuttings, only falling against the walls twice.

104.5.

Maybe they should stop. Hero’s chest is tight. They can barely catch a full breath. They wonder if they should call Mentor again since they’re sure having a fever over 104 degrees is bad, but it’s already 11:30. Mentor is definitely asleep now. Besides, Hero is still functional. They haven’t actually passed out and they’re still able to focus and think and move. They’re fine, right? They shouldn’t bother people so much. They’ll send them a text! That way if they’re still awake they’ll be able to respond, but they won’t wake them up if they’re asleep. 

Hero steps out of the bathroom and starts down the hall to get their phone when the doorbell rings. Hero can’t help but jump and drops the thermometer they had been clutching. Who would visit them at this hour? Mentor? Maybe they came to check on them after all! Their chest tightens even more. Mentor has a key.

The door bursts open and Villain struts into Hero’s house. 

Their shallow breath catches in Hero’s heavy lungs. Their phone is still in the living room. Too far for them to make it before Villain catches them. There’s a panic button in their bedroom down the hall. Maybe they can make it. 

Clutching their chest, Hero turns to run for the room only a few steps away. The motion is too fast with the pressure on their head. The world spins and they stumble against the wall. “Five steps.” Hero pushes themself, “Just five steps and then a locking door. Then you’re safe.”

They make it two before they collapse. 

Villain’s hands are rough as they flip Hero onto their back. Their face, however, looks concerned. They say something Hero can’t hear, then disappear from view. Hero starts to stand, but Villain’s frown materializes above them again and something is shoved into their mouth. 

Strong hands hold Hero down and the object in their mouth. ‘Please,’ they want to beg, ‘let me go. I can’t breathe.’ 

An alarm goes off and the object is removed from their mouth. The pressure on their chest disappears with it. A burst of air floods their lungs. Just enough to scream as they feel their clothes being pulled off. “No. Stop.” 

They don’t stop. A quiet voice pierces the ringing in their ears as their last layer of protection is removed. “I’m not letting you die like this.” Hero is helpless to stop them as they move their body and a rush of cold water covers them.

It’s cold. Too cold. They can’t breathe. The world goes dark.

Part 2

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[kckenobi]

11 or 15 with obi wan and satine? Or whoever you’re feeling, really. If you want, if not that’s cool. You do a lot of really good writing and I hope you have a nice day!

11. “I know you can’t talk, but I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere.”

(ahhh thank you, anon! it’s been FAR too long since I wrote a migraine fic, so—)

Satine was only on Coruscant for a day—both the joy and tragedy of planetary politics. She didn’t have to spend long stretches of time in the Senate the way her galactic counterparts did, for which she was often thankful...but there were times she’d rather spend a bit longer in the Senate dome halls.

Like, for example, when she saw a certain Jedi Master wandering her way.

“Master Kenobi.”

“Duchess.” He bowed curtly, and though his smile was 20 years older than when she’d grown to love it, she felt herself warm at the familiar sight of home. “I didn’t know you were onworld.”

“Ah,” Satine said. “So you just happen to be meandering about the halls of a government building this afternoon?”

She was joking, of course. But Obi-Wan didn’t laugh. In fact, his smile had faded completely, replaced with a tight grimace and paling skin. Satine’s eyes narrowed.

“Master Kenobi, are you alright?”

He straightened. “Fine. My apologies—I’ve recently returned from Columus, where the gravity is sub-standard, and I’m afraid the re-adjustment has left me with some...lingering dizziness.”

“Hmm,” Satine said. “Why don’t I believe you?”

She found his eyes, but only for a moment before they skirted away.

“Would you like to sit down with me?” she said, keeping her tone formal enough but letting the warmth into her voice too. “I’m permitted to use the office for visiting dignitaries as long as I’m here, and they stock the cabinets with the best tea leaves.”

Obi-Wan offered her a tight smile. He looked weary. “That would be lovely.”

When they entered the office, she left him to sit down while she began to prepare the tea. Reading his exhaustion, she didn’t push conversation—instead humming to herself, a Stewjoni tune he’d taught her when they were young, wondering if he’d notice. But after the third refrain, when he still hadn’t said anything, she turned to ask him if he’d forgotten it.

She didn’t expect to see him with his head down on the table.

“Obi-Wan?”

He sat up. “Sorry. I—just have a bit of a headache.” He swallowed, looking down.

She remembered something, then—a distant memory of Qui-Gon Jinn, piloting the ship one morning instead of Obi-Wan. When she’d asked, Qui-Gon had simply told her to stay away from the sleeping quarters if she could—“Padawan Kenobi isn’t...isn’t well today.”

Now, Satine set the kettle lightly down on the counter. “You still get migraines,” she said, more of a confirmation than a question.

He nodded tightly.

“Oh,” she said. “My dear, you should be resting—I can’t believe you still came back for tea feeling so...did you drive here?”

He nodded again. Rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t want you driving home like this. I can—“

“Can you just call Anakin?” he said. “Sorry, I—if I look at the holo, the bright screen light...”

“Of course.”

But he didn’t even move to get his commlink. With a shaky inhale, he just closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his temple.

Satine moved to his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders and massaging gently. “Oh, my love,” she said. “Lay your head down.”

“Sorry. I’m fine. Here, I’ll just—“

He reached for his comm to type the message, but she took it away. “I told you—I’ll get it,” she said. “I’d drive you myself, but I don’t want to leave you alone long enough to pull up the speeder, not when you feel like this. And anyway, you know I have an iron foot—Anakin’s probably the superior pilot.”

He didn’t laugh, or even smile this time. When she passed him back the comm, his trembling hands fumbled as he shoved it back in his pocket. She took both his shaking hands in hers and squeezed. When he looked at her, his eyes were unfocused—and he looked as young as he did all those years ago.

“Lay your head down,” she repeated. “In my lap. I’ll let you know when Anakin answers.”

“That’s not—it wouldn’t be—“

“Proper?” Satine smiled—she couldn’t help herself. “Ah, I forgot—Master Kenobi cares about things like propriety. As I recall, Padawan Kenobi had no such dignity.”

At that, he did let out a small huff—almost a laugh—before it faded back into a grimace.

“Satine, I just...want to warn you—sometimes it gets so bad...I’m not able to speak, or open my eyes. Sometimes...I get sick,” he said, his voice weak. “So if I stop answering you—“

“Shhh,” she said. “Just lie down, love. And let me hold you.”

With a shuddering breath, and Satine’s hands on his shoulders to guide him, he laid down. His head rested in her lap, his knees were bent and pulled toward his chest. His breaths came harder and his eyes squeezed shut, and Satine ached at her helplessness.

But even if she couldn’t take away his pain, she could do this—run her fingers lightly through his hair, studying the grays mixed in with the auburn. She could rub his back when she felt him stiffen, trailing her hand down his side. She could find his hands and squeeze them in hers, letting him squeeze back each time the pain spiked.

When Obi-Wan’s commlink buzzed again, she reached into his pocket herself to answer Anakin.

“Obi,” she said softly. “Anakin wants to know if you took your medication yet.”

It was slight, but he nodded. She started to type back. And then, there was a second part to Anakin’s message—how bad is it?

She looked down at Obi-Wan and had her answer instantly.

Anakin’s response came quickly. “Anakin’s coming, but he says if it’s already this bad,” she said, “it’s better not to move you. Coruscant’s airlanes are too loud and bright.” She ran her fingers through his bangs. “Are you alright to stay here for now?”

He made a soft noise that Satine interpreted as an affirmative.

“Don’t you…have places to be?”

She did, in fact, have a committee meeting in half an hour. But she shook her head.

“The only place I need to be,” she said, “is right here with you.”

His only response was to suck in a tight breath and cover his face with trembling hands.

“What would help?” she said softly. “Can you stomach some water? You feel warm, maybe a cold cloth—“

He didn’t answer.

“Obi-Wan?”

No words in reply—just a shaky breath and a high, weak sound.

“Oh, my sweet love,” Satine said, heart aching as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I know you can’t talk. Don’t try. But I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, alright, dear?”

She took one of his hands in hers—it felt limp—and lightly kissed his knuckles.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

—

from these whump prompts

[carelessannie]

Thunderspider anon here: omegaverse, maybe Thor and Peter meet and have a sort of flirtation happening, but Thor holds back because he thinks Peter is with Tony. He finds out they are not together then... Idk

Sorry this took a minute, sweet Anon! I’ve been in love with Thunderspider the past few weeks and... alright, I hope you like this.

There also might be some more sweet Peter and Thor coming up soon...

Warnings: mmm only for Omegaverse and misunderstandings

---

“So, uh... where did you say you were from again?"

“New Asgard, off the Southern shore of Norway."

Peter hums in interest, “And how did you meet my Alpha?"

“Did he not tell you?"

“... mm, no. I don’t think so."

“We are work partners, and I owe Tony a great debt for assisting in the resettlement of our people."

They’re relatively close on the couch, knees touching, and Thor feels a bit uncomfortable. The boy in front of him is charming, stunning, but sadly, completely unavailable. It apparently doesn’t stop the younger man from leaning closer and resting a hand on Thor’s knee.

Peter's eyes brighten in recognition, “Oh! I didn’t realize that was your country, I’ve heard a bit about it, but I usually don’t get all the details, you know?"

Thor does know. His mother would often complain about being left out of important delegating decisions. So he just reaches down a pats the pretty Omega's hand comfortingly, holding it lightly and enjoying the slight warmth.

Peter blinks up at him and shuffles closer, squeezing Thor’s hand, “You can tell me more about it, if you’d like,” his delicate fingers rub slowly across Thor’s skin, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Thor agrees. He already feels lost in those soulful eyes— a silent plea to give this man the world. His scent is alarmingly sweet, addictive. If Thor didn’t know better, he would think that the young Omega was in heat.

But Tony Stark would never let his Omega socialize with other Alphas if that were the case.

“So what do you think, Alpha,” Peter purrs, batting his eyelashes, “wanna take me up on it?"

This feels... wildly inappropriate and suggestive. Thor tries to slide away and avoid the Omega’s advances, but he’s quickly cornered against the arm of the couch with a lap full of Peter.

“Oh... oh, I don’t...”

“Didn’t my Alpha tell you why you’re here, Thor?"

His name sounds like sin coming from those sweet lips, and Peter shifts in a way that has Thor making a very dignified, manly squeak.

“T-to meet his Omega, while he’s away...”

Peter is still squeezing his hand, and uses his other to card a few fingers through Thor’s beard, tilting his head in admiration. “And I thought you agreed? Didn’t my dad fill you in on the details?”

“Your... no,” Thor shakes his head, trying to move the squirmy Omega off his lap, and sighing in frustration when he holds on tight, “No, I haven’t spoken to your father yet.”

“Oh.” Peter pouts, finally letting himself be moved. His perfect skin, porcelain and soft, warps into a frown, and Thor finds himself pulling the Omega closer to pet his hair. He hates seeing such a pretty Omega so sad, and rumbles comfortingly when Peter starts to sniffle. “I’m sorry then. I didn’t know that you didn’t want me.”

Thor feels so confused, but he places a light kiss on the boy’s hair anyways, “I’m sure there’s no one in the world who wouldn’t want you, darling Omega.”

“Then... does that mean you want me, Alpha?"

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Peter looks determined, and grabs Thor’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me get my dad, and we can iron things out.”

Oh, gods no. “I don’t think...” Thor tries to protest, but the Omega is up and off the couch in a flash, sprinting out of the room and leaving Thor in a heap of confusion.

He has no idea what Peter’s father will say, but it’s almost certain he’ll refer to the Alpha’s judgment— the judgment of Peter’s mate— before just letting Peter drape himself over another man.

Actually, on second thought, it might be best for Peter’s father to step in.

Standing to his feet, Thor’s surprised when Peter bursts back into the room, smiling timidly, with an annoyed Tony following behind him.

“Okay,” Peter chirps, coming to a stop next to Thor and motioning to Tony, “I brought my daddy. Can you two just talk it out?”

Thor stutters, “D-daddy? I... okay,” he’s definitely heard that term for a partner, but it’s still a surprise, so he turns to Tony, “I don’t... I don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Stark.”

Tony waves him off and turns to look at Peter, “Do you like him, Pete?"

“Yeah, Alpha,” Peter gives him a wink, “I like him a lot. He’s big.”

With a chuckle, Tony loops an arm around Peter, pulling him close. Are they really... are they considering...

“I didn’t think you would be apt to share, Anthony.”

“Share?” Tony and Peter exchange a look, “No, Thor. I don’t share. Was it not clear? Peter would be yours.”

“I think I need a drink.”

Thor sits back down on the couch, rubbing his head where he feels the beginning of a migraine setting in. His? Over all his years, he has never heard of an Alpha just giving away their Omega like this.

As he thinks about it, a spark of rage ignites inside his chest, “What type of Alpha are you, Stark?”

“Excuse me?” Tony’s eyes are wide, and Peter looks offended.

With an amused laugh, Thor gestures between them, “You would just give up your Omega to a random Alpha?”

“... well, not random...”

“I need to talk to his father about this. He should be aware of how careless you’re being with his son.”

There’s a pause. Tony crosses his arms, “Alright, wise ass. Tell me exactly what I should be doing with my son.”

“Dad, I don’t think...” Peter steps in, and it suddenly clicks.

Oh.

By Odin’s fucking beard.

“Peter Stark.”

Peter looks to him, “Yes?”

Oh.

“And your father is...”

“Me.” Tony says, frown deepening, “Who did you think he was?”

Thor sighs, scrubbing his face. “All I knew was that you wanted me to meet your Omega. I had assumed you meant your Omega mate.”

Another pause. And suddenly Peter is exhaling sharply, smiling, and then breaking down into heaving laughter, holding his stomach. Both Thor and Tony smile, enjoying the sweet Omega’s amusement.

“Oh god,” Peter wheezes, wiping tears out of his eyes, “I’m so sorry Thor, you must be so confused, poor Alpha.”

He sinks down onto the couch next to Thor, settling a hand on his shoulder and wiggling closer. Peter still scents so sweet— joyous laughter just adding to his already gentle Omega scent. Thor looks up to Tony for help, and the other Alpha just shakes his head.

“I thought you knew about Western mating procedures, but I shouldn’t have assumed that, so it’s my bad. My invitation— our invitation— was for you to court Peter and, if he chooses you, join him for his first heat.”

Peter ducks his face, hiding it in Thor’s shoulder, while his scent blooms with embarrassment. The young Omega murmurs, “Daddy says you’re the best Alpha for me, and I wanted to see for myself.” His eyes are wide as they peer, beseechingly, up into Thor’s face, “and I like you a ton, Thor. Offer’s still on the table.”

He feels confused still, but Thor’s focus is set dead ahead. He knows what his answer will be before he gives it— this Omega, with all his beauty and complications, has to be his.

“Tell me what I need to do, and it’s yours, Omega.”

At his words, Peter sways a bit, leaning on him fully as his scent shifts, this time more aroused and interested than embarrassed. It’s alluring and Thor can’t look away.

Tony clears his throat, “We were both prepared for you to take him back to New Asgard at the end of the week, if you end up choosing each other as mates. Let’s talk more later— I need to get back to the call Peter yanked me from, and I’ll leave you to... mingle.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, hiding his face again as Tony heads for the exit, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. Thor, at a loss for words, just pets the Omega’s hair, enjoying the soft weight of his body, how easily they fit together.

Peter is easily only a fraction of his size, yet their compatibility is almost flawless. Two pieces of a puzzle, stars circling in the night.

“Are you gonna mate me, Alpha?” Peter whispers. His voice is timid and unsure, and Thor gives him a soft smile, hoping his scent is reassuring as well.

He turns them both so that the Omega can lounge across his chest, making sure his hands are above the generous swell of his ass. Thor takes a deep breath and begins to rumble, coaxing Peter to join him in a steady purr.

It’s been a long time since he’s had an Omega purr for him.

“If you’d like, Peter. It would be my honor to mate you, to be your Alpha.”

“My Alpha,” Peter hums, closing his eyes and snuggling further into Thor’s arms, “I’d like that a lot.”

Thor can’t help but agree.

[yuusa]

⟡ 十二 | 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑭𝑳𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑶𝑲, scanning through your notes as you tried to pass time. Earlier in the day, Makoto suggested that you and Yuki meet up at the Student Council Room to help count the funds received during the Culture Festival. 

You sighed underneath your breath, tapping the tip of your pen against the table. Even though Makoto was supposed to be here with you, he decided to leave once you arrived to talk with Motoko. You thought that their relationship spanned more than just an obsession with Yuki. The idea of having them both together in the same room as the grey-haired boy gave you a migraine. 

Yuki was also supposed to be here, but apparently, he had to stay back to finish some class duties. This meant that you were sitting alone in the council room trying to pass time. As you finished revising your notes, feeling a bit proud of your handwriting, you heard a knock on the door. 

“The door is unlocked,” you comment, setting down your pen. You watched as the sliding door slowly opened, revealing a slightly tall, dark-brown-haired boy. He had a small smile on his face as he gave you a small wave. 

“Sorry to bother you (L/n)-san, I was just looking for you,” he said, his smile growing wider as he closed the door behind him. You pressed your lips together, tilting your head towards him. You realized that he was most likely from another class as your memory of his name was close to nonexistent. Although you were the Class Representative and one of Makoto’s picks for the next year’s Student Council, you were never able to get the names of everyone in your grade. 

“Is there anything you need?” You questioned, giving him a closed-eye smile as his cheeks turned a slight pink color. He scratched the back of his neck anxiously, almost struggling with his words as his smile became more nervous. He began to sweat as he tried to focus his gaze on you.

“W-Well. . . I just wanted to talk to you about something. Could you hear me out?” He asked, his cheeks becoming hotter by the second. You looked at him with a confused expression, almost oblivious to his intentions. 

“Sure, what would you like me to hear?” You stacked together the papers in a neat pile, “I can always send your requests to President Takei if you would like.”

“N-No, I just wanted to talk to you. . .” He began to sweat more but he stiffened his muscles, trying to muster up the courage to tell you the truth. 

“I just. . . I wanted to tell you that I think you’re an amazing person!” He clenches his fists as he pressed his lips together, “You always work hard for the Student Council even though you’re just a representative. . . and you turn in a lot of papers on time! When people need you, you’re always there to help fill in the work. . .”

“I notice that you don’t get the same amount of credit as Sohma Yuki, but I think that you’re a lot better than him!” He adds, causing your cheeks to fade into a pink color.

“You’re kind and you always try to support others. You make the best food in Home Economics and when you smile. . . it looks good on you!” 

You stared at him in shock as he continued speaking, his eyes shutting themselves, “Even though you’re not as popular as Sohma-san, you never let it get to you! You’re strong in your ways and you always use it to help other people in need.”

From behind the closed door, a grey-haired student dropped his hand from the handle. He stared into the window at the back of the boy’s head, watching as your muscles stiffened. He raised his hand to grip at the side of his arm, lowering his gaze slightly as his eyes stared at the scene in front of him. The tension and environment felt so much like a typical romance scene and it made him feel. . . slightly worried. He bit the bottom of his lip, his nails burrowing themselves into the side of his arm. 

“I’ve always liked that about you. . . I’ve liked you since the start of the school year! So. . . I would like it if you would go out with me.” 

You blinked several times in surprise. You’ve never met this boy or talked to him before, and yet he was already confessing to you. The situation felt. . . awkward and tense. You pressed your lips together in a nervous frown. The atmosphere was pressuring you into accepting his proposal out of kindness, but you would just be lying to yourself. 

What was there to like about you? You thought, tightening your grip on your hands as you struggled to find your words. Everything he described you felt so out of place, so different from who you were on the inside. It didn’t sound like he was talking about you. He must have fallen in love with the personality you wanted to create. His confession weighed heavily on your heart. You weren’t that kind and yet he kept rambling about how much he liked you. It felt uncomfortable. 

You pressed your thumb against the edge of your hand, “I. . . I’m not interested in dating someone right now. I’m sorry. I can’t accept your confession.” 

You watched as his expression fell, the joy and happiness that his eyes carried were wiped away by your words. His attitude quickly changed from hopeful to disappointed. He folded his arms and took a step back, his eyes staring down at his shoes. “Do you. . . like someone else?” 

His voice cracked a bit as he fought back small tears, “You like Sohma-san don’t you?”

The grey-haired boy stiffened, tightening his fists. He frowned at the boy’s accusations, finding it strangely untrue. He pressed his back against the wall next to the door, listening to the dark-haired boy continue speaking. 

He looked up to you with a broken expression, his eyes trying to focus on you, “I’ve always had a feeling that maybe you were interested in him. . . You’ve been talking to him more often this year so. . .”

“I was hoping that I would have a chance but. . . it seems like Sohma-san beat me to it!” His laugh was fake, his words trembling as much as his hands as he turned away from you. You felt your heart clench and swell with pain. Your eyes softened at him as you reached out with your hand but slowly dropped it. “I guess I got rejected. . . It’s fine! You must be pretty busy right now so I’ll get out of your hair! Thanks for listening to me (L/n)-san!” 

Before you could stop him from leaving, he already threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him. You silently gulped, a hurt expression forming on your face as you slowly dropped back down to your seat. You ran your (s/c) hand through your hair, squeezing and pulling on it as you bit down on your lip in frustration. You wanted to tell him that you and Yuki were just friends, but he unexpectedly ran out of the door before you could get a single word out.

As you stayed stationary at your seat, the dark-haired boy stared at Yuki, the two of them making eye contact. The boy’s eyes were slightly teary, the edges of them were also red, presumably from him scratching. He quickly snapped his head away from him, refusing to look at Yuki for any longer as he quietly walked through the halls. The grey-haired boy frowned, standing outside of the door as he stared down at the floor. 

If you were to like him. . . what would he do? 

The thought of it made him bite the bottom of his lip, the pieces of his heart becoming slightly swollen as his hands trembled. He didn’t want to think about it, and neither did you. The two of you were locked in two separate worlds, barely overlapping each other at the center. He didn’t want you to like him. He squeezed his arm as his eyes quivered. He didn’t want you to like him. . . He wouldn’t be able to handle it. . . 

. . . But what if you did?

He shook his head, trying to erase those thoughts as he slowly slid open the door. You were leaning over your notebook, your pen still tapping against the table but your legs shook anxiously. He carefully walked closer to you, forcing a smile on his face. 

“Good afternoon (L/n)-san,” Yuki greeted, standing in front of you as he smiled. You looked up from your notebook, dropping your pen down as he tilted his head towards you. “Sorry for having you wait for me.

He let out a small hum as he tilted his head slightly to the side, giving you an innocent expression, “Did you do anything over the weekend?” He asked, trying to strike a small conversation with you.

You looked up at him with an expression of surprise and confusion. You don’t remember Yuki greeting you this late into the day. There was something about him that felt slightly different. His grey eyes looked much more anxious than they were the other day. He slowly dropped his arm to his side, pulling up a chair across from you. You weren’t sure if your eyes were lying to you or not, but he looked somewhat somber today. 

“What do you mean?” You stared at him with a bewildered look before catching yourself, “A-Ah, you meant the other day. I spent the weekends’. . .” You trailed off. You darted your eyes away from him as he stood there patiently.

You pressed your lips together apprehensively, a small bead of sweat forming at the base of your neck as you glanced away from him. Would it be weird if you told him that you did nothing over the weekend? It feels like he was expecting an interesting answer like, ‘I went to an amusement park!’ or ‘I went out with my friends for karaoke!’ You internally groaned at your thoughts, looking back at them in disgust. If you were to talk about something he didn’t know, would it make the conversation awkward? You nervously began blinking multiple times as he looked back at you, still anticipating your answer

You let out an anxious chuckle. “The weekends’. . . er. . .” You nervously scratched the side of your cheek, “studying?”

He gave you an amused smile, laughing slightly at your nervous tone, “You spent the entire weekend studying?”

“T-That’s right,” you forced a smile, “I wanted to make sure I memorized everything before our next test.”

“You’ve always been hardworking,” he comments, squeezing the side of his arm as he looked at you with his grey eyes. He quietly stared at you, watching as you continued working through your papers. 

You had this strange, dull appearance in your eyes. Although they were quite beautiful, they held very little light, almost as if you were cloaked in an aura of despair. He wondered if the boy’s confession from earlier dampened your mood. 

He brushed through his grey locks of hair, silently staring at you. Even though his trip to the inn with Tohru and his family was supposed to be somewhat relaxing, he couldn’t shake off his thoughts about you. You’ve only talked for around a week and yet he had this strange desire to know you better. Even though you called each other friends, you still referred to each other with the same classroom respectfulness. You would still talk stiffly with him, your body becoming slightly fidgety and tense. There was this aura of distance that he could feel by just simply being near you. He wondered if the distant look you had was his projection.

. . . “You’re kind and you always try to support others. You make the best food in Home Economics and when you smile. . . it looks good on you!” 

You stared at him in shock as he continued speaking, his eyes shutting themselves, “Even though you’re not as popular as Sohma-san, you never let it get to you! You’re strong in your ways and you always use it to help other people in need.”

He pressed his lips together, his smile faltering. The muted (e/c) colors in your eyes sent shivers down his spine. You’ve always been quite cool to him. You drew back the strands of (h/c) hair from your face, your rosy lips glistening underneath the light as you diligently worked. He silently gawked at you, capturing your figure in his mind. 

You looked cool, he thought. You always had this aura of calmness and professionalism in public. He has rarely seen you lose your cool and it made him slightly envious. Unlike Kyo who was constantly unaware of his surroundings, you seemed too aware of it. You would lower your voice and raise it when the tides called for it. However, you seldom backed down from a challenge. This was one of your smaller traits that he noticed about you. Even when you had several proposals for a Cooking Contest in Home Economics, you never once declined their offers. Perhaps it was just your pride giving you the confidence but he found that endearing about you. Although, he wasn’t the only one who thought the same things. 

Your eyes softened slightly, your thoughts overwhelmed by doubt and frustration. He shined so brilliantly that you wondered if it was worth standing by his side in class. Everything he does looks so clean and precise. He was calculative at times of the day. His posture was slightly relaxed in the face of danger. The more you listed all the good things about him, it only made you feel even more inferior to him. You lowered your gaze, focusing too hard on your thoughts. You knew better than anyone else that you were resistant to change. Several years of the same nightmare, the same routine, the same speech, and thoughts. . . 

You were so boring, you thought.

You frowned as you glanced up at Yuki, his eyes drawn towards the window. His lips were softly tinted with pink while his eyelashes were long and slightly curled. There was something about the way he brushed through his grey locks of hair that made you feel awkward inside. How could someone be so attractive? You asked yourself. You flinched in realization, were you falling for Yuki? You internally shook your head, trying to get those thoughts away from you. You didn’t want to believe in the boy’s words but they were creeping up on you, burying themselves into the back of your mind. You tilted your head up at him, your frown growing deeper. 

You didn’t like Yuki in that way. It would be selfish of you to like him. You nervously tapped your pen against the desk. You wouldn’t describe this feeling you have towards Yuki as something related to love. It felt more bitter and disappointing, almost like a rotten apple. 

You sighed underneath your breath, already knowing the true answer to your thoughts. You knew that instead of feeling love or attraction towards the boy, you felt a bit envious of him at his natural beauty and charisma. He hardly had any noticeable flaws on the outside and he was always ready to help others in need, perhaps even more often than you had in your entire life. These bitter thoughts swarmed your head, polluting your mind and distracting you from the current situation. 

You exhaled, trying to slow your breathing and relax your shoulders. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention away, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek, feeling it heat up against your skin. 

“I think you’re quite cool (L/n)-san,” Yuki commented, resting his chin against the back of his hand as he pulled out his notes. “You always seem to know what to say and do.”

“Y-You’re too nice Sohma-san.” You responded, tucking the strand of hair behind your ear. A small frown appeared on your face as he began to write into his notes. You mumbled underneath your breath, a bitter taste forming on the tip of your tongue, “. . . I’m sure that you met a lot of people like that.”

“But, it’s true. You’ve always been so calm and collected,” Yuki’s eyes softened as you tighten your grip on your pencil. 

“You’re good at Home Economics as well. I’m not very good at handling things in the kitchen or cleaning up but you make it look so easy.” He slowly closed his eyes, pausing his writing, “To be honest. . . It makes me feel a bit envious.”

“That’s. . . That’s not true.” You stopped writing, your nails burrowing themselves into the plastic shell of your pencil as your (e/c) eyes trembled. You could feel your cheeks become hotter as you stared down at your writing. “I’m. . . Those things. . . are so small and useless. . .” 

“They aren’t as important,” You add, “if anyone is cool. . . It would be you.” 

“. . . I’m jealous of you Sohma-san,” You whispered, lowering your gaze as he tightened his grip around his arm. “I’m. . . jealous.” 

“When you talk in front of everyone, you look intimidating and cool. You have this nice aura around you and you’re kind to everyone. It makes me feel like I'm just not good enough for someone as nice as you.” 

Yuki winced, his eyes drawn to your speaking figure, “You make everything look so easy and effortless. . . When you fill out council papers you always look so focused and whenever you turn work in, it sounds really good. You rarely go to tutoring and you’re always willing to help everyone else when they struggle.”

“You smile a lot to your other classmates. . . but. . .” You stopped yourself for a moment, “it looks like a facade to your classmates.” 

“You say that you’re happy. . . even though you look so. . . lonely.” His eyes widened as you parted your lips. His smile and eyes remind you so much of yourself, it hurts. It hurts so much to think that there is someone in this world so undeserving of pain and deprived of love that it makes you sick inside. Your body began to tremble slightly, your lips quivered as you struggled to find the right words. 

“Even though you’re cool on the outside. . . you're a warm person inside, you must care a lot about people you love.”

Yuki could see the small tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, noticing how you tried to hide the faint sight of weakness. You bit the bottom of your lip, feeling slightly exposed at the moment. Your eyes widened as you turned to him, realizing that you blurted out your imaginative thoughts. He stared back at you with slightly tinted cheeks as you quivered under his gaze, feeling extremely embarrassed in the situation.

Yuki pressed his hand against his cheek, feeling the temperature rise as he repeated the scene of you talking in his head. He never had anyone tell him that he was cool, genuinely cool in the way he wanted to be seen. . . You looked really cute when you blushed. He quickly shook his head, ridding himself of those strange thoughts and trying to focus on what's in front of him. It was wrong of him to think of these things about you, especially after what happened just a few minutes prior. 

“I-I see. . .” He stuttered, his ears turning slightly pink. 

“A-Ah! I-I meant!” You stuttered, raising yourself from your seat as your cheeks became flushed with humiliation, “I meant. . .” You trailed off, looking down at your trembling hands. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts you have forgotten to be more aware of your surroundings. You thought Yuki had said that in your mind and this was all just an imagination, but it was real and you just blurted out something embarrassing. You could taste the bitterness spread across the length of your tongue, coating the top as you remembered your earlier experience. You could feel your heart begin to tighten. The guilt that had formed earlier was slowly seeping into your bones, spreading itself across your body as your shoulders slacked. 

You stopped yourself when you felt his hand brush against the small droplet. He wiped away the tears, smiling at you with a soft expression. You felt your cheeks grow hotter, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat as you looked at him with your trembling (e/c) eyes. 

“You look really cute when you’re embarrassed,” He comments, smiling at you, “It brings back memories to the first time you came to our house.” 

“H-Hah. . .” You chuckled, darting your eyes away from him as you sat back down, “You like to tease other people don’t you. . .”

His smile became wider, “Maybe it’s just with you.” 

“But. . .” Yuki started, letting the small droplet of water fade from his skin, “you're a warm person too.”

You dropped your pen, your mind drawing itself farther away from reality as it rolled itself off of the desk. Your (e/c) eyes shook as you stared at him, his grey eyes giving you the same look of understanding and comfort. His expression sent shivers down your spine.

[slowpoke-fics]

Migraine

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean x reader, platonic Sam x Reader

Summary: reader is scared to let the boys in and tell them about the chronic migraines she suffers from, after a hunt the truth comes out and you're shocked with how they respond

Warnings: smut, no a too whole lot, two paragraphs on 3000 words, nothing too triggering I think, medicine, as always, I might have missed something read at your o w n risk

A/N: It might be a little long, tbh I dont know what a long/short fic looks like but it's def one I could've split and didn't. I really enjoyed writing this one, am having a little bit of a block after writing six fics in a day. shout out to my first smut in at least five years.

You had been hunting with Sam and Dean for a couple of months, finally feeling like you had earned your place. You didn't feel comfortable letting them know your weaknesses, which is why you didn't tell them you had migraines. You were able to cover for the most part, hiding it from the family you've come to know quite well. Most of the time. Sometimes you just couldn't, the pain overbearing and you just had to stay in bed all day, "It's just cramps." You lied to the boys, who assumed that you were covering your face and curled up like a child because of your embarrassment and pain. Sooner or later they will find out, and that's just what happened on this witch hunt.

You were the first one back into the motel, just wanting to lie down, Sam and Dean following suit. Dean slammed the door, causing you to jump with a jolt of pain to your head, reminding you of the already particularly bad headache you had. Thank god you'd be home soon. You went into the bathroom, wanting to shower after a long day of hunting the witch down, turning the lights off as you shut the door, you sighed, the pain growing. You turned the shower on, making it just a little warm, undressing and sitting down, putting your knees close to yourself, held together by your crossed arms with your head on your knees just enjoying the relief the water brings you.

You must've lost track of time because the next thing you hear is Dean, pounding on the bathroom door, basically screaming, "Y/n, damn, we want hot water!" You groaned, "Fuck off Dean! I'll be out in a minute," you shouted, much harsher than you wanted. You heard Dean grumble but couldn't understand it. Ignoring him, you finished washing your body, head already hurting bad enough it was too much to have to stand and wash, worried you might puke if you moved around more than you needed.

You came out of the shower, laying on the bed, closing your eyes, waiting to leave when you heard Sam speak up. "Did you get hurt and not tell us?" You rolled your eyes, then rose up and looked at Sam. "What?" You were confused, why would you not tell them if you got hurt? You looked over your body for any marks as Dean spoke, "Why else would you take so damn long?" You glared at him, "Sorry, I guess I won't enjoy my showers anymore." You laid back down, Dean looked at you with a pang of guilt you didn't see. He was just, in his own way, trying to check on you.

When both Sam and Dean had showered, you packed up your stuff, not caring if you left anything behind, you led out the door, crawling into the backseat of the impala. As you started rolling out, you realized it was going to be a long trip when the first wave of nausea hit you. Leaning into the window, enjoying the cold, you closed your eyes, knowing sleep would not come.

About two hours into the trip back to the bunker, after not saying a single word, you finally spoke up. "Dean," he looked at you through the rearview mirror, "pull the car over, Sam you gotta let me out." Dean was a little shocked, "What," he said quickly. "Pull the car over, before I hurl in your baby." At that, the car near immediately stopped, Sam quickly allowing you to get out. Almost as soon as your foot hit the ground, before you were even all the way out of the car, vomit spewed from your mouth. Sam was rubbing your back, not sure why you were sick, as you'd never gotten car sick.

Dean got out of the car, circling it to come to your side, worry written all over his face. Dean replaced Sam, Dean whispering something to him that you couldn't hear over the splashing on the road. You heard the car door shut, and felt Dean pull your hair back. Once you were done, Dean, helping you raise up, asked, "What's going on?" You looked at him, worry still plastered on his face.

"Nothing, I just got car sick," still feeling like you could throw up, you took a deep breath. The pain of your headache intensified by the fit. Dean laughed a little, "You've never gotten car sick in your life," shaking his head and adding, "I mean," down to a whisper, "are you pregnant?" You had to laugh a little, regretting as pain soared through your head, "No, Dean, why would you even ask that?"

"Well, in the same night you take an hour longer showering than you usually do and vomit on the side of the road." He smirked, reminiscing, "I mean after our encounter a couple of months ago-" You had to interrupt him, "We fucked once, I also recall telling you I was on birth control." Dean chuckled, "What can I say? I've got strong swimmers." Smug son of a bitch. "I'm not, can we please just go home? I got car sick, it happens."

Dean got very serious, "Not until you tell me what's going on, I'm worried now." Silently panicking, afraid that if you told them you had chronic migraines they'd think you couldn't go on hunts and you'd be alone again, but really not wanting him to worry, you finally spoke up, "It's just a migraine." Dean's face contorted in confusion, "A migraine? Since when do you get migraines?" You looked away from him, toward the trees lining the side of the road, "They're chronic, I've had them for years." Deans face softened, he reached for his passenger door and opened it for you, allowing you to crawl in.

"You all right?" Sam spoke from the backseat, thankful you didn't have to crawl back there again. You just nodded, bringing your knees to your chest and lying back against the window with your eyes closed. Dean started the car and after a few minutes he couldn't keep his mouth shut, "Why didn't you just tell us?" Sam didn't say anything, also wanting to know why this was such a big deal for you to keep a secret.

You took a sharp breath in, not moving a muscle, not even looking at them, "I was afraid you'd tell me I couldn't hunt with you guys anymore." Dean looks at sam through the rearview, the guilt on Sams face matching his own, "We would never-" Dean gripped the wheel a little tighter, "We would have worked around them, so you can be home when they're this bad. It wouldn't be puking on the side of the road horrible." Dean shook his head, reaching across to you to rub your arm, you looked at him, and he jerked his head in a come here motion. You did as you were told, starting to scoot over, he redirected your movements so your head was in his lap. His fingers running through your hair, his hand finding the back of your neck apply just a tiny bit of pressure right at the base of your skull, rubbing up and down softly, alleviating some of the pain, somehow letting you sleep the remaining trip.

When you woke up Sam was already out of the car, Dean opening your door you sleepily sat at the edge of the seat, head throbbing. Putting your hand on your forehead, elbow on the back of his bench seat, eyes still closed, you felt Dean pull your hands to his neck. "No," you jerked back, eyes filled with tears at how bad the morning light was making you feel, "I can walk." Dean huffed, "Shut up and let me carry you." You resigned and put your arms around his neck, laying your head in the crook of his neck, loving how he smelled.

You noticed as he carried you in, every single light that could be out, was. Sam must've done that for you. Opening the door to his room, you started to protest, "Shhh," he gently laid you on the bed and pulled the covers up for you, "just let me." Dean left the room, you're not sure where, but there was a pang of sadness in your chest, wanting to be near him. He came back and placed a cool rag on the back of your neck and one on your forehead, he touched your lips, slowly dragging his thumb over your lips, speaking softly, "Open up, let this pill dissolve on your tongue okay? It might be a little nasty, but it'll help." You took the pill, as it started to dissolve you scrunched up your face at the nasty taste, causing Dean to chuckle.

Dean headed to he door, it was now or never, "Will-" you started and your voice broke a little, you're not sure out of embarrassment or pain, "will you stay?" Dean smiled at you, coming to the side of the bed, crawling under the covers with you, "As long as you want me." You rolled over to him, laying your head on his chest as he put his arm around you. He started playing with your hair, running his fingers up and down your arm.

You wanted to be able to properly enjoy this, but your head hurt so bad. After about fifteen minutes you couldn't help but cry, silently, wanting the headache to go away. Dean noticed, feeling his damp shirt, he didn't say anything, just kissed your head. "They're not normally this bad," you sniffled, "I can usually push through them." Dean started rubbing your back, knowing how nervous you were to tell them, not really understanding why you'd believe they would say you couldn't hunt with them. "Y/n," he contemplated on what to say.

"You don't have to hide anything from us, you don't have to push through them, if you're in pain it's okay, we all have our faults, you don't ever have to be afraid that we'd tell you to leave. You're our family now, we need you. I need you." Your heart skipped a beat, did he really need you? In what way does he need you? "What do you mean?" Dean had to admit it, had to come clean, now or never.

"I don't mean just hunts," you looked up at him, shocked, tear stained eyes which broke his heart. He gently cupped your face, leaning forward and bringing his lips to yours, you instantly responded, pressing into the kiss, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, he pulled back, "God you taste better than ever." You laughed, laying your head back down, "Okay, I understand." He couldn't do chick flic, it was hard enough for him to say he needed you, but he needed you to know.

Sam came in, replacing your rags, "You want some more medicine?" You nodded, pushing your hand on Dean's chest so he knew he couldn't get up. "Sammy, she'd love that but doesn't want me to get up." Sam laughed, your cheeks flushing, "No problem, Y/n." Dean placed his hand on yours, "I feel like a bath might help, I can run you one." You shrugged, "lotta work." Dean copied your shrug, "Not really, just gotta start the water and put the bubbles in." You instantly responded, talking over him, "Not you, me," you pause and lifted your head to looked at him, eyebrow cocked, "bubbles? I don't have bubbles?" Dean laughed heartily, "Not you, me. My bubbles and my work, I'll do it all, nothing I ain't seen before." He winked at you, smug bastard. You laid your head back down on his chest, shrugging again.

Sam came back, Dean lifting his hand up to take the medicine from Sam as you lifted yourself up and grabbed the cup from him, "It's coffee, it might help." You couldn't turn to face him, didn't want to, "Thank you so much." Sam smiled, but you couldn't see, "Of course, anything." You heard the door close softly as you took your place back on Dean, resting the cup on his chest.

After a few minutes after you had taken the medicine, Dean slid from underneath you, taking the coffee cup, causing you to groan in displeasure. Dean chuckled, and headed toward the bathroom. Once in there he lit a singular candle, started the water, and put the bubbles in. Coming back to you he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you move your limbs to where they needed to be.

He sat you down on the bathroom sink, while he took his shirt off you removed your own. He reached behind you, unclasping your bra and pulling it off you. Dean wanted to tell you how gorgeous you were, wanted to touch you, but he knew you were more than not up for it. He knows when to be respectful and when to be downright filthy. You slid off the counter, you pushed your pants down, just enough so they could effortlessly fall off of you.

Dean stepped into the tub first, holding his hand out to you. You happily took it, just wanting to lie back down. Dean put your back to him, wrapping an arm around you he slunk to the ground, water splashing lightly. He pulled you back to him, allowing you to lay your head back on him. His fingers found their way to your scalp, applying a small amount of pressure, taking some of your pain. You had no idea that the Dean Winchester could be this, soft.

You just laid there with Dean, letting the water sooth you, letting Dean make this better. You couldn't think, just lay. You don't know how long you laid there, laid in complete silence with Dean taking care of you. "Do you want me to touch you?" Dean spoke, barely loud enough that you could hear him, you hummed, wordlessly asking what he meant. "I did some research while we were in the bed, lots of women have said that masturbating can seriously help." Still speaking softly, making sure that you weren't going to get overstimulated. You thought for a minute, all the times that you had touched yourself in hopes for the pain to lessen-all the times it worked. "Mhmm." Dean just continued rubbing your scalp, "Say it." A twinge of need pooled inside you, "Touch me Dean, I want it."

Dean needed no further encouragement, he needed to know this is what you wanted, needed you to admit it. He wasted no time, slowly working his hands to your nipples, fingers teasing, tickling their way to touch you. He twirled your nipples between his thumb and index finer, gently pulling them up, eliciting a whimper from you. "Don't worry good girl, I'm gonna make you feel better." Deans hands trailed to your waist, pulling you up a couple of inches, giving him better access.

Dean's right hand tiptoed to your clit, gently rubbing your bundle of nerves, rubbing circles until your hips bucked forward, wanting more. Dean's left hand moving to your lower stomach, resting lazily. You opened your eyes and stared into his eyes, a soft moan falling from your lips, "More." Dean smirked, quickly raising his left hand to push your head back, nonverbally communicating for you to rest, just enjoy this, then returning his hand to it's home.

Dean's thick fingers slid inside you with a thrilling stretch, you gasped, forgetting how good he filled you up. "Good girl, I know you can take it," Dean started to pump his fingers slowly, curling them upwards to hit just the right spot. "Mmmm," you hummed, almost singing, "please." Dean sped up, his fingers hitting your g-spot, palm rubbing your clit, you clenched tightly around him, slowing him down but making him damn near growl. You bucked your hips forward, panting, squeezing his wrist with one hand and grabbing the side of the tub with the other. "Gonna make you cum," Dean nipped your earlobe, a whimper. "Gonna show you that you need me," moved to your neck, a moan. "Gonna remind you what it feels like to gush around me," another nibble, another kiss. A desperate desire pooled in your belly, pussy clenching, clit throbbing. "You gonna cum for me? Cum on my fingers like a good girl?" Dean pressed his left hand down, the pressure sending you over the edge, you spasmed around his fingers, legs shaking, juices leaking out of you and into the tub. He let you ride it out, until your legs had calmed and you had stopped pulsating around his fingers. He moved his hands back to your scalp, continuing the previous scalp massage.

You tried to catch your breath, his thick cock resting between your legs, you could almost see it throb. You reached in-between your legs, starting to pump his cock but he moved your hand. "No," he kissed your lips, then your forehead, "once you're feeling better we can discuss it." You moved your hand to rest on his thigh, "can we just lay here a minute?" He hummed in approval, letting you close your eyes and enjoy the moment of bliss.

After awhile, you had almost fallen asleep, Dean started to get up, slowly dragging himself out of the tub careful not to disturb you too much. Once Dean had found the towel in the under lit room he reached his hand to you, helping you stand up. You stepped out of the tub, reaching for the towel but he pulls it just out of your reach. Dean sighs, "You may feel a little better but I still want to take care of you," starting to pat you dry, making sure to get the dripping tips of your beautiful hair, "I want to, please let me." You let him finish drying you off, let him slip his own shirt and boxers on you, wondering when he'd have gotten them. You even let him carry you back to his bed. Once he laid down, you were immediately beside him, filling the perfect spot next to him. "Sleep." He commanded, it was not a suggestion, and you did.

When you woke up, your back was facing Dean, his chest pressed to you, arm wrapped tightly around you like you'd run. You turned a little to look at his sleeping form, surprised when his eyes fluttered open, "Mornin', any better?" You turned towards him, placing your leg between his, your own arm underneath his and wrapped around him, "Manageable." You laid there, for how long you weren't sure. Eventually Dean spoke up, "We should go get some breakfast." You nodded, reluctantly rolling to the side of his bed, swinging your legs over.

You and Dean walked to the kitchen, Sam already cooking, hearing you cross the threshold into the kitchen he spun around. Upon realizing you guys had gotten up he immediately grabbed the coffee pot and filled up the cup sitting next to a few pills on the counter and creamer. You gently chuckled, "What a saint," you slapped Deans arm. "I told you," Dean started as you sat down and he moved to get his own cup of coffee, "we could've helped you manage."

You started fiddling your thumbs, not able to look at the boys, "I know-sigh-I was afraid, I'm sorry, I know it's dumb but-" looking to Dean, "I was afraid I'd be too much, lose the family I've come to love. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." Sam turned to you, pausing from the breakfast. "It's not dumb, Y/n. If you're hurting, if you're struggling, if you're afraid, we face it together, all three of us. Because you're right, we're family, and you belong here. Your problems are ours." Dean beside you now, hand placed on your back, thumb drawing small figure eight's, "We can help you, face anything this hellhole throws at us, stick together and say fuck it together," a kiss placed on your lips, pressing into you with loving force, "you just have to let me."

[artnigth]

Migraines Part 2

i made it!! Part 3 tomorrow BABY!! (probably) 

MIGRAINES PART 2: Raz was walking all the way back to the Questionable Area, more specifically his family’s camp in the campgrounds. It had been a long day, he agreed to cover Gisu’s afternoon shift since she apparently had an “appointment” or something. Norma and Lizzie kept pestering him to see if Gisu actually had a date of sorts, but he knew as much as they did on that topic so that fun little conversation went nowhere. He was finally able to go home and take a nap, he was ten after all (and very tired). “RAZPUTIN!” A scream coming from above breaking his line of thought. Raising his gaze, Raz saw just as Ford Cruller flew to the spot in front of him. The senior Psyconaut might have been very old, but after Raz had fixed his mind it seemed that the senior was back in his prime. “Your brother needs help.”- the tone of Cruller's voice was concerned but not surprised, neither was Raz. “What are you talking about?” “Your brother is lost in the forest and- “QUEEPIE GOT LOST IN THE FORGETFUL FOREST?!” “Your other brother Razputin. Dion, was it? He got lost in the forest and is having a Psychic overload.”- Ford’s tone was calm but a little tired. “Dion? Having a Psychic overload? No offense agent Cruller but Dion isn’t a Psychic. But I do believe he could have gotten lost in the forgetful forest. Let’s go tell my family to go and search for him.” Both of the Psychonauts ran all the way to the Aquato camp, encountering Agustus at the entrance. “Dad! Dion got lost on the Forgetful Forest, we need to go look for him!”- Raz was tired, his tone was halfhearted and kind of over the whole situation. Agustus’ eyes were wide, he stepped back a little at the sight of Ford Cruller. Ford stayed back for Agustus’ sake, he was clearly not over what had happened and Ford couldn’t blame him at all. “How did Dion get lost in the woods?”- Agustus decided to ignore Ford’s presence focusing on his middle son and the dilemma that had been put into focus. “So that’s where that boy is… His friend came here a couple of hours ago and both her, Frazie and your mother have been looking for him since.”- Agustus sounded tense, but neither of the Psychonauts minded. “Friend? Dion has friends?”- Raz was a little surprised but not too much. “Yeah, that was Frazie’s reaction as well. Let me call them, I’m pretty sure they’re gonna be happy to finally find out where he is.” . “HE WHAT?!”- Donatella did NOT sound happy about finding out where her oldest son had been all this time, scaring her children and husband even if just a little. Frazie, Donatella, Raz, Agustus, and Ford were now standing at the entrance of the Forgetful Forest, with Dion’s “friend” not being there yet. “UNBELIEVABLE. I THOUGHT WE HAD TAUGHT THAT BOY BETTER THAN TO GO INTO THE WOODS ALONE! IF YOU FOUND HIM WHY DIDN’T YOU DRAG HIM BACK, FORD?!”- Donatella kept rambling for a while her temper getting worse with each word. “That’s what I’m trying to explain, Dion seems to be having some sort of Psychic overload. His abilities being so overwhelming to his mind that he can’t control what he does. I had similar experiences when I was a young Psychic, everything was to much to deal with.”- Ford was still standing at a distance from the family, his voice calm but still concerned. “FRAZIE!! DID YOU FIND HIM?!”- a voice was heard from high into the sky. A figure suddenly falling from the sky on a skateboard and landing between Ford and the Aquatos. It was Gisu on top of her skateboard, who stepped off to be at the same level as everyone else. “Gisu?! Aren’t you supposed to be at an appointment??”- Razputin sounded ofended and blindsided. “Appoinment? I never said that.”- Gisu was clearly confused on that topic. “Adam said you had an appointment and that he needed someone to cover your shift, were you here all the time?” “Yeah… I just told Adam I was leaving early, I never said anything about an appointment.” “But… But… You know what, nevermind.”- Raz sounded defeated, Norma and Lizzie were right, and he hated to admit it. And a possible date with his brother out of all people, ugh. “So… did you found Dion, it’s been hours…” “Agent Ford did, Dion’s apparently having a psychic overload in the forest. So we are going to start a search party into the forest.”- Frazie’s tone was her typical sarcastic annoyance but concern was still heard as a shadow in her voice. “Ok, I’ll go high to try and spot him from above.”- Gisu sounded a little desperate to find Dion clearly concerned. But she was still her determined and confident self. She stepped on her skateboard and suddenly she was gone, flying into the sky. The rest of the Aquatos, and Ford separated into the forest to look for Dion. Raz and Ford went north, meanwhile, Donatella and Agustus went east, Frazie stayed back to look after the kids and just in case Dion found a way back to the camp. . . . . .

Gisu was hovering above the Forgetful Forest scanning the area below as well as she could. She was looking for that dorky acrobat that she had gotten to know for the past two months, wondering how could he had managed to hide this type of issue long enough to have such a breakdown. Throwing agent Ford from the middle of the woods all the way to the campgrounds wasn’t a small action, levitating someone that far was impressive for someone who has repressed their powers for as long as Dion has. Her thoughts were interrupted when she got close to losing her balance and falling. A force trying to push her away from an exact spot in the forest, a small clear in the forest where there was a boulder. Trees were being pushed so hard away from that spot that some were being uprooted from the ground. Carefully Gisu did her best to go as close as she could in her skateboard, eventually she had to descend to the ground since she couldn’t move forward anymore. Gisu moved forward slowly, every step felt like if she was pushing a boulder that was getting heavier and heavier with each step. By the time Gisu had gotten to the boundaries of the clear, she had to hold on to a tree or else she would have been thrown away. Looking at the boulder she could see a familiar figure sitting in front of it, with his knees covering his face and his hair being an unrecognizable mess. There was Dion, shaking and sobbing in front of that boulder. Gisu was stunned. What happened to him?! Is he okay?! “Dion?!”- Gisu’s voice echoed through clear, her tone concerned. “GO AWAY!”- Dion’s voice roared into Gisu’s ears, almost deafening the girl. “You need to calm down, you’re destroying the forest!” “GISU YOU NEED TO LEAVE, I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!”- misery emanated from the boy, in all of his seventeen years of life nothing like this had happened to him. He was terrified of himself and very much lost in his own despair. Gisu stabbed the ground with her skateboard, propelling herself forward and using said skateboard as a cane in order to get the closest she could to him.  Using her own telepathy she tried her best to counter the force of Dion’s own psychic energy. The closer she got, the stronger Dion’s energy became, it was crazy and she didn’t know how to handle it. “GISU LEAVE!” She kept walking onward taking no mind of Dion’s words, just a few more steps and she would reach him, but it felt as if he were miles away. “GISU, STOP!” Her strength wavered, all of his force suddenly focused on her alone. His mind was tormented by screams, guilt invaded his body. HE had thrown Ford Cruller into the sky. HE levitated an old man and threw him to oblivion. HE had killed Ford Cruller, all because of… because… “DION PLEASE LET ME HELP! I’VE SEEN THIS HAPPEN A MILLION TIMES BEFORE. YOU JUST NEED TO CALM DOWN AND BREATH!”- Her cries resonated through the clear, her skateboard started to crack under pressure, she needed to act as fast as she could. She increased the energy she was putting into protecting herself and she kept moving forward. Dion felt hopeless, he needed to get Gisu away or he would hurt her like he hurt Ford. “GISU, PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU TOO!” The whispers in his mind were long gone, replaced by screams of fury, guilt and fear. This time he knew all those voices were just him. HE was tormenting himself for what he had done, screaming into his mind until he broke and finally exploded. HE thought it was fair, he deserved to end like this. Not just for what he did to Ford but for how he treated Raz, how he annoyed Gisu with his stupid questions about psychics, how he treated the people around him, how he was bound to explode and no one, not even himself, could stop it from happening. But at least he would make sure to not take anyone down with him. Suddenly a soft sensation was felt on his shoulders, like a thin blanket. Dion looked up from his knees and there she was. Gisu holding on to her skateboard, her knuckles white from the effort. Her hair waving as if a storm was hitting her directly on her face. A soft smirk planted on her face. Her scarf missing from her shoulders and gently placed on his. Tears began to run down from his eyes, all the way to his chin. The pressure stopped, the screams wavered turning back into whispers and the world finally stopped spinning. Gisu took his hands and gently lifted them both to stand. Her hands were rough and cold from all of her mechanical projects with Otto, but for Dion they felt like a safe place, something he hadn’t felt from anyone ever since he was a child. “Let’s go back to the campgrounds your family is looking for you and it's getting dark.”- her voice was soft, a hint of relief on her tone. Dion nodded. They started walking out of the clear and reentering the forest. They had a long way back and Gisu knew it was better to hold her breath since the Aquato family were definitely going to have a rough night. END OF PART 2.

PART 1:

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Comes for me: Jasper Hale x My OC Fleur Swan, Chapter 4

Warnings: Moments of violence, cussing

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

 Sorry if you find anything misspelled or out of place. I proof read these chapters 3 times I still find things wrong with it.

“I'm alone, look at the sky, my dear. I am not every falling star make a wish every time I leave so we can love until infinity.” I'm Waiting Here by Lykke Li and David Lynch

One minute I was I sleeping with Jasper in my room and the next it seemed I was in a unfamiliar location. My movements were not at will, my feet pounded against the steel floor. It was as if I was chasing someone, I soon caught a glimpse of who it was. It looked like a security guard as I was running I noticed a sign on the wall “Grimsham.” Grimsham, that’s in Mason County. What am I doing in Mason County? Two men had ran ahead of me eager to catch the man. The two men looked unfamiliar to me, I was sure I had never seen them before. The security guard had made it outside just about to get out of the area when the man with long blonde hair caught him taking him down to the ground. They then began to feed on him, They were vampires that explained the speed. But why was I moving so fast though? My uncontrolled movements moved toward the man about to start feeding on him. It was then that I noticed that I was not in my body. My “hands” looked far to pale to be my own. Before I could see who the woman was I jumped up, gasping for air. I looked around the room, Jasper was gone. 

For once I was thankful about him not being there. I didn’t need him stressing out about something that I was a dream. I stretched and got up quickly getting ready for school as I slept in a bit too long. I went for a white lace long sleeved shirt and black jeans with the same ankle boots that I've owned for 4 years. I grabbed an apple since I didn’t have much time to eat. Just as I had closed the door I saw Bella slips on a big patch of ice. I held in a laugh wanting to be a little nicer today. I saw dad pull up in her truck and quickly help her up.

“Geez are you okay Bells?” He asked.

“Yeah, ice doesn’t exactly help the uncoordinated.” She replied.

“Well I put new tires on your truck since the old ones were getting pretty bald.” 

“Oh thanks dad.”

“I’ll put the chains on your tires tomorrow okay Petal?” 

“That’s fine dad, thank you.”

“I’m gonna be late for dinner today. I’ll be working overtime.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, a security guard  that works at Grimsham Mills down in Mason county got attacked by some animal.” He explained.

“Oh.” Was all I could say. My heart dropped down into my stomach I didn’t know what else to say. This couldn’t have been a coincidence, no way it couldn’t of been. But, I wasn’t a vampire how could I have predicted this. My mind was racing. Dad seemed to have noticed my distant look on my face.

“Are you okay Petal? You’re looking kinda pale there.” He asked

“Oh yeah I’m fine sorry my mind wandered. Be careful down there dad.” I replied.

“Yeah be careful dad.” Bella said.

“I always am. love you guys.”

“Love you too.”

These past few days have been pretty tense. Bella was of course on even more edge than usual as Edward hadn’t been showing up to school. Every time I pulled into the back of the lot and joined the rest of the Cullens I could feel Bella’s eyes burn at the back of my skull. I didn’t dare to look back, thinking I might combust into flames if I even glanced at her for a second. 

Today seemed to be one of those days. Jasper and I began to walk up the stairs toward the school. He suddenly stopped and turned around glaring back at her. Bella faltered and turned around quickly, seemingly intimidated by his harsh glare.

“You didn’t have to do that you know that right? I can handle my bony twin sister.”

“I felt like I had to darlin, her emotions were starting to give me a migraine.” 

“Aww, I’m sorry love.” I said I then pecked his lips.

“Edwards suppose to be back to though right?”

“Yes, he is he’s just running late.”

“Oh okay. Maybe him being back will calm her down.”

“Hopefully, now come on, we have a history test to take.”

“Ugh, why would you remind me about that now I got a migraine.” I said.

He chuckled before dragging me to class. As much as I wanted to focus on my test I just couldn’t. That dream kept filling my head after every questions I read. 

“Who was America named after?”

“Where is the Hudson River located at?”

“Name differences between federalist and anti-federalist.”

I just couldn’t formulate a full answer without drifting back to the dream. The three people ravaged that poor security guard and I was in one of those monsters bodies. Am I connected to them in someway or was this really just a dream? For my sanity and racing heart I just came to the conclusion it was. I just barely finished that history test before the time had run out. I finally lifted my head to see Jasper looking at me, worry etched all over his chiseled face. I couldn’t be helping his migraine at all. I grabbed his hand and led him out of the classroom. English and Calculus went by quickly and I was soon back at lunch. Bella hadn’t been glaring at me from across the room today. Jasper must’ve of scared her a bit. It was nice to get a break from the constant looks of pure hatred. I was working on an essay about the Scarlet Letter for English and Jasper had left to take a quick walk. As soon as he left Rosalie had tapped my shoulder.

“Hey are you okay? You’ve seemed kinda off this morning, Jasper’s starting to notice it too. She asked.

“No, I’m not.”

Alice and Dean’s interest had peaked and listened in on our conversation.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen to you?”

“No, not exactly. I just had a really bad nightmare. It was like I was in on the attack, It wasn’t me me though I was in someone elses body. I helped with the attack I was chasing that poor man with two other men.” 

“That’s strange, no wonder you’ve been out of it all morning.” Rosalie said.

“But it gets even worse, dad told me today he had to go down to Mason county because a security guard got attack by an animal. It was the same place in my dream.”

Rosalie, Emmett, Dean, and Alice looked shocked not exactly knowing what to say.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” Rosalie said.

“Yeah don’t worry about it short-stack.”

“Yeah, you guys are right I need to stop worrying. I just can’t help it. It felt so real to me.”

“We’ll check out the area if that makes you feel better.” Alice suggested.

“I couldn’t ask you guys to do that but, thank you for the offer.”

“It wouldn’t be much trouble.” Dean said.

“No really I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Rosalie asked.

“Yeah it’s okay, can we just keep this between us for now.

“Don’t worry, We won’t tell anyone else.” Rosalie said.

“Thank you.”

Jasper had returned to the table putting his arm around my should and kissing my head. I noticed he had someone else with him, that person being Edward. 

“Been a while Edward, are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I feel a lot better.”

“Good.”

I then took Jasper’s hand feeling more content. It felt nice to tell somebody else about my dream. It was like a weight fell off my shoulders and my heart had returned to it’s normal pace. After Art and Calculus I made my way out of the building ready to head back home. Hopefully Bella would be in a better mood I didn’t want to fight today. I felt my arm being tugged on to turn me around... I of course knew who it was I guess him being back didn’t help he much. 

“Yes, Bella?” I asked in a calm tone.

“Look I know you’re around the Cullens all the time what’s going on with Edward!? She demanded.

“I don’t know.” I lied.

“Don’t lie to me! How stupid do you think I am? Everything was going fine in Biology and then when I asked about his eyes he freaked out again.” 

I held in a comment I didn’t want this to escalate.

“I am not lying Bella I don’t what is going on we never talk much.”

“Oh don’t give me that load of crap! Tell that freak of a boyfriend of yours to stop glaring at.”

“He can look where ever he wants to and he is not a freak. Don’t start something you can’t finished Bella. It won’t end well for you.” I said and started to walk away. 

“Oh no your not, you’re not going to walk away from me again!.”

Before I could say anything else I heard the screeching of a van. It was heading right towards us. I pushed Bella out of harms ways as much as I wanted to rip her head off I wouldn’t let her get crushed by a van. But I didn’t have enough time to move myself. I put my hands up knowing that it would help the impact but, my instincts just told me to do that. I was suddenly knocked down hitting my head on the pavement. I looked up with blurry eyes to see Jasper holding me and stopping the van. My breath was stuttering I didn’t know what to do.

“Are you okay darlin? I feel pain.” He asked he amber eyes filled with worry.

“I’m fine. You need to go though you can get caught. We don’t need anyone getting suspicious about you guys.” I said.

He nodded, kissed my head then left. I was suddenly surrounded by students all of them shouting to call 911.

“Oh my gosh Fleur!”

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m calling 911 now.”

“I’m sorry Fleur I tried to stop!” I heard Tyler say, he had a cut on the side of his head

My head started spinning so I laid down before I closed my eyes though I saw Bella's face for once she didn’t look at me with hatred but, shock and worry.

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it’s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[imagineteamfreewill]

A Good Kind of Not Okay

Title: A Good Kind of Not Okay

Pairing: Nanny!Reader x Director!Sam

Word Count: 4,414

Warnings: A little bit of pining

Square Filled: Director!Sam

Summary: Sam is a single dad who also happens to be one of the world’s most famous movie directors. When he struggles to care for his daughter like he wants, he hires the reader to help care for his pride and joy.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2020-2021 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo​). Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!

X

_______________

Sam was running late. Again. Filming was behind schedule for the third time that week, and as the director, he had to stay until everything was finished. Of course, he was part of the reason why the filming was behind schedule. He couldn’t help it. Sam was a perfectionist, and he always had been. That’s what got him hired.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Sam said. He glanced down the street and then turned. “I’m on my way, I should be there in ten minutes.”

“Mr. Winchester, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call before the center director could chew him out any further. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn’t need more reminders and warnings about being late. He really did try to keep a normal schedule, and he always made arrangements if the filming was scheduled to go late into the night or early in the morning, but there were some things that were out of his control.

The roads were blessedly empty and Sam pulled into the parking lot in just over five minutes. He wasn’t normally one to speed, especially if Elsie was in the car with him, but it was times like these when he was thankful for the extra horsepower. The Charger was the last big thing he’d bought for himself before his daughter was born and he rarely took advantage of its capabilities. Dean constantly nagged him about it.

Climbing out of the car, he grabbed his phone from the cupholder and rushed inside where he knew Elsie was waiting. The day care was completely deserted except for her and the director, who was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, alternating between watching the front doors and the small child perched at the plastic drawing table beside her. Even the lights in the back playrooms and the office were off.

“Mr. Winchester, I’m glad you made it here okay.”

“Daddy!” Elsie bolted from her chair, abandoning her backpack and leaving the crayons to roll off the table and onto the floor. Sam crouched to scoop her up as soon as she was in arm’s reach, and his daughter immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’m late,” he murmured, and he cradled the back of her tiny head in his hand. He still couldn’t get over how tiny she was, even at four years old.

The director stood from her seat, clipboard and radio in hand. She gave him a scolding look. “Mr. Winchester—”

“Please, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “And I know, you can’t keep waiting with her. It won’t happen again.”

Her expression turned withering. “That’s becoming a catchphrase for you. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Elsie can’t keep coming to Gilded Hearts after the end of this week. We have very strict policies about parent pick-up and you signed a contract agreeing to uphold them. You’ve broken that contract multiple times this week alone, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve broken it otherwise.”

Sam frowned, shifting Elsie in his arms so he could pick up her backpack with one hand. “You’re kicking her out? Please, don’t kick her out just because I messed up a few—”

“It’s been more than a few times,” the director pointed out. “If it had been an emergency, it would be a different story, but we can’t keep staying late with her because you can’t seem to be able to pick her at the time you agreed upon when Elsie first started coming here.”

Lifting her head, Elsie looked up at Sam with big, hazel eyes. She’d perfected his own puppy dog expression solely to use on Sam and her Uncle Dean, and Sam’s heart sunk. The guilt settled in and suddenly all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. He’d been putting work in front of his daughter, something he promised he’d never do, and now he had to face the consequences.

“Okay. You said the end of this week?” Sam asked, sighing. The director nodded and gave him a polite, albeit tight, smile. “Alright. Thanks for staying with her. Have a good night.”

The director waved goodbye to Elsie, then watched in silence as Sam carried her out to the car. It was still sunny out and Elsie squinted, whining a little when he stepped out of the shade provided by the enormous oak trees that guarded the day care’s entrance.

“I know. Your sunglasses are in the car, honey.” Sam dug his keys back out of his pocket and unlocked the backseat, then carefully situated Elsie in her carseat. The tiny pair of Minnie Mouse sunglasses were right where they always were, and once his daughter was buckled in, he handed them to her so she could slip them on. She did so immediately.

“Are you sad, Daddy?” she asked. Elsie reached out a hand, grabbing onto Sam’s coat before he could back out of the doorway and go around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not sad, babygirl. Daddy’s just tired from work. Are you hungry? You ready to go home and eat?”

After a moment, Elsie nodded and let go of his coat. Sam shut the door and let out a long sigh as he went around the back of the car. His head was pounding and he was exhausted from shooting in the heat all day, but getting food in his little girl’s stomach and making sure that she got everything else she needed before bedtime had to be his priority right now. Then he would have to figure out where she was going to spend her days after the week was over. She couldn’t exactly come to work with him on an R-rated movie set. The impending migraine would have to wait.

_______________

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked, and you raised your eyebrows at her for a brief moment, then crouched down to her level.

“I’m Y/N. What’s yours?”

She held onto the door handle with both hands, swinging her weight on it as she stared at you. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name.”

“That’s very smart,” you replied, smiling. “Is your daddy home?”

“Who’s asking?”

A laugh almost slipped out at the cliché response, but you carefully held it back. You started to answer when a very tall, very handsome man in a suit stepped up behind the little girl in the tutu.

Nodding, you stood and held out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N, from the nanny agency. Are you Mr. Winchester?”

The man smiled politely and shook your hand before reaching down to scoop up Elsie. He held her on one hip and stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. He didn’t even seem to be bothered that his shirt and jacket were now rumpled from being squashed by the little girl and her very fluffy tutu, nor did he seem phased when she reached out to hold onto the tie around his neck.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Please, call me Sam. I’m glad you could come on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” you replied. You glanced around the entryway of Sam’s enormous house, a little surprised. It was grand, but compared to some of the others in the neighborhood, this house seemed more… lived in. Turning around, you smiled politely. “Is there anything you wanted to ask me that wasn’t in my file? I know that they already sent over my resume, references, and bio, but there’s always something that people want to know.”

Sam gave you a once-over before closing the door. “You’re a live-in nanny, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any questions, but how about you check out the guest room before you decide if you want to stay? The last nanny we tried had some issues with it.”

“Issues?” you repeated, suddenly a bit more hesitant, and Sam gestured for you to follow him up the stairs. You did, glad that you’d left your suitcase in the car. The staircase was immense and it would’ve been a pain to drag it up all the way.

As you walked, Elsie chattered to Sam, who glanced at her and replied when necessary. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear that he cared deeply for her. Every nod, every thoughtful reply, every second of eye contact he offered her reassured you that this would be a good family to work with for your next position. It would certainly be better than your last one, that was for sure.

When you finally arrived at the opposite end of the hallway, Sam pushed open a door and gestured for you to enter first. You did, taking a look around. The “guest room” was more like a deluxe suite and you had to remind yourself not to let your mouth hang open as you took it all in. It made you wonder if there was some sort of housekeeper or maid that cleaned Sam’s house, because there was no way he kept the room as beautiful as it was, worked, and took care of his gorgeous little girl.

“It’s got an attached bathroom with a shower and a tub, and you’ll have your own private balcony. It overlooks the backyard and the pool, which you’re welcome to use at any time. There’s a walk-in closet through that door,” Sam pointed to a closed door off to the right of the bathroom, “And there’s an office across the hall you can use if you want. There’s a printer and internet hookups in case you’re having problems with the WiFi. You shouldn’t, but it never hurts to be prepared. Of course, if you don’t like the furniture I’ve got in here we can move it and you can put your own things in. I hired a decorator for the whole house when I first moved in and I haven’t done anything with the room since then.

You nodded, a bit overwhelmed. “Right. Can I ask what the issue was? That the last nanny had?”

“She didn’t like the view from the balcony, apparently, and she complained that she was too close to Elsie’s room.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. The distaste was clear in his voice as he continued, “She said she preferred to have a room near the other adults in the household instead of the child that she cares for. My room is on the other side of the stairs we came up.”

Elsie started to wiggle in his arms and he set her down, not looking away from you. She instantly ran over to the bed and climbed on top to sprawl out over the plush white comforter.

“The room is great, Sam,” you replied, nodding. “It’s amazing, actually.” You glanced back at Elsie and sat on the edge of the mattress. “How’s the bed? Comfy?”

Elsie giggled and nodded before rolling onto her stomach to look at Sam. “Is this my new nanny?”

“I think so,” Sam replied. He looked over at you and you nodded. “Looks like it, Elsie girl! You can show her your room and your playroom in a few minutes, okay? First we gotta do the grown-up stuff.”

Grinning, the little girl scrambled off the bed to run off to another part of the house. She shouted a quick “Okay!” on her way out of the room.

“So, you think you’d be okay being her nanny? Obviously I’ll let you look over the contract and you can take it to a lawyer if you need—”

“That’s not really necessary,” you told him, holding up your hand to stop Sam from going any further. “I’ll look it over downstairs if you wouldn’t mind getting me something to drink while I read.”

“Water okay?”

You nodded, and you and Sam headed downstairs where the contract was waiting.

_______________

Working for Sam was one of the best things that had ever happened to you. Not only was Elsie adorable and one of the smartest, funniest kids you’d ever nannied, but her dad was amazing, too. He never failed to make you laugh and though he was constantly overworking himself during the day, you admired the way that his focus was entirely on Elsie and his homelife as soon as he parked in the garage. Even if he finished work at three in the morning, he came looking for his daughter the minute he was home. If she was awake, she was always more than happy to cuddle up and watch a movie, go swimming in their pool, or just show him the pictures she’d worked on for him during the day. Then, as soon as the little princess was in bed, Sam’s attention turned to you. That was one of the best parts of your job, though it was becoming a problem. No matter what Sam did and despite your best efforts, your crush kept growing. He was just too great, and you worried that someday you’d be heartbroken when he brought home some gorgeous movie star. Then you’d have to quit, and not only would you be out of a job, but the best two people in your life would immediately become a part of your past. That was the last thing you wanted.

It wasn’t until you’d been the nanny for eight months that Sam asked you to bring Elsie to set. The request caught you off guard—usually he avoided involving Elsie in anything that had to do with his work because of the nature of his films—but you knew that he was a smart guy, so you loaded up the almost-five-year-old into your car and drove to the address he’d texted.

“Daddy!” Elsie squealed. Sam’s head turned towards you and he smiled wide when he saw Elsie dragging you by the hand across the packed dirt of the filming site. She had insisted on wearing her princess dress, and the sight of her in the poofy, sparkly dress and Minnie Mouse sunglasses was enough to make anyone laugh. You were thankful you’d put your own sunglasses on before you’d climbed out of the car, otherwise the sun’s glare would have been too bright for you to even see Sam. He had his glasses on as well, and you briefly wondered if he’d take them off at some point so you could see his eyes in the sunlight.

“Hi, Bug!” As soon as she was within his reach, Sam picked her up and swung her up onto his shoulders. The move was almost one fluid motion and though he did it all the time, you still marveled and Elsie still giggled.

The man Sam had been talking to—you vaguely recognized his face from a magazine in the grocery store checkout—was dressed in an elaborate suit of leather armor. He glanced over at you as you approached, but he quickly turned his attention back to Sam.

“So what are you going to do about her?” the man asked.

Sam glanced at him before looking up at Elsie, smiling wide. “We’ll have a talk. Don’t worry about it, Erick.”

Ah, so he’s the action hero, you thought, and you looked the actor up and down. He looks shorter in person.

Erick turned and caught you staring at him, and his lip curled up in disgust. “Who are you?”

“She’s my best friend!” Elsie replied before anyone else could. You smiled on instinct.

“Right...” Erick drawled. He looked up at Elsie and the disgusted look on his face didn’t fade even as he walked away to a u-shaped cluster of chairs and makeup vanities. He was immediately swarmed by women fussing over his hair, makeup, and costume.

Once he was fair enough away, you turned towards Sam with raised eyebrows. “So. This is the movie business,” you retorted.

He laughed and adjusted his grip on Elsie’s little legs. “Something like it, yeah. Don’t worry about him, he’s always like that. It’s not one of his redeeming features, but he was the favorite for this role. Do you guys want a tour of the set?”

Elsie cheered and wiggled a little on Sam’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip accordingly. You nodded in agreement.

“A tour would be great, Sam, but aren’t you on your lunch break?”

Sam shrugged and started walking. You followed close behind as he began to explain the set in terms that Elsie could understand. She was smart, and she loved big words, but she was still just a kid. After a while, he managed to commandeer a golf cart for the three of you, and you ended up riding around not only just the set, but in between all the trailers and the service roads that surrounded the site. You had to admit that the area was beautiful, even if it was hot and dusty.

Eventually, you, Sam, and Elsie ended up outside his trailer. It was smaller than the actors’, but he explained as you followed him up the steps that he really didn’t use it much, and he only had one for this part of production because they were filming in a more remote location than usual. Food was waiting for you on the small dining table inside, and all three of you breathed a sigh of relief at the air conditioning.

“Can I come to set tomorrow?” Elsie asked as she climbed up onto the couch.

Sam handed her the hot dog from the container marked with her name and smiled a little. “Not tomorrow, Ells. Maybe another day,” he said. He picked up the two remaining containers and held out the one with your name scrawled across the top.

After murmuring your thanks, you settled down on the opposite side of Elsie from him and opened the styrofoam box. Your favorite sandwich was inside and you smiled over at Sam, a little bit surprised that he’d remembered. He didn’t make or order you food often, since you normally ate with Elsie during the day and on your own at night so that Elsie’s attention wasn’t divided between the two of you.

“You mentioned that it was your favorite that one time we went to the boardwalk,” Sam said, noticing your surprise. “It just kinda stuck in my brain, and I saw it on the menu when I was ordering our lunches before you got here.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you replied, honestly shocked. No one had ever remembered your usual order. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded in reply and the three of you dug into your meals in relative silence. Elsie finished first, like usual, and she was starting to dig through the things in Sam’s trailer when there was a knock at the door.

Elated, the little girl ran over and tugged it open, the force of which pushed her down to sit on the top step of the entry. “Hi!” she cried, and you sat up on the couch to see who she was talking to.

“Hi!” a woman chuckled. After a second, Elsie popped back up and led the short-haired woman into the trailer by the hand. “Is this your daughter, Sam?”

“No, this is a monster!” Sam grabbed Elsie around the waist and pulled her into his lap, growling playfully. Elsie squealed and squirmed as he tickled her, and the woman laughed. You smiled too, but you reached over to move Sam’s half-eaten meal out of the way. You’d seen this play out too many times to think that he and Elsie would be able to avoid knocking it onto the rug.

Elsie finally freed herself from Sam’s grasp and scrambled into yours. You wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Sam caught your eye and grinned wide before looking back at the woman still standing in his trailer.

“What’s going on, Jody? Are we having a wardrobe problem again?” he asked, getting to his feet.

She shook her head. “No, but I heard a certain someone in here really likes princesses, and I thought I could give her a little tour of the wardrobe trailer,” Jody replied with a slow smile.

“Right, the wardrobe trailer with all the princess dresses…” Sam looked back at Elsie, who was watching him and Jody with wide eyes. She’d cued in on the key words in their conversation and was practically vibrating with excitement in your arms. “What do you say, Elsie? Would you like to go with Miss Jody to see the princess dresses for daddy’s movie?”

Elsie nodded vigorously and you let her down off your lap. She grabbed Jody’s outstretched hand with a wide smile and waved at Sam as she was led down the steps that led out of his trailer. The door slammed behind her and Jody, and after a second, you stood and gathered up two of the discarded lunch containers. 

Sam stared at you as you carried them over to the trash, and finally you looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me, Sam. There’s not something on the back of my pants, right? Or shirt?” You twisted, trying to get a look at your back just in case, and your face grew hot at the idea that you’d been walking around with Sam-freaking-Winchester, the super hot, award-winning director, all the while looking like a slob.

“No, no. I just…” Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He watched through the window as some of the crew members walked by outside, then dropped his hand back down and looked back at you. “We need to talk about something.”

Oh no.

“Sure, is everything okay?”

Sam sat back down on the couch and gestured for you to return to your own seat. You did, and you purposefully folded your hands in your lap so that you wouldn’t fidget and give away how nervous you felt. Your stomach was twisted up in knots.

“Yes. I mean, no, but… It’s a good kind of not okay.”

“Oh…Okay.”

“That didn’t make sense,” Sam said after a second.

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed, smiling a little. “Is this about Elsie? Is there something different you maybe want me to do with her? Or do you think it’s time for her to go back to a daycare, or even a preschool? She’s almost in Kindergarten anyway. I really don’t mind just watching her in the mornings and afternoons, if that’s what you need.”

“Do you not want to work with Elsie anymore?” His eyebrows furrowed and you quickly backtracked. “Because if you don’t—”

“No! No, I love Elsie. She’s an amazing kid, Sam. I just… I’m trying to figure out what you mean. A good kind of not okay?”

Sam sighed and nodded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a few moments as he thought, then leaned back and relaxed against the couch cushions. You watched in silence, and with each passing second, the feeling that you might puke just from the suspense of the whole thing grew.

“I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot,” Sam finally said.

“I like you and Elsie too, Sam, but what’s that got to do with this?”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching over to put one large hand over your folded ones. You froze, absolutely stunned. Sam had never touched you except for handshakes, or maybe in passing when he took Elsie from you.

“Y/N, I really like you. I like you in the non-professional sense.”

Oh.

“I like you in the romantic sense,” Sam continued. “And I’d really like to see you romantically, but you’re my employee. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because I think that you might want the same thing.”

You swallowed, looking down. Slowly, you relaxed your grip on your hands and let him take one of them in his. After a second, his thumb began to rub over your skin and the feeling was hypnotizing. “I do. Want the same,” you added. “I’ve liked you a long time, Sam.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, Y/N.”

Looking up at him, you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “I don’t. I don’t feel pressured, Sam. I really do like you, and I was honestly worried I’d have to quit if you ever brought home some famous movie star or something. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Sam smiled wide, his eyes lighting up. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that?” You shook your head. “A really long time, Y/N. Almost the whole time you’ve been Elsie’s nanny,” he admitted, and you grinned back at him.

Any nerves you’d had were completely gone now. Sam’s touch—even though it was just his thumb on the back of your hand—was more soothing than you could’ve ever imagined, and though the butterflies in your stomach were alive and well, you’d hoped for a while that you and Sam would have this conversation.

“Really?”

He nodded and brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it. The butterflies leaped for joy.

“That’s a long time. I didn’t even catch on,” you told him.

“I had to be careful. And to be honest, the only reason I suspected you liked me back is because Elsie started talking about how you and I act like one of her friend’s parents whenever we’re together. She started asking questions and it made me think.”

You laughed. “That little girl has got a brain bigger than yours. She’s gonna grow up amazing.”

Sam hadn’t stopped grinning at you and you felt your face grow warm under all the attention. If this was an old black and white movie, you would’ve swooned by now, but now his smile was beginning to fade. You sensed that the other shoe was about to drop and your own smile wilted.

“I’ve got you to thank for a lot of that,” Sam said, his voice softer. “We can’t be together if you're my employee, Y/N.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you murmured. After a second, you gave him a sly smile. “You and Elsie just need to put your big brains together.”

_______________

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[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

[aineryeo]

Prominence ௹ ATSUMU

The letters of the first few days when you parted ways 📨

Prominence: “Find someone great, but don’t find someone better.” You’d say to yourself, though it was directed to your ex-boyfriend, writing in a number of papers, serving as letters. Awaiting your impending doom.

Timeskip! Atsumu x Reader

Synopsis: You break up with Atsumu Miya in hopes to alleviate his pain. And for what he'd have to deal with. » 6.2k Words

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illnesses & actual disease, Angst, Suicidal tendencies, Cursing, Atsumu is an impulsive bitch, so is reader. Read at your own discretion. Do not read if this has any sort of possibility to trigger you, more if you feel encouraged to do something you shouldn’t. This isn’t what the fic is about.

It was a rainy day, droplets of water knocking on the window of what was your empty room. It wasn’t a space you were supposed to be getting used to at this point in your long life. A faint tune of a piano was penetrating through your thin walls as you stared into nothing in particular, maybe the particles that become visible with the peek of sunlight through the gray clouds piercing through your window pane.

Your body got up, but you had a stinging migraine, your limbs were weak, and today was an off-day from your work as a bustling city journalist. No phone calls for a sudden need for your presence in your job. Your blanket was wrapped around you loosely, your feet navigating through your creaking floors. How depressing.

Empty fridge.

Messy bed.

Disorganized papers.

And clothes in unsuspecting places.

Your clothes. None of his. You can’t even reminisce about him anymore. Your migraine seems to have gotten worse. You spot one of the few things that were left organized. Your letters. You grimaced, the pain suddenly pushed to the back of your head as you were reminded of the contents.

“It won’t be bad to see him, at least once.” You reason to yourself with a small smile, it wasn’t a happy one. Nonetheless it was one. One reason out of many when you were always reminded that he was already happy, that Atsumu no longer needed you, and your relationship was a ghost of the past.

It has been for a month now, how else would it go, when you were the one who ended it?

Yeah, it was a bad idea to see him. You scold yourself for coming here, furthering your torture. You see him with a huge smile, bigger than when he was with you. Brighter than when you last picked a joke, at least that was what you thought. You dated him since you were sixteen, young, and fresh in-love.

“Tsum, baby, not here.” You vaguely make out, from hiding behind one of the tall bleachers near the exit from where their practice usually resided in. She was very pretty, her voice silky. You hear a rumbling chuckle in return, you feel your spine shudder at the familiarity. “Hm, honey where do ya want me ta do it then? I jus’ can’t resist ya.” You took your small window to catch a glimpse of them. The perfect lovers.

This was selfish, you knew it. But you inwardly cheered for him, happy to know that he found someone great. That he was happy, even if it was at your expense. Your eyes were glossy, dams about to break, so you walk away; like you always do, like you always did. Your mouth formed into a shaky frown, your fists clenching ‘till you were white-knuckling nothing in particular. White-knuckling all your pain, perhaps.

It was when you exited the establishment, into the car park, into your cheap second-hand car, did your tears fall; until everything kept breaking, your multi-functional tape to bar all your emotions inside, failing you for the umpteenth time for the past month. You were all alone, still clutching your keys to open the door to the driver’s seat. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, which made you jolt, you were too surprised that you didn’t get to wipe your residual breakdown off your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blurry eyes adjusted, and your heart almost jumped at the familiar face. You turned your face away from him, you were too ashamed to show your face to him. To the brother of the man you were still in love with. You changed your voice a few octaves higher, “Yeah! Thanks, sorry you had to see that.” Mishandling your keys before being able to open it quickly, though Osamu stopped you just as fast.

“I know it’s you, Y/N.”

You froze. “I’m not—”

Hearing a small laugh from him made you stop. “I think I’ve seen your car enough times before, with the same plate to know that it’s you when I parked right next to it.” Turning back, he already had his hand out holding a handkerchief.

“Sorry.”

He smiled sympathetically at your small figure, noticing that you’ve gotten smaller than you already were. More fragile. So he placed his hand that was roughly the size of your face, gently on top of your head to stroke it, hoping to bring you some comfort; roughly knowing the situation about you and his brother. How couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.”

It’s not. You recall, already sitting in your bathtub, not really crying, not really feeling anything of the sort. You exhaled as if it lightened your burdens. It won’t be.

You hum. Knees to your chest, “Not when...” You sigh, not now.

It was time for work, tedious work that requires you to write articles and camp out places at 2am in the morning, only to turn up and camp out at a different place again, just hoping for an interview for your channel. You didn’t feel like breaking down at all, but it felt like everything is typically more down. You refused to eat when your co-workers asked you to join them, you had no appetite.

You hadn’t for weeks.

A heavy feeling is always stuck inside you. Like everything is screaming at you, but you can’t scream back. You just can’t. Always heaving sighs, always staring into what once was blue skies, turned dull grey. Was it because you regretted having to let go of him? Or was it because of the news you had received prior to when you left him? Was it because the one time you felt like you couldn’t walk, the doctor told you that you had a few left; extend your life with a surgery that was high-risk.

Your hand ran through your hair for the umpteenth time, thoughts drifting to whether you should just end it quicker than what you had. What was the point? You failed to notice that your hand was writing on another piece of paper, as if documenting everything that ran through your mind. And maybe you wanted them to find out, when you’re gone. So you don’t have to face the burden of facing them afterwards and giving them any answers.

But you don’t want to ruin the happiness Atsumu had right now. He’ll blame himself, but this was all your fault. You ended it with a bad note so he’d forget you easily, you yelled at him, told him that he was useless, you didn’t love him anymore. You open your eyes, seeing yourself back at the situation where it all began, and where it all ended.

“Atsumu, I hate you.”

“Angel, what are ya saying? I said I was sorry! I’m tired from practice.” He replied, he was tired. He was stressed. You were stressing him. And he was getting rightfully agitated, it was working.

Your thoughts briefly flash to the days before, same old. You chose to do it days slowly, so it wouldn’t be too sudden; so he’d lose all love for you once you leave him. So you nitpick him again, even though it never really bothered you, “You always do this. Maybe we should just...” You swallow, it was like eating hard, bitter candy at once.

“What? Break up? Yeah, with your incessant yappin’ these days, Y/N, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He said, looking at you with a harsh gaze. Similar to when some random fan begins screaming during his serving routine. You were nothing now. You nodded, if he had the right mind that time, he would’ve noticed that you were eerily calm; you were expecting this, why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah, break up.” You confirmed, with a somber smile. He hadn’t even noticed that more than half of your things were already gone from your shared apartment. You had one last suitcase, it was right beside the door. Atsumu failed to notice all the little things disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he failed to also stop you before you hung your apron on the rack, turning the stove off, he was already gone. Into his bedroom, where he slept, too tired for anything his aching muscles couldn’t take right now. Your keys left untouched on the table before you left him altogether. Always, just always looking back with a heavy grimace.

The skies were the same color from that day, to everyday, same grey.

It wasn’t long before you found out he had a new love. Apparently an avid, and innocent fan of his whom he met during one of his morning runs in the park.

“What’re you writing there, Y/N?” One of your co-workers as of now, Akaashi Keiji, brought your head back up in the present. You hummed, folding the paper your hand subconsciously wrote in, and placing it in your pocket. “Nothing, really. My hand just kind of moves on its own when I think of anything in general.”

He smiles, sweet. “That’s endearing. Must be why you’re quite famous in the department.”

You chuckle, “I’m not famous, Keiji. If anything, this job just keeps giving me migraines. You’re the real MVP as a great editor in your dept.”

His hand was rubbing his nape, laughing softly with you. You stood up, supposed to get some water only to fall back down again. Your co-worker quickly catches you with worry etched in his delicate features.

“Y/N, have you been eating?” No, but..

“Keiji, I can’t feel my legs.”

It was showing.

You asked Keiji not to tell anyone, he in turn, asked if any of your family members knew this. It made you chortle, you said, “No. My grandmother died years ago, I’m an only child, and my parents didn’t last.” It wasn’t a funny thing, you knew that but it made you laugh anyway. Laugh at how pathetic you were.

He looked at you, on your bed at your home that he had kindly helped you in after calling your doctor from before. Saying it was that the disease was starting to become severe, causing your limbs, your legs, your arms, to lose its sensation. Slowly, you’ll become more agitated, and it’ll be harder for you to talk, or even move. Only your co-worker, and your boss knew for the time-being.

“You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” You said, though weak, “I’ll only weigh you down.”

Keiji sighed, he knew that you worry too much about other people, he knew that you got lost enough to stop thinking about yourself. And it was sad, he empathized with you in the way that you were both overthinkers, though he’d understood for a while that you were more hasty with decision-making.

“No.” He said, simple.

You looked down at the blanket that covered your bottom half, your top half facing the big, musty, old window next to your bed. Facing away from Akaashi.

“Why?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, save for the usual noise from the surrounding roads. He looked up, before he looked back at your weak figure. “It’s just you—you’re all alone.” Walking around to the other side so he can face you. About to utter a tad more to his sentence, he stopped when he saw your eyes blown wide, a bit red at the bottom, a hard attempt to stop tears from falling. He didn’t miss a beat after, quickly crouching, and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“So I thought you could use some company.”

You appreciated your co-worker, now close friend’s generous help. It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve been spending it cooped up in the hospital. He had also forced you to finally admit yourself so you can get immediate assistance in the case that something similar were to happen again. A similar event where he was forced to carry you to your car, and drive you home.

The cords stuck to your skin to hydrate you was a bother, but it was manageable. Here were your last few months alive. You still had no idea why you couldn’t just leave. You had no specific goal, you were bound to hit rock-bottom, and the least you can get is a few more months, maybe years of living if you get the surgery. There was no point, nothing to live for. You could work on your career, but what can you really do with legs that can barely stand, and… hands that can’t even pick up a pen.

The latter was the one that you cried to every night if you had tears to spare. The latter was the one where you try to continuously hit your head in hopes it can keep writing. It was such a simple task, why couldn’t it do its job? When Akaashi came to visit one afternoon, he had to rush and grab the sharp pen you had in your barely moving left hand, attempting to dig it in the skin of the right. Just to feel if it was still alive.

Then it was requested to have no pens, or sharp objects left near you without supervision. You’d call your friends, if by friends, you mean other than occasional visits from your co-workers that didn’t know much about your personal life; but still had the courtesy of visiting you nonetheless after hearing news from the boss, you’d consent to it since you were leaving the field. But he hasn’t fired you yet, apparently.

Sometimes it shifts, when your arms refuse to work, your legs will move for a bit, vice versa. A frown forms on your face when it happens to be both. Why couldn’t this just be quicker? You ponder, and hear the door open. Expecting the only person who visits you so frequently.

“Keij—” You stopped. He stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm? So I can’t visit ya now?” Oh, his familiar tone.

“How did you even know I was here?” You said, a bit agitated.

“Asked one of yer co-workers.” He shrugged.

“...You visited my workplace? And they told you immediately?” You raised your brow, bringing your body up to sit on the bed instead. It was a feat on its own, but he’d seen your struggle, he was about to reach and help actually.

“Yeah, I had deliveries to make.” He said, leaning back. “And I may have made them slip it after overhearin’ yer name. Couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re ridiculous, ‘Samu.” You smiled, for the first time in a while. He could tell that it wasn’t a normal occurrence in a while, the thought of at least alleviating your stress for a bit eased a tide inside Osamu.

Osamu took his hat off, putting it on the table next to your bed. He was humoring you, because he didn’t want you to see the first look on his face when he confirmed that it really was you who's been confined here. Not any other person with the same name. He sat on the sofa beside you, next to the window. You’d lie if your heart didn’t clench at the sight of him, If you’d look inside, you’ll spot the tinge of pain; but outside, all Osamu could see was that you still adored him. By that, he meant his brother. He knew he might trigger you due to him being the twin of what was your love. Still is, he was sure.

Clearing his throat, your trance broke. “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You lay your back flat on the metal headboard covered in the white pillows of your white bed, in your white room.

“Why are you here?” It was true that Osamu had heard you were confined in the hospital while he was making deliveries to your place coincidentally, so he couldn’t help but perk his ears. Despite your break-up, he was still your childhood friend, and although he heard of the story of how it ended from none other than his brother’s dull voice on the phone that night he was closing up Onigiri Miya; he knew there must’ve been something that caused you to do that other than Atsumu himself. He’d investigate, and help rekindle the lifelong relationship you both shared if he wasn’t so busy himself. And if his brother hadn’t immediately used a rebound to inflict immediate pain upon you, maybe he’d have considered it.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Osamu sighs, “You do. Tell me,” he looks at you with sincerity, placing his coarse palm from the work he’s been juggling in, on top of your pale, lifeless hands. Almost wincing at the cold temperature they held, “Please.”

You sucked in a breath, he placed his, what you assume to be, warm hand on top of yours. But you felt nothing. So you let it out, “I have Friedreich’s Ataxia. Apparently it’s genetic, uh, doesn’t allow me to use these flimsy things.” You glanced at your legs, slightly waving them along with your hands, “I can’t even feel the warmth of your hand right now. I mean, that is, if you’re warm. It’s always cold here. The doctors said they’d try to give me therapy and train me to walk again, or actually use my hands.” You chuckle.

“And something about heart surgery, though that won’t really extend my life for long.” You finish, opting to insert a joke that you thought was bright until you let it out, “Better than turning out blind though! Haha… Kidding, it may happen to me too, which sucks, by the way.”

Your rambling was cut off when you were met with an intense stare from Osamu. “And you’ve found out of this, when?”

“...Nearly 2 months.. Ago?” You gulped the lump that was stuck in your throat.

Osamu rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “So that was the reason?”

You retained silence.

He sighs. “I knew it would be a valid reason, but I really wasn’t hoping it would be this.” His face hidden in his big hands, frustration was visible. But it was the breathy question of, “Why are the gods this cruel?” To which your eyes soften, albeit a little bit.

“Samu, can I ask a favor?”

He looks at you, face out of his palms. “Sure.”

“Can you… Turn the TV on?” He raised a brow at first before standing up and getting the remote by the stand, switching it on, immediately being greeted by the sports channel on Volleyball. Oh, they had a game today. He had nearly forgotten due to this new revelation from you. He looked at your face that was staring directly at the screen, then he saw the number thirteen, and his heart clenched tighter.

He placed the remote on the table beside your bed, and he took his black cap. He spun it on his finger for a bit, “I won’t tell ‘Sumu.”

You hummed again, before looking at him. “Thank you.” Then he smiles sweetly at you before turning around, his face immediately turning into a painful grimace. Because even he could feel the tragedy of this love.

Each day you were gone was a punch in the gut for Atsumu. His initial lack of reaction to his overreaction, trying to get back at you for leaving him. It was wrong. All he ever wanted was to call you, tell you to come back, have you in his arms, the lot. He’d miss the smell of your hair when he hugs you tight, or the clean apartment whenever he comes home to you beaming, cooking dinner; like his precious wife-to-be. Though he hadn’t proposed, the ring he bought for you started collecting dust in his drawer.

The girl he was with didn’t really last long, she broke it off after getting annoyed by him calling your name instead of hers on any normal occasion on impulse. His head in his hands, bed half-empty. His games gave him a little bit of adrenaline, but every time he sees the empty spot saved for you in his jersey, the adrenaline will scafe off, bit by bit. It’d be a lie if he said that he didn’t at least try to call your number in the past two months, he had actually, for a couple of times. But your number was unreachable, and your social media was non-existent.

It was like you weren’t real. Like a ghost. Sand that was slipping far from his fingers, his hold. His hold loosened in a moment of weakness.

To say his biggest regret was the night you left was a lie, because the biggest regret he ever made was never immediately trying to get you back. He was dazed off in the locker rooms after one of their games, his water bottle in hand. Hinata waved in front of him, Bokuto right next; to which his daze cut off.

“You okay, Tsum?”

He smiled, nodding. But his teammates knew it wasn’t the same for a while now. He was more rigid and tired in his movements. Probably not the kind of exhaustion that could be solved by sleep.

“Yeah, no worries.” Even Sakusa worriedly glances once in a while, he still cares, though not openly shown. Atsumu slung his gym bag over his shoulders after changing, he decided to visit his brother in his shop for now. He was walking out to drive when he accidentally bumped into someone, trapped in his little thoughts about you again.

“Oh—Sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Atsumu apologized, knowing it was his fault.

“It’s okay, Miya-san.” It took a few moments before Atsumu registered who this was.

“Akaashi? Keiji? Bokuto talks about ya all the time! Nice to meet ya.” He smiled, putting his hand out for him to shake. To which the latter man does. Oh, Akaashi recognizes him, not just from being his friend’s teammate; but from being your ex. He concluded in his thoughts by the few seconds they shook hands that he wished for him to not find out about you any longer. Thinking about the pain it would cause for both of you, especially him. They nodded at each other before bidding goodbyes and heading off to their own destinations.

Atsumu drove past the busy streets of the city, traffic holding him back a little bit. He was stopped a little bit in front of the city hospital. He didn’t know why, but his gaze lingered on the building a little longer than he’d like to admit. His left hand clutching the wheel, the other on the stick; Why does it feel like… He shakes his head to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts, seeing as the cars were finally moving, he did too.

Just as his foot pressed on the accelerator, his eyes landed on you. His eyes were the widest it had been, and this was the day he felt the most emotions since the day you left him.

“Y/N?” He asks, though his window was turned up and he was inside his car. He must be going crazy. Were you on a wheelchair? Was it really you? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, just like it had been every time he visited places he used to go with you. Or when he needed anything in particular, his first call in the apartment would be your name, expecting an answer back like you always had been.

He rolls his window down, and at that moment he swears your eyes met before you quickly changed vision. He’d run out of his car to chase you right now, if it weren’t for the honking behind him. Fuck.

He drives forward, and goes around to park for the hospital real quickly. Just to see if he wasn’t going insane by the amount of times he’d imagined seeing you again. He looks around the area, arriving at the greener part of the hospital, probably one of the places where they take some patients out for walks. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when he sees the same beautifully familiar hair, and angelic face he’s fallen in love with. He misses a beat, he stops, just plainly admiring; he notices your weaker stature, and your crest-fallen face. Paler skin, and limp limbs. And for that mistake, he fails to notice you were being guided in already.

He panics. About to bolt when he suddenly trips over his feet, and gets a bloody knee as the door closes. That doesn’t stop Atsumu, no, he’s dealt with much worse; one of which was the pain of not having you in his life. So he runs, and he sees the wheelchair you resided in enter the elevator; and once again, he swears, he swears, that his breath catches in his throat as he sees your eyes, and you see his.

And maybe he didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t know, but for the first time in months, you both saw colors.

“She was there, ‘Samu, I was sure of it!” Atsumu yells even in the midday of the bustling Onigiri Miya.

“Yer delusional as always, ‘Sumu. Ya should get yer head checked.” Osamu says from the kitchen in the back, there was faint squealing from the men and women alike in the restaurant. Feeling blessed for being able to witness the Miya twins in one sitting. And bantering, no less; even if it was over a girl.

“I can’t have mistaken it. I know when I see ma’ girl, Samu. Ya know it.” Atsumu groans, burying his head in his arms on the counter. “But when I asked the nurses, none of ‘em are giving me details. They say there ain’t Y/N L/N on their recent list of confined patients.”

Osamu was lucky he was working the kitchen right now, because he was low-key nervous of what to say, to not compromise you. How was his brother so close to it anyway? He wants to drive him away. He thinks he can agree with your rationale, but when he thinks of his brother’s side, wouldn’t it be more painful to just find out that you were just… Gone? His mind was splitting in half because of this dreaded situation, until Atsumu called him out again.

“Hey, ya scrub! Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu lightheartedly yelled as Osamu’s heart softened. If anything, he didn’t want to see his brother bear the pain of losing you, permanently.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. I have a business running here. Yer scaring off the customers.” Osamu says, getting out of the kitchen, arms crossed with a scowl.

“Help me, Samu. I just… Can’t bear to lose her.” Atsumu finally says, with a lace of evident longing. Osamu’s face contorts into a myriad of reactions that he couldn’t pick from. Before he settled with a sigh, and a lean on his forearms to poke his brother roughly on the forehead. A grunt of pain from the blonde.

“The only one who can help ya is yerself. If ya want to go find her, go ahead. Whatever your choice will be, don’t let it end with regret.” Was all he said before he went away to tend to the girls who were about to order, red-faced, and all.

Atsumu didn’t understand it a bit. How was that supposed to help him? He thinks. His fist digging into his cheek, face contorted into heavy thinking. It went on like that. He had no other clue, but he kept visiting the hospital, kept driving through, hoping he could catch a glimpse of you; to prove to himself that you were real. But for the first few days, he had no sign of you whatsoever. He kept bugging the nurses, or at least asking them everyday and ended up getting rejected again, and again, and again.

He sat in his car parked in the hospital on his free-day. As if a lightbulb turned on, he felt stupid for not visiting your workplace. They should at least know something about you, right? You were pretty well-known, and idolized in the industry. So he drove there, he may or may not have sped up a little more than he should but all in good purpose. He arrived there, and immediately knew where to park, the signature spot for everytime he comes to drive you home. Recently hearing that you bought a car when you broke up with him, made him sink a little bit. But he saw the spot was taken, eyebrows furrowing for a little before parking to the spot next to it.

When he got out, he noticed that the car that took your spot had dusting on it. As if it hadn’t been let out in a while. Or used. Quickly putting two-and-two together, maybe this was your car? The one you had bought? And if it hadn’t been used in a while… Then that supports his thoughts about you being in the hospital. His face shifted into worry. That must mean.. Whatever you had been sick of, was serious if you haven’t been using your car as often, considering your job was hectic.

He shook the thoughts off for a while, determined to find more clues about you instead. But he thinks the search suddenly became too easy when he suddenly heard a few gossiping women.

“Oh, poor Ms. L/N… She’s been hospitalized for a month now.”

“Really? Have you heard of any reason why?”

“I’m still unsure but I heard it’s chronic, and she doesn’t really have long.”

He sucks in a harsh breath. What? His ears perk up more to their conversation. He hides behind a wall, he assumes that they’re probably heading for their lunch break as a group right now.

Then a snicker, “I know this is kind of mean, but who’ll be replacing her now? Surely her position is up for debate.”

Atsumu’s face darkens at this. Stepping out of the wall as his big frame became all the more intimidating, “I mean, she’ll be biting the dust sooner or—”

“Shut your damn mouth, filthy whore.” Atsumu says with a sneer. Chin up, looking down. “Continue that sentence and I’ll see who bites the fuckin’ dust first.” A whimper, “It’s him again!” Shuffled feet, then they’re gone and out of his sights.

It takes a sigh, and a slump in his posture before everything sinks in. What does this mean? Is it.. True?

He shook his head, sure, you weren’t looking so good when he last saw you. You looked especially sick. But it was like nobody, not even the universe, had wanted him to see you. He thought back to the gossiping workers earlier. It’s him again? Atsumu hasn’t visited in a while, and he doesn’t think that he’s seen them… Oh.

Fuck, Osamu.

He could pass off as a professional racer with the speed he was driving at, only lucky enough to not have any cops tailing him. He was breathing heavily, his brother knew about you and didn’t tell him anything apart from that vague statement a few days ago? He couldn’t help the light betrayal he felt but in all honesty, he’d much rather force his brother to take him to you now. So when he arrived in Onigiri Miya, he didn’t waste a second dragging his brother out who was grumbling incessantly.

“The fuck ‘Sumu, I have a business to run!”

“No you, The fuck ‘Samu. You knew where Y/N was? Take me to her, now.” Atsumu said, foot on the ground, he won’t let anything come between his decisions now. Taking the bag of Onigiri from Osamu’s hand, “I’ll take this too. I’ll pay for it, I need to give a treat at least but we’re kind of in a hurry.” Osamu sighed, finally getting the gist of the situation. Deciding to spare his brother, he’d have to apologize to you later for spilling the beans. But he thinks he needs to let his brother let his feelings out as well.

“Okay.”

“No, you don’t have any other cho—Okay. Okay, get in the car.”

Osamu briefly yells at the part-timer he recently hired, telling them to take over for a while. To which they nodded eagerly, and so, the brothers left. Save for the quiet ride for the first few minutes. “...How—” Atsumu clears his throat, “How is she?”

A quiet beat, Osamu thinks of his answer. He settles for a passive one, “Okay.”

“Hn.” Atsumu grunts.

Osamu leans back on the passenger seat, “Just… Just make sure you don’t regret any of this.”

Atsumu raises a thick brow at this, “Why would I?”

“I think you already know why.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at this, and the silence remains. Atsumu reaches the hospital, parks the car, and Osamu leads the way to your room. Every step Atsumu took felt like the ground was shaking and trying to eat him whole. He wanted to see your pretty face again, your smile that could make his day whole and puff his chest out, or your hands that would comb through his hair and ask how it’s so soft when he bleaches it regularly.

So why was he seeing your writhing body under nurses yelling your name this time. Osamu breathes in, slowly understanding the situation as he quickly glances at his brother who was frozen. Both of them kept walking, until they were in front of what was supposed to be your room. Door open, and multiple people, trying to keep you alive. He hears that the doctor is coming, that you should wait, that you’ll get better in no time, at this point Atsumu didn’t know if the reassurances were for him instead.

When he sees your weak hand gripping the railing of your bed, he breaks. The bag of Onigiri long forgotten on the floor as he runs towards your bed.

“Darling, hey, hey, Angel, you—Yer okay, yeah? You’ll be fine, please be okay.” Atsumu says with shaky hands gripping yours, it was intensely cold, as if you weren’t even alive in the first place. He wishes so much that he was the one to give you warmth. “Look at me, you’ll be okay.”

And for the second time in a while, your eyes meet his, your weak, fragile, pretty little eyes; finally meeting him. The nurses noticed you calming down more, but your state wasn’t getting any better. They were initially going to let Atsumu out, but noticing the intimate relationship you two seemed to have displayed, they decided against it. More focused on bringing you back to life.

You had the heart surgery. You took the leap to extend your life, ever since you caught a glimpse of him a few days back; you just knew that the biggest regret you’d ever have is to never try. You told Akaashi when he visited that you were deciding on it, and he was supportive. He was really supportive. But you weren’t blind that it was a risk that may also shorten your life instead. Though wasn’t that what you were asking for, this whole time?

So maybe the time you got out of the surgery unscathed was the calm before the storm, it was the calm before this. But you were glad that even through your hazy vision, it was him that showed. It was Atsumu that kept telling you to look into his pretty eyes, and tell you that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu thinks that even in this situation, you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. So when the most beautiful thing slipped from his grasp, with no chance of clutching it back; his heart is torn, and burnt into crisps, non-existent flakes as his mind replays every memory he’s ever had with you, and how he was standing and watching warm, sunny spring turn into the ruthless, cold winter.

Osamu watched his brother break down in front of your bed, his own tears mixing in the lot, his cap covering most of his face. Another familiar figure that frequented visits with you, a solemn expression on his usual calm face. Heavy feeling on his chest, Akaashi approached the man who lay on his knees in front of your bed while the nurses that were scrambling to keep your life had promptly announced the date and time of your death.

Akaashi handed the box in his hand towards Atsumu who was kneeling with all his might, head on the ground, continuously asking for forgiveness from you, continuously asking for more time, just a little more. He hates this, he hates it. Because, when it sank in, you were gone.

The scene of your death. ⁆ To Visualize :) But instead of it being Kousei playing the piano, it's Atsumu when he plays volleyball, but when someone comes up to him, tapping on his back with a bright smile for an interview after the game; it's not you.

[huihuiheart]

Spiked - Minho

Part of @clandestine-lixie ‘s Smutmas Collab and a great excuse to get some more Minho on my page! 

Summary: It’s pretty much tradition at this point that Changbin spikes the eggnog at the annual Christmas party. What happens though when secrets slip through drunk lips and aren’t forgotten the next morning? At least not forgotten by the very person you confessed to. 

Pairing: Minho x F! Reader

Warnings: Drinking (not drunk when having sex), drunken confessions?, cursing, some angst in the beginning, smut, lovemaking, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), oral (f! receiving), lots of petnames, moments where Minho is kinda smug, lots of praise, it’s sugary sweet, mild sir kink for a moment, fingering, some playful teasing.

I sincerely apologize but I haven’t had time to edit this yet, so...please excuse any errors and stuff I’ll be getting to those when I have some time. I wrote over half of this today with a migraine so we’re working on fumes here. Also if something seems off I apologize, I’ve never celebrated the holidays before so I honestly don’t know what Christmas is like....sorry.

Word Count: 4,992

“Awe don’t tell me you’re already finished taking bets? I haven’t even got mine in on how long before Changbin tries to get us all drunk.” You tease the rambunctious group in the living room as you remove your shoes by the door. Christopher joining you a moment later to help you with your coat, hanging it up for you as he often did. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum. Felix was just getting to the interesting wagers now anyways. Bets of any kind are in Minho’s care this evening. Gifts for tomorrow morning under the tree as always.”  Chris caught you up with where the ever excitable boys had already impatiently gotten up to, before stepping away with your coat so you could join the others.

“So what did I just miss then? You know the topic that had you all in a giggle fit?” You raise a brow as you claim a spot in their circle, between Minho and Hyunjin.

“Oh we were just discussing the last bet. Not that you’d be able to participate anyways seeing how it was about you.” Jisung smirks wickedly until you match his gaze with your own that was just as devious, making him fold in an instant, or so you think, “Just betting on whether we thought you’d stay the night or not this year.”

“That’s not interesting though, I stay practically every year cause I’m too drunk to go home alone and none of you will take me.” You chuckle shaking you head, “ A better bet would be who will get drunk the fastest, my money’s on Hyunjin.” 

Minho took your bet money counting it out before the other boys made their wagers too, writing them all down as more and more bets danced through your group. Both those typical for the Christmas party and those unique to this year for whatever reason. Debates starting up over a few of them as they always did.

“No I’m telling you Y/N will be the first one to admit it. She always gets loose lipped when she drinks.” Jisung teases despite the validity of his statement, something you’ve proven true to them at more than just the previous Christmas parties. 

“Still who she likes is the secret she guards more than anything else, she’d have to be so shitfaced for that to come out it would be ridiculous!” Changbin counters, “ My money is on Felix, he was practically giving it away unprompted last year. It wouldn’t be too hard to get it out of him if we really tried.” 

“Maybe that’s just cause Y/N doesn’t trust some of you to keep your mouths shut.” Christopher shrugs as he takes a seat, though all eyes are on him not because of the motion, but because of his words. Giving away that you had already confessed your crush to at least one person in the room. 

“Wait. So you told him, but you didn’t tell me? What do we even gossip for? Let I’m lowkey offended right now.” Hyunjin whines used to being your partner in crime when it came to exchanging secrets about your group, even the things you’d never tell anyone else. Trusting the other to lock it down tighter than even their own secrets, even if you exploited that information at times. Like when Hyunjin conveniently ended up paired with his crush for every game of the spring break party.

“In my defense I was distraught and looking for you when it slipped. Chris was just the only one around, so he’s the one who got that information.” You counter knowing there wasn’t any taking it back at this point anyways, Hyunjin barely accepting your answer with a grumble. You were somewhat glad that it was the case though, he’d surely exploit the information tonight if he had it. In this case you should be safe, or so you thought before you noticed the subtle smirk on Christopher’s face before he glanced between you and the very crush you’d revealed to him....Minho.

“Hey, the boys sent me to see if you needed any help.” Minho steps into the kitchen watching as you moved to pull something out of the oven. Most of the food had already been prepped before you arrived so you offered to be the one to actually cook it. This being the fourth time in an hour and a half that Minho had been sent to check on you, each time he showed up besides you though he announced himself with those same words....the boys sent me. Them digging a little deeper into your heart whenever you’d hear them again. It implying that that he never actually chose to come to you of his own will, only coming to you since the boys told him to.

“I’m fine Minho. You can go back to the others.” Your words were sharper than you intended and it nearly made you wince, even if he didn’t return your feelings he was still your friend and you shouldn’t be so harsh to him. Sometimes your feelings managed to rear their ugly head before you could stop them though, something you’d feel regret for later

“Rose....your thorns are showing again.” Minho’s gentle voice says the familiar phrase as he moves to stand at your side. His nickname for you with a subtle announcement of the fact that your emotions were slipping out quicker than you often registered, something he always managed to stay calm through no matter how snappy you sometimes got, “I don’t know what riled you up, and I don’t have to. You should go take a minute to calm down though. I’ll watch the food.”

The way he spoke to you was enough to calm you down enough to regain your composure, but not wanting to be so close to him and unintentionally get worked up again you conceded. Slipping outside into the frigid air for a few moments to collect yourself before finding the others in the living room again, sitting besides Christopher now.

“The eggnog spiked yet?” You question with a soft sigh as you lean against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle and nod, “Good, cause I’m going to need a drink to make it through the night.”

“You drunk yet Y/N?” Changbin teases as he pours you another glass. Internally cursing him out, he knew damn well he put something stronger in the eggnog this year without any warning. Knowing that you and Felix at least would try to keep up with everyone else despite being two of the light weights of the group. The others in that category smart enough to stop before they could make a fool out of themselves, even accidentally.

“Not drunk enough to lose to Felix or spill any secrets yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” You call him out, brow quirking as if to challenge him to tease you again. The alcohol buzzing through your system making you more confident in challenging them, even if it slowed your wit slightly. 

“Nah just wondering if you’re drunk enough to at least confess you’re spending the night? Well officially anyways. We thought of a way to determine who you’re going to stay with tonight.” Changbin brings his own glass to his lips, hiding his smirk knowing that Christopher had come to him and Hyunjin with a plan to rig it so that you’d end up with Minho. 

“Fine, I’ll confess to that.” You chuckle not catching onto their schemes, “So how are we figuring it out then? What’s your big, genius plan?” 

The sarcastic way you’re carrying yourself makes Hyunjin snicker, leaning towards Christopher, “Oh if only she knew...” He shakes his head slightly before shaping up, to hide any suspicious acts from you, “Simple, you’re just drawing the name out of a hat. You know the deal though, you only get to pick once and that’s who you’re stuck with.”

“Yeah, I know the deal.” You sit up further waiting for them to bring the hat over, the liquid courage running through you making you feel really good about your odds. It was only a 1 in 8 chance that you’d end up picking Minho, you were most likely safe from your crush. Well the possibility of embarrassing yourself while alone with him anyways. Or so you thought until you managed to pull his name out of the hat.

“Well.....I guess I’m rooming with Minho tonight....”

"Alright I think that's enough for one night." Minho takes the glass from you before you can get it refilled yet again. You'd lost count three drinks ago, hoping you'd get passed out drunk instead of having to face him. Luck wasn't on your side this evening though as Minho still had his wits about him and he refused to let you do something dangerous to your health.

"But Minho, if I'm not drinking what am I going to do?" Your whine is only added to by the small subconscious pout adorning your drunk face.

"We've both had enough and are going to bed now. It's 4 fucking 37 in the morning and you know someone's gonna be waking is up too goddamn early hangover or not. So if you wanna drink something it'll be water on the way to bed." Minho insists moving to help your inebriated form up from your seat on the floor and towards his upstairs bedroom.

"You can use the bathroom, I put some clothes in their for you so you can sleep comfortably." Minho sits on th edge of his bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through seeming almost entirely disinterested as you wobble off to the bathroom. Not getting far though before you have to pull the door open with a blush, your shirt wedged half on with only one arm successfully out.

"M-Minho I got stuck, c-can you help me?" Your words held no room for any hidden implications, especially not when panicked tears started to well in your eyes.

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm gonna help you and you'll be just fine." Minho coos trying to reassure you, not knowing your panic was partly due to having to face him like this. His warm hands gently in the way they helped untangle you from the shirt you'd somehow managed to get trapped in.

"There you go, all better. Now go get those warm clothes on and get in bed before the cold settles in too much." He insists gently wiping away the last of your tears before you returned to the bathroom.

Silence filled the space when you returned, saying nothing as you switched places with Minho. Sliding into the bed while he was in the bathroom. It wasn't like you'd never slept there before, staying with the boys frequently meant that you'd slept in all their beds at some point but never since your feelings for Minho had developed so much had you stayed in his. Never after you'd felt like you'd embarrassed yourself beyond repair in one evening either. Not realizing you were sniffling with a fresh batch of tears until Minho returned.

"Hey what's wrong rose? You've been upset all day. Please talk to me, we don't like when you're upset." Minho's brow furrows as he uses the paw of his sweater to gently wipe away the tears again.

"I-It's just so hard Minho. I don't know if I keep doing this." You feel exhausted from the alcohol, the excitement throughout the evening, and now an emotional breakdown too and yet you needed to get this off your chest or even that might not be enough to let you get rest tonight.

"What is? What's hard? What can't you do?" Minho asks feeling his heart bleed at your distress even if he was able to stay as calm as he was.

"L-Loving you...."

You had passed out nearly the moment those words had left your lips, but Minho couldn’t, not after your confession. It had been the last thing he’d seen coming after trying not to look desperate to you all day. Yet you’d confessed to him of all people and it weighed too heavily on his mind for the next two hours to even consider getting any sleep. Only getting maybe two hours in before an excited Jeongin bound in to try and wake you both up so everyone could come downstairs for Christmas. Though Minho ensured he never got to you before he shoved him out with hushing sound. Slipping down behind him to grab some water, coffee, and pain meds for when you’d wake up. Telling the boys you’d had a rough night, probably drank too much, and should be left alone to sleep as long as you needed. Not expecting you to already be shifting awake when he returned to the room. 

“Hey, you can sleep more if you want. It’s alright.” Minho gently brushes the hair out of your face as your eyes slowly blink open, leaning into the warmth of his touch without realizing, “I brought you meds and coffee if you’re felling hungover.”

You accept his help to sit up and take the meds, willing your fuzzy mind to clear enough to recall what happened the night before, “Minho...d-did I do anything last night? I-I can’t remember.”

Minho froze debating how he should answer that, he wanted to be honest with you, but after seeing how upset you were the night before he didn’t want to embarrass you at all, “W-Well, umm....”

“I-I said something didn’t I?” You could read his face for once, the calm demeanor gone and it telling you something had happened. The way his eyes widened at your question was enough to confirm what you thought as panic bubbled up and made your throat feel tight, “W-Whatever I said I didn’t-”

Minho cut you off by pressing his lips to yours quickly, feeling his own panic, “P-Please don’t say that you didn’t mean it. I think I would die if I lost the hope that you actually loved me back.”

The panic stopped almost instantly, feeling it dissipate as you processed his words, “L-Love you back?....Y-You mean you love me too? B-But you were acting like I was such a bother yesterday.”

Minho sits on the bed, pulling you into his arms before you could cry again, “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I-I just didn’t want to look desperate when I couldn’t think of a reason for you to love me too.” 

“You’re an idiot, I was literally like so obvious.” You whine softly and he chuckles though his focus seems to shift as his gaze falls to your lips, “You can kiss me again you know....a-after all we both just confessed so it would make sense to...”

Minho’s eyes flick back up to yours as a smirk forms on his face, but he makes no smart comment as he gives in to what both of you are wanting. Leaning in to kiss you again, less panicked this time as his lips softly meld with yours. Though the both of you were pouring too much emotion into it for it to become anything less than desperate. Now that you had each other you needed that more than air itself, it remaining sweet despite the way you both chased after each other as if afraid this would all disappear if you separated for any real stretch of time.  You feel the faintest trail as Minho’s hands move from holding you against his chest to cradling your head as he lays you back onto the bed. 

“If you want to take things slower then just say so. I-I just don’t want to let you go.” Minho’s voice comes out so light you wonder how you hear it over the beating of your own heart, especially with how it races when his lips press a fleeting trail down your jaw between his words. 

“Y-You don’t ever have to slow down Minho, I’ve wanted this.....wanted you for too long to do that now.” You insist with a low moan as his lips press a little firmer against a sweet spot on your neck.

Minho hums against your skin too caught up in you to care about words when he could show you how he felt better anyways. His hands gripping at your sides, thumbs rubbing soft circles as if he’s afraid he’ll break you by being too firm. So you decide to make a larger move, reaching to grip the hem of his sweater and pull it off him, letting your hands and eyes roam his newly exposed skin. The feel of his warm skin beneath your fingertips heating you up inside, the flame of desire flaring up faster than you would have thought possible if the person before you had been anyone other than Minho. Minho’s hands gripping yours before looking up at you for permission, hesitating even as you nod.

“You sure you won’t be too cold?” Minho’s fingers peak under the hem to rub gently at your skin beneath it.

“Well if I am then I guess you’ll just have to warm me up.” Your words seem to light the same fire in Minho as he doesn’t hesitate a second longer to his sweater off you. Hands running over your stomach to squeeze your breasts through the bra, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Guess I will.” Minho speaks against your lips, tone deepening as he lowers again moving to rid you of your bra as his lips trail towards your chest. You nipples pebbling slightly from the frigid air and his advances, but noticing the unpleasant chill that runs through you he presses against you more, letting his warmth radiate onto you. His warm mouth closing around your one nipple as his hand toys with and warms the other, switching between them with a new path of kisses to make sure they get equal attention.  Until he gets impatient to show his affections elsewhere and his mouth lowers while adding soft nips between kisses to reach the hem of the sweatpants he gave you to wear. His fingers nimble as they work on the tie, though he doesn’t do more than that until he has permission from you to pull them down and leave you in only your panties.

“Oh the thoughts I had while helping you get untangled from your shirt last night my flower, and to think now a few of them are becoming reality.” Minho places a kiss to your hip, as his hands gently spread your legs, loving the way he’s able to fluster you so easily, “I’ve been dying for a taste and you’re not making it any easier for me. May I?” 

The way he drags his thumb over the wet patch of your panties makes it hard to respond when you’re moaning and focused on that surge of pleasure, but the thought of getting something more urges you to form words, “Y-Yes please, I’ve been wanting to feel your mouth.”

“All you had to do was ask precious.” Minho gently blows against the wet patch making you squirm before kissing your thigh and slipping off your panties and lowering himself between your legs, placing the gentlest of kisses to your clit. The way you whine impatiently makes him chuckle against your core only making you squirm, his thumbs rubbing softly against your plush thighs as he grips them firmly to keep them open instead of impeding his work. He has no intent on tormenting you with teasing, not this morning anyways, but he still wants to savor the moment. The way he licks through your folds slow yet firm enough to spark delicious waves of pleasure through you, enough so that you can’t complain too much about his pace. Minho’s tongue and lips working everywhere to get every last drop of you that he can, while also focusing on your reactions to find what makes you feel the best. Knowing that his own patience will wear thin soon enough and he wants to know how to throw you over that sweet edge with more intensity than you thought possible, wanting to make all of you feel as amazing as his heart did upon hearing your confession. 

“M-Minho please, I want to feel all of you.” Desperation bleeds into your words and actions as you squirm against his grip, hips trying to roll against his mouth and it has his eyes darkening with a new surge of lust. Nearly giving into you pleas, but you’re his first priority and it has him pulling away slightly making you whimper.

“Shh pretty girl, shh.” Minho coos softly, grip loosening as he runs his hands over your thighs and hips trying to get you to relax some, “Calm down, don’t get so worked up. I’ll give you what you want, I promise. You just need to calm down so that I can get you ready for me. We’ve waited a long time I know, but you can be good and wait just a little longer can’t you?”

This time a simple nod isn’t enough for him as he’s a little firmer with you in this moment, pinching your thigh lightly as he demands your words, “Y-Yes sir, I can be good for you.”

Minho has to take a deep, shuttering breath when he hears the word sir fall from your lips so perfectly, now was not the time to lose control, not when he wanted to show you every emotion he’d had trapped inside for so long. Not when he knew there’d be plenty of time for that later. Yet, it does have him snap a little as he dives between your legs again with more purpose. Lips suckling and kissing your clit like his survival depended on it, eyes locked on your face as he feels your fingers weave into his hair. The soft tug you give has him moaning against your clit, only adding to that pleasure as he eases a finger in, though it’s not long before he’s able to add another. Curling them with each thrust in search of the spot that would have you trembling against him, thriving off the pleasure he’d able to feed you right now, nothing else in the world mattering more than your cries for him and the way you lose yourself to the sensations. He knows he’s found that spot, when you’re clenching around him, practically sucking his fingers in, thighs shaking as your edge hovers so close and yet just barely out of reach. 

“Minho, please I’m close. Please make me cum or give me your cock, I-I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Your pleas sound magical to Minho, it being enough for him to give you what you want, speeding up his fingers as his tongue flicks against your clit as he brings it between his lips again. Willing to throw your over the edge for the first time, so that he can have you losing his own patience as your nails drag lightly over his shoulders. The was you fall apart beneath him is like a work of art, the most beautiful Minho has ever seen as he slips his fingers from your spasming core to gently lick over you and ride you through the pleasure until you come back to him. Kissing you briefly before licking his fingers clean while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“You’re sweeter than I ever could have imagined my flower.” Minho hums in approval, his smirk almost showing more in his eyes than on his lips. You’re quick to respond though not wanting him to drag it out any longer.

“I bet we’d taste sweeter together, but there’s only one way to find that out now isn’t there?” You purr back as your fingers work to untie his sweatpants, gripping both them and his undergarments to impatiently push both down at once. Freeing his beautiful, hardened length to you finally. Not giving him to to ask for your permission before you rub his tip through your folds, leg locking around his waist to urge his hips closer. Your actions seem to be enough as he places his hands on either side of you, slowly pushing in and leaning in as he gives you a moment to adjust to him.

“You were awfully loud earlier flower, if you don’t quiet down then all the boys will know what we’ve been up to. Do you want that?” Minho’s question is somewhat serious, but it also holds a teasing to it as he’s proud of the fact that he can make you feel good enough to be so loud. You getting him back by rolling your hips against him and earning a groan from him. Hands slipping around his neck to tug him down and tease his lips with your own.

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” Your words are almost daring and they have him crashing his lips messily against yours as his own hips start to move against you. The patience between you both is gone as he finds a quick pace and yet he’s not manhandling or overly rough in his treatment, the erotic scene still one of passionate lovers. Baring their emotions to each other in the most desperate of ways despite not being able to handle a slow pace any longer. It being everything you could have asked for and more, right now you didn’t need the soft, slow lovemaking. You need this the desperate lovemaking, the kind that showed that Minho had been longing for you just as much as you’d been longing for him. The kind that showed that you were his now and that he would show you that in every way possible for as long as you would ask it of him. Where every move he made was to find what made you feel best, because you were what he most cared for in this world and where it was so much better than he could have imagined that he wasn’t sure if he could hold off. Though he was intent on your pleasure coming first as he angled himself to perfectly hit the spots he found brought you the most pleasure with each drag of his cock, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit as his other hand tangled into your hair to keep your lips pressed against his. Taking in all of your moans as your pleasure explodes once more, the feeling of you cumming on his cock enough to send him spiraling into his own high as he moans into your mouth in response. Slowing his thrusts as he rides you both through your highs. Hands gently tracing shapes over your heated flesh, finding you glowing in the aftermath of your climax.

“Come on my flower, I’ll help you shower before we join the others.” Minho kisses your forehead softly before scooping you up to take you to the bathroom. Getting you in the steaming shower as quickly as he can so that you won’t have to face the cold while bare for too long and so that you two can be quick enough to be able to get some food in before the others ate everything. Not that he wouldn’t cook you up a good breakfast if it came down to it. Willing to shower you in all affections imaginable after what you both had just done. Though before long Minho had you both cleaned up and in warm fresh clothes, going down the stairs to join the others.

“Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?” Jisung questions Minho slyly as if they hadn’t all heard what you two had been up to earlier. Minho knew what he meant, but still didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah well I took a shower, so I put on something else.” Minho shrugs pulling out a seat for you, before taking his own so you two could eat breakfast as well.

“Oh did Y/N shower too? Her hair is all damp still.” Jisung innocently inquires taking a bite of his pancake trying to hide his smug expression. Minho gently moving your damp hair away from your bare skin so that it wouldn’t get too chilled.

“Well then you obviously know the answer.” Minho rolls his eyes adding his portion of whipped cream and other sweet toppings to your plate instead of his own.

“Hm I just find that interesting considering we only heard one shower running.” Jisung smirks at you both as the others snicker and chuckle, teasing you all through breakfast while exchanging knowing looks. 

The teasing had died down some later as you all gathered around to exchange gifts. Feeling your heart stutter as you hold Minho’s in your hands, the man seeming flustered as you go to open it. Finding a small necklace inside one that looked like a lifeline with a heart at the end, flipping it over to find his initials on the back besides yours. 

“So if things had been different this would have been when I confessed.” He admits in a soft whisper into your ear,  a blush adorning his cheeks so beautifully as you laugh softly.

“It’s alright I liked the way things turned out much better anyways.” Minho admits before the guys pretend to gag and whine at all the pda they were witnessing.

“Alright enough of the mushy stuff, you have to open mine next.” Hyunjin dramatically insists shoving his gift in front of you, a pretty envelope sitting on top and beckoning you to open the card first. Your attention immediately drawn to a special little note at the bottom...

PS. Minho’s name was the only one in that hat.

“Well guess I ruined your little plan huh?” You tease, flustering along with him as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek in front of everyone.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

helping heart

request: hi so i have chronic migraines, which means at least once a month (sometimes more) i get a migraine that is so bad that my vision is blurred and sometimes i even puke. and so i just got over one and i was wondering if you could write a mgg fic where he helps the reader through one? cause that would be great :) thank you!!

word count: 1,607                                                                                     reading time aprox: 6 mins

masterlist

My brain pulsated at an inhuman rate, thumping against the walls of my skull. Waves of agony spasmed throughout my head, reverberating through the soft muscle that resided in it. I forcibly shut my eyes, shielding them from any source of light, despite me already cornered in a dark room. 

I sat in Matthew’s trailer waiting for him to finish a few of his scenes. But what I didn’t know was that I would have to push through an oncoming migraine alone. I shuddered in the white fluffy blanket that was wrapped around me, it smelled of pumpkin spice and Matthew’s worn out cologne. A buzz coming from the fridge invaded my sensitive ears, making the entire experience more intolerable. 

I feebly pulled the covers over my head, drowning myself in my own darkness. An inaudible whimper escaped my lips, a reflex from the oscillating intensity of my migraine. I curled up in the fetal position, feeling my stomach begin to cramp up. I felt the bile begin to build up like plaque in the back of my esophagus, threatening to spill over any moment. 

Suddenly the door opened, letting light protrude from the outside. Matthew’s soothing voice met my ears, amused at the high pitched voice cracks in between his words. Despite my relief at his presence, my body continued to throb at an agonizing rhythm. 

“Okay thanks again BJ- no, yeah I’ll- I’ll see you in a few, bye” He laughed, sending chills down my spine from the volume at which he spoke. Usually I would have no problem with the gregarious ferocity of his voice, but my circumstances limited me to a shrill feeling in my eardrums. “Huh...why is this-” He flipped on the light switch, eliciting a groan from me. 

“Matthew can you turn that back off please?” I meekly requested, shutting my eyes tighter than they already were. I flipped around on my stomach, stuffing my face into the pillow under me. 

“Hey baby- migraines again?” He asked, shuffling closer to where I was after he had dimmed the lights. “Do you need anything?” He asked, kneeling down beside me; his voice came out like a whisper: soft and pacified. 

A muffled ‘no’ slipped passed my lips while the cushions I laid on sunk, indicating that Matthew had sat himself at my feet. He ran his fingers up and down the side of my ankle in a tender manner, humming a calming melody in the process. 

“How was filming?” I croaked, feeling the muscles in my throat tense up at the utterance of my words while I turned around to face him.. My voice was raspy with phlegm from not speaking all day, earning a concerned look from Matthew. 

“It was pretty okay. I have a few more scenes to shoot and I’m done for the day” He declared, reaching his arms out to invite me into his embrace. I gracefully accepted his offer, fitting perfectly into the vast space of his arms. I breathed in his scent, basking in the instant gratification I received from the warmth that embodied him.

“What else did you do today?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, looking up at him from below his shoulder. My head rested perfectly against his chest as I inquired about his daily adventures. 

“I got brunch with AJ, bothered Aubrey [Plaza] a little bit, and antagonized a toddler. You know all the normal things” He confessed, earning a stifled laugh from me. 

“Sounds like your day was eventful” I replied, nuzzling my head into his blazer. I felt the cotton fibers brush against my cheeks, sending a tickling sensation down my nose. He placed a longing kiss to the top of my head, using his hand to brush away the tangled hair that had accumulated when I was resting. 

“Yeah it was…” He whispered, muffling his voice in my hair. “But it would’ve been better with you” He sweetly confessed, placing a finger under my chin to pull me into a chaste kiss. “See...already much better” He joked after he pulled away. 

A faint blush made its way to the apples of my cheeks, shaking my head in wonder at how this man still made me feel nervous after two years of putting up with him. My fingertips hovered over the crevice of his neck, feeling the individual spikes of stubble graze my skin. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He asked once again, caressing my cheek with his thumb. 

Before I could nod and reassure him, a wave of nausea washed over me causing the contents in my stomach to be regurgitated. I pushed myself off of Matthew forcefully, sprinting to the small bathroom in his trailer. I struggled to pull my hair out of my face as my stomach acid burned the layering skin of my throat. I choked and wheezed, feeling my body weaken at the sudden expulsion of liquid. I hadn’t even realized that Matthew stood behind me propping my hair up into a ponytail until he had laid a consoling hand on the small of my back. 

I groaned in pain, tears trailing down my cheeks as I shut down entirely. I prayed for the ache to stop, hoping that my migraine would end up in the toilet just as my lunch did. Saliva dripped down my chin, making the scene an unattractive mess. Matthew handed me a paper towel afterwards, letting me clean myself off while he waited by the door. 

Once I finished, I opened the door with an embarrassed grimace. My eyes were still sunken and grim because of all the crying that I did, my cheeks flushed alongside it. I whimpered, falling into Matthew’s arms while he whispered positive affirmations. 

“Let me take care of you bubs” He declared, swooping me up bridal style and carrying me to the bed in the back of his trailer. He set me down, bringing a few fluffy blankets to adjust my comfort. He kissed my forehead before leaving the small room to fetch something. 

I trailed my hands along the soft sheets of his bed, letting each fiber in my body focus on the warmth that the covers provided me rather than the discomfort that flooded my body. I was still dizzy from my trip to the bathroom, my vision a bit too wonky and disoriented for my liking. 

With the sound of shuffling feet, Matthew made his way back to the bedroom with a hot cup of tea and a heated eye mask. “I thought this would help alleviate the pain a little bit” He smiled sheepishly, causing my heart to inflate at the small sentiment. 

I kissed his cheek as a sign of gratitude, immediately grabbing the heated eye mask out of his hands. He laughed at my haste, sitting down next to me at the edge of the bed. 

“Is there anything else you need?” 

“I have all that I need here” I professed, leaning my head against his hip. “Come cuddle” I demanded, making grabby hands at him. He playfully groaned in response, curling up next to me as he pulled me to his chest. He peppered kisses on the top of my head, exhaling in reprieve as he finally was able to share a moment with the woman he loved. 

“You know what Y/N?” 

“What is it?” I beckoned, my mouth muffled in his shirt. 

“At least you weren’t throwing up because you’re pregnant” He teased, pushing a few stray hairs off my forehead. 

“Is that something you’re interested in? Getting pregnant?” I implied, nudging him jokingly. His throat vibrated against my head while he laughed, a few straggled coughs escaping his lips at my suggestion. 

Silence engulfed the room, leaving the both of us in each other's arms. The feeling of security I felt in Matthew’s arms was inexplicable, reveling in the fact that I was able to be beside this man. Love radiated from the both of us as we were grateful for each other's company.  

“I wouldn’t mind” He spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. I hummed against his chest in confusion, looking up at him to proceed. “I wouldn’t mind if we had a little kid to have around” He confessed, pressing his lips on my forehead. 

“Weren’t you just yelling at a toddler before you got in here” I quipped. 

“To be completely fair, I think the guy was sent in to replace me on the show” He laughed. 

“Well if that was ever the case, then you’d have more time to spend if we ever had a little one to take care of” I replied, diverting the conversation back to the subject we were tip-toeing around earlier. 

“That would be really nice” He cherished the idea while I pictured a world where Matthew was a dad and where I was lucky enough to start a life with him. 

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N” 

“Well I’m even luckier to have someone take care of me even if I almost got puke all over their wardrobe” I teased, nuzzling into him further. “But I love you so much goobs” 

“Did you just call me goob-” 

“Shut up, I literally professed my love to you and all you do is complain?” 

He chuckled, pulling me in closer to him, wrapping the covers around the both of us, creating a perfect environment for slumber. Both of our breathing steadied, letting the heaviness of our eyes take control. With the last few conscious huffs of air, Matthew whispered a few words that explained all that he felt. 

“I love you even more” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @linthebinbag​ @honeymilk-4​

cute lil fluffy one since i’ve been so angsty

[spencessmile]

Migraine

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader 

Summary - You have a migraine & Spencer wants nothing more than to help you feel better. 

Warnings  - None

Word Count - 1,761 words 

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. 

Feedback and Comments are always welcome. Happy reading! 

Requests are open!

**  

"Babe, are you okay?" You looked at Spencer grabbing your second coffee of the day from the small kitchenette. "You look a little pale." 

You leaned against the counter, taking in the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. "Spence," You put a hand on his arm. "I'm fine." You assured him.

"Morning lovebirds," Morgan called as he walked into the bullpen with his arm around Garcia. Just a few months ago you told you the team that you and Spencer were seeing each other and Derek made it his second job to tease you and Spencer about it. You never bothered you in fact you found it weirdly cute.

"Please tell me there is more coffee because I have donuts!" Emily said, walking in holding two boxes of donuts. 

"Oh!" Spencer cheered, you slightly winced at his voice. "Did you happen to get any-?" 

"Chocolate frosted with sprinkles? How could I forget your favourite?" Emily said, putting the boxes down as everyone dove in the boxes. 

"Good morning!" JJ cheered, holding her go-to bag and her mug of coffee. "Oh, donuts!" She said rushing over. 

"Pretty girl?" Morgan said. "Don't you want any? This sweet honey glazed donut is yelling your name," He motioned towards the box. 

"Nah," You shook your head. "I'm okay." 

"Since when do you refuse donuts? You love donuts," Morgan was right, you had a major sweet tooth and donuts were always your thing. You considered donuts to be your comfort food.

"I know," You said. "For today I'll stick to this protein bar," You said, walking to your desk. You sat down and started on the stack of paperwork. 

Three more cups of coffees and hours later, you felt your head starting to pound, the bright fluorescent lights above you weren't helping at all. You put your head in your hands and closed your eyes. 

You were so tired last night that you and Spencer got into bed as soon as you stepped foot into the apartment but the only problem was while Spencer slept peacefully you couldn't get in a blink of sleep. You kept twisting and turning, sometimes feeling too hot or too cold. 

Now you found yourself rubbing your temples trying to soothe the pain. To the right of you JJ, Emily, Garcia, Morgan, and Spencer were all loudly arguing about the Bermuda triangle. You tried to shut out their voices but every second you tried the louder their voices got louder. 

You couldn't take it anymore so you snapped. "Can you all please shut up, please?!”

The team looked over at you, all of them in shock because you were known to be a very quiet and reserved person, you never raised your voice. 

"Woah," Morgan said. "You could have just asked politely, pretty girl," Morgan laughs. "Someone’s a little snappy this morning," Morgan was referring to something you may have said earlier that came out in the wrong tone of voice. 

You push your chair out slightly and straighten your legs, you put your forehead down on the table, the cold table feeling good. 

You felt someone crouch down beside you but kept your eyes shut. 

"Your not okay, are you?" You heard Spencer say softly. You didn't say anything, your hands were wrapped around your head blocking out the lights and it felt amazing. "I'm going to tell Hotch that we're heading home for the day," You lifted your head to stop Spencer but as soon as the lights were beaming down on you, you winced in pain.

"No," You say. "I'm fine. It's just a small headache." 

Spencer grabbed your hands. "It's not a headache. Y/n, you're having a migraine," You didn't want to admit it but Spencer was right you were having a migraine and it was bad. "How many times have I told you to tell me when you're having migraines?" He asked. "Y/N, migraines aren't a small thing. I know exactly how they feel." 

All your life people always thought you were overacting when you told them how bad your migraines were until you met Spencer and found out he also had them. You were sort of relieved in a way knowing you weren’t alone. You two always took care of each other. 

"I didn't want you to worry." 

"Well, I am worried now because you look like you're in so much pain and I don't like seeing you in pain, you know that." 

"I know," You responded. "I'm sorry." 

"Give me two minutes and I'm gonna go and speak with Hotch." 

"But I have all this paperwork to finish," You motioned to the stack of paperwork on your desk. 

"The paperwork is always going to be there. I'll be right back," With that Spencer left for Hotch's office. 

You stood up and walked towards the group. "I'm sorry for snapping at you guys, I didn't mean to."

"It's alright pretty girl," Morgan assured you.

"Are you not feeling well?" JJ asked. 

"I've never told anybody but Spence this," You breathe. "But ever since I was 10 years old I get really bad migraines. It takes me days to fully recover from them. Today is the first one I've had in months and it's starting to take the best of me." 

"Oh," Garcia said, "You poor thing. We're so sorry for being loud," Garcia hugged you. 

"It's not your fault. You didn't know," You said. 

"Well, some people don't know how to use their indoor voices," Garcia smacked Morgan's shoulder. 

"Ouch baby girl, that was uncalled for." 

"Your loud-ass voice, hurt our baby angel's head," Garcia said. 

Baby angel was a nickname Garcia had for you from the day you started working alongside this team. You don't remember where it came from but you liked it, a lot. 

"I wasn't the only one talking loudly," Morgan argued. 

"Chocolate thunder, we were using our indoor loud voices. You were using your outdoor loud voice." She explains. 

"Alright," Spencer said, walking towards you. "Let's go home," Spencer grabbed the files off of your desk and his and shoved them into his satchel. 

"Okay." 

"I need everyone in the round table in two minutes. We have a case," You turn around hearing Hotch's voice. 

Before you could say anything Spencer moved in front of you. 

"Wrong way beautiful,”  He said, putting his Stachel on. 

"Spence," You said. "We have a case,” You said pointing to Hotch. 

"No," He said. "The team has a case," Everyone laughs at your reaction. "You and I are going home." 

"But I wan-"

"Nope," Spencer shook his head, taking your hand in his and dragging you before you could continue to protest. 

"I just want everyone to know that I'm being taken against my will." You yelled across the room and everyone laughed. "Please be safe! Love you guys." You say as Spencer guides you towards the elevator.  

You squinted at the lights in the elevator. 

"Baby, wear your sunglasses," Spencer said, kissing your hand. 

"It was the worst day to forget them." 

"I always tell you to keep your sunglasses on you Y/N," Spencer said, digging into his satchel and handing you his spare pair. 

"You said you only keep one pair of sunglasses?" You said as you put on his sunglasses. 

"I always keep an extra pair in here for you." 

"You’re the sweetest baby," You said kissing his cheek. 

The car ride was silent because you fell asleep the second you leaned back in your seat. Spencer drove in silence, occasionally looking at you, frowning wondering how much pain you've must have been in the last couple of hours and he didn't know. 

"Y/N," Spencer opened your door and unbuckled your seat belt. 

You groaned in response. "Baby come on, we're home," You mumbled something but Spencer couldn't tell what you said so he wrapped your bag around his shoulder, picked up you in bride style, and closed the car door with his foot. 

When he finally reached the apartment he fiddled with his key, jamming into the lock and getting the door open. He shut it quickly with his foot and headed straight for the bedroom. He gently placed you down, draping the blanket over you. 

He dropped his satchel and your bag to the floor and walked to the kitchen to get you some Tylenol and water. When he walked back in the room he noticed that you were awake. 

"When did we get home?" You asked, rubbing your head. 

"I tried to wake up but you completely ignored me and continued sleeping," You chuckled as Spencer handed you the pill and the glass of water. 

"Well, I'm sorry you felt ignored." You washed the pill down with water. 

"I didn't feel ignored. I was glad you got some shut-eye." You put the glass down. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?" 

"I was so tired but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't sleep." 

"You should have woken me up." Spencer rubbed your thigh, in a comforting way. 

"\You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you up," Spencer shook his head at you. 

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe some che-" 

"I just want you to hold me," You answered, simply.

"You should eat something before you sleep." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"Ba-" 

"Spence please I'm not hungry. Just hold me," You said. 

"Okay," Spencer climbed onto his side of the bed, and you laid your head in his lap, as Spencer pulled the blanket, wrapping it around his legs and you. 

"You're the comfiest pillow ever," You mumbled as you felt your eyes starting to get heavy. 

"I'm glad I bring you comfort," Spencer smiled down at you, running his hand through your hair. 

"Oh my god," You groaned. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned. 

"Your fingers are a god-given gift," You said. "Continue, please." 

"So I've been told," Spencer spoke, causing your cheeks to blush as you pushed the blanket further up to your face. "I love you,” He laughed, kissing your temple. 

"I love you too." You mumbled. 

** 

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit - Khalil Gibran