#and like y'all my heart just /melted/ i was like this is when I die | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months ago

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♥︎ ₵₳₦ĐɎ ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: lead singer!boyfriend!yuta x chubby!fem!bassist reader (you get mark & johnny as bandmates too so that's fun)

♥︎ Genre: rockstar au/fluff/angst/smut

♥︎ Summary: Joining your favorite band was a dream come true. That is until you fell for the lead singer who has no shortage of groupies throwing themselves at him. He says he loves you but can you really trust him? I mean, you used to be a groupie too after all.

♥︎ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♥︎ Warnings: Strong language. If you don't like curse words I'm sorry babes. I'm a potty mouth. Unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, rough sex, a lil choking, nibbling, scratching, fingering, marking, oral sex (f receiving), tattoos/piercings, pet names (daddy, baby, etc), a lil drop of mutual possessiveness.

♥︎ A/N: I've really been trying to have more fun with my fics and just let my brain do it's thing so I hope y'all have fun with it too, darlings.

“Yuta, I fucking love you!” an obnoxiously tipsy female voice screams from the crowd.

A bra comes soaring from the sea of bodies packed into the pit at the edge of the stage. The pink lace fabric lands at Yuta’s feet, draping itself across his scuffed black combat boots. Any band knows that when you stop the show to do something — tune your guitar, take a sip of water — it’s prime opportunity for anything to happen. And it almost always will.

It’s not like you can blame her. Once upon a time you’d been one of those girls in the crowd, lost in the chaos of the night. There’s nothing like it, the rush that you get when your heart seems to sync with the violent bashing of the drums. The distorted guitars like electric coursing through your veins. Every lyric floats through the air, becoming more and more a part of you with each breath you take in.

Then there was him…

Nakamoto Yuta. When your friends were all drooling over him you’d pretend you weren't interested. You’d never be so basic as to fall for the lead singer of the band. Maybe he did have the sort of voice that makes a girl melt even when he’s growling the filthiest lyrics. Especially when there’s growling. And maybe he did have bone structure to die for.

Then there were the tattoos, piercings, and the way sweat glistened on his chest halfway through a show. You weren’t won over by any of that. It was all about the music, one artist appreciating another. So when Yuta’s bassist quit the band and your manager broke the news that she’d gotten you an audition your intentions were purely artistic.

In this industry, a girl’s gotta work twice as hard as the guys to prove she can do half of what they can. You worked your ass off session after session, easily demolishing any other bassist their label could’ve suggested. You earned your spot in the band ten times over. Made sure no one could question why you were there. Then and only then did you let Yuta fuck your brains out.

Before shows, after shows. Tour buses. Hotels. Airport bathrooms. Green rooms. Whenever. Wherever. However. In the studio and onstage it was still about the music but everything else? All of it was driven by how much you lusted for and, much to your dismay, loved one another.

Recalling the heavenly experience it is to be bent over a bathroom sink with Yuta so deep inside of you that you feel it in the back of your throat, you can’t really blame Ms. Pink Lace for tossing her bra at him.

Kneeling down to pick up the bra, Yuta takes a look back at you. The most innocent face in the world, his baby angel, geared up and ready to commit murder.

You can’t really blame her but—

Fuck it. You do.

“I think she wants to come backstage after the show!” a guy shouts from the other side of the stage, garnering laughter from the crowd. Yuta smiles as he approaches the mic stand, the bra dangling from his fingers by the strap. “I think she wants my girl to kick my ass,” Yuta laughs, pushing his messy hair back out of his face.

“Kick his ass” Johnny whispers into his mic from the safety of his drum kit. Nearly spitting out the sip of water you’ve just taken, you toss the rest back at Johnny. The years of experience he has over you come in handy as he expertly dodges it.

“Boo, she doesn’t like to share!” Ms. Pink Lace shouts, not quite ready to back down.

Yuta steps aside and turns to you once more, “You wanna come answer this?” You unplug your bass and stroll to Yuta’s side with the sweetest smile on your face. “Do I share him?” you ask as if it’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard in your life. It is. You lay your hand flat on his chest, running it all the way down to the waist of his pants. Looping a finger around his belt, you pull him closer and into a kiss deep enough to make you both forget you’re on stage.

When you finally break away, you borrow his mic for a quick announcement. “Our next song is called ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’!” Taking the bra from Yuta, you put it on over your dress. Ever the supportive boyfriend, he clasps it in the back for you and plants another kiss on your lips before you skip back to your spot.

“Well, then…” Yuta sings, “This is ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’” Mark laughs, strumming his guitar to warm up, “In your fucking dreams, parenthesis, thanks for the new bra.” The crowd cheers, basking in the chaos of it all. You plug your bass back up, ready to shred hard enough that your fingers bleed. You’re pissed, all of the boys know it, but the show must go on.

There’s no crying in punk rock.

“Are you crying?” Mark asks, spotting you amongst the legions staff shuffling around the halls backstage. “No” you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “The lights were just hot and—” He grabs you by the arm, turning you to face him. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Overhearing the conversation as he passes, Johnny doubles back. “Are you—” Johnny starts but figures it out before he has to speak another word, “Wait, don’t tell me you’re upset about that bra thing.” Feeling cornered, you try to push them aside but they don’t budge an inch. “Look, no. I don’t know. I’m just—fuck just leave me alone okay!” you snap, another wave of tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Yuta finally catches up, his exhaustion turning to concern when he sees you. If you’re upset, even over the tiniest thing, everything stops for him including the urge to pass out after a show. He takes you by the hand, bringing you into his arms. He’s sticky and wet but his embrace is comforting all the same. “Baby,” he says softly, petting your hair, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” With so many eyes on you, you aren’t quite sure how to admit that Johnny’s right.

You are upset about the bra thing. Upset, embarrassed, angry, hurt — every mixture of things — and you can’t make sense of any of it. “Can we just go back to the hotel?” you ask, gathering whatever composure you have left. Yuta hesitates but gives in when he sees your eyes begging “Please”. “Uh, yeah. You guys—” he sighs, looking to the others. Johnny and Mark nod, getting the hint.

Mark pats him on the shoulder before walking ahead, “Got it, bro. We’ll catch you tomorrow.” Johnny hangs back for a second, leaning in to whisper into your ear, “Don’t worry, he’s so whipped for you. It’s, like, super sad.” Johnny’s comment gets a giggle out of you which is all he needed to feel okay walking away.

Yuta leads you back to the green room where he stays glued to you as you wait for the okay from your manager to leave. You’re relieved when you can finally go, the fresh night air soothing the suffocating feeling that’s been terrorizing you for the past hour. The ride back to the hotel is quiet with most of your time spent zoning out in the kaleidoscope of lights cast on you as you pass the local shops.

You can feel Yuta watching you, his hand firmly and lovingly holding yours, but can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not only are you the only girl in the band, you replaced someone fans already loved. Each night you have to fight for their respect, you knew this already. Now falling for him meant you had to fight for it in more ways than one. The girls will always be there in numbers your brain can’t even fathom, willing to do things that your brain, unfortunately, can fathom in nauseating detail.

“A girlfriend to a rockstar is like a bicycle to a fish. Fucking useless.”

That’s what one of the producers had advised him when you were supposed to be in the booth cluelessly recording your portion of a song. Those words crawled into the pit of your stomach, spreading doubt like a disease ever since.

By the time you’re done spiraling, you’re upstairs seated at the foot of the bed in your hotel room. Contrary to popular belief, your band’s not the type to trash hotel rooms. That’s why you get to book places as beautiful as this with little to no resistance. Everything’s sleek and modern with large three-panel windows that overlook the city. Abstract paintings adorn the walls making it feel more like an art gallery than a place you sleep but the warm overhead lighting saves it from feeling too stuffy.

“Hey, uh, could you shower with me?” Yuta asks, drawing your attention to the bathroom door. It’s only now that you notice the shower running and Yuta standing there in a towel. “I’d shower alone but I have a fear of showers” he adds, “Shower phobia. I’ve had it really bad since I was a kid.” “And Mark says I’m a shitty liar” you tease, flopping back onto the bed.

You can’t see Yuta but you hear him shuffling across the smooth carpeted floor. He stops at your feet, dropping to his knees and laying his head in your lap. Almost on their own, your fingers find a way into his hair and silky strands swirl around them. Yuta breathes in deep, hoping what he says next will soothe you. “You’re enough for me. You know that, right?”

Time seems to freeze and you along with it. Something you love about him, his ability to seemingly always know how you’re feeling, has finally come back to bite you in the ass. Why can’t he just be content pretending nothing happened?

“Yuta, I—” you say, sitting up enough to catch him staring at you the same way he had in the car. Only this time you don’t dodge his gaze, you let it pull you in. The man looking up at you isn’t the one in the magazines or on stage. There’s no act, only him and a heart pledged to you before you'd even known it. “What happened tonight, I’m sorry” he apologizes, “I can do better. I will.”

“What? No!” you gasp, bringing you both up so that you’re eye to eye, “Please don’t apologize. That’s not what I wanted.” Still on his knees, Yuta slips his hands beneath your dress, fingers massaging your plush thighs. Touching you isn’t always sexual. Sometimes he just wants to be connected to you. This is one of those times. Feeling your body warm against his palms eases the anxiety knocking around in his head. Even though you’re upset your body still responds with pleasure to him, giving into his touch. That’s how he knows he hasn’t lost you. The day it doesn’t—well, he tries not to imagine that.

“Do you think I’d cheat on you?” he asks, catching you off guard with his directness. You place a hand on each of his cheeks, squishing them together so his lips purse like the cutest fish you’ve ever seen. Yuta makes little smooching noises and you give him a peck on the lips. “I know you wouldn’t do that” you sigh, relaxing your hold on his cheeks, “But there’s a million girls out there who want you. I’m only one. What if someday you meet a girl and she’s everything you never knew you wanted?”

Yuta says nothing in response, simply staring at you for so long that you want to shake him to see if he’s alive. “There are a million other girls…” he admits, “Which is good for all of the guys I know want you because there’s only one of you and you’re mine.”

“Oh, Yuta, come off it—”

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit how many girls are out there. You never have to worry about me finding what I never knew I wanted” he promises, gripping your hips to bring you in so tight that your legs are already wrapped around him. His lips brush yours, hitting you with a wicked mixture of chills and hot flashes. “I know who I want,” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Who I love. I choose you. No one else. Can you trust that? For me?”

The sincerity in his voice, how it trembles with emotion when he says that he loves you, resonates more than anything he’s ever sung. His hands ease towards your inner thighs and they part for him instantly. The pad of his thumb brushes your clit through your panties and you shudder. “Yes,” you moan between his lips as his mouth captures yours. His kiss is like quicksand, the more you move the faster it drags you in. But there’s nothing to be done about it.

You’re ravenous for each other, your tongues performing an intricate dance that tangles you together. The movement of his thumb against your clit quickens, your hips arching to beg for more. “You love me baby?” he asks, trailing kisses down your chin. Tugging your panties to the side, his fingertips tease the slippery warmth of your entrance. “Yes, I…” you squeak, shivering when his fingers plunge into you, “Love you so much.”

Yuta’s tongue tickles your neck, love bites marking his way to your cleavage. “Tell me I’m yours,” he says, making no attempt to hide how desperate he is to hear you say it. Your walls clench around his fingers. He flexes them in response, the stretch so satisfying that your eyes nearly roll back. “I want you to own it so say it” he urges, pushing in deeper, “Tell me I’m yours.” Your arms come around his neck, your best attempt at staying upright.

“You’re mine. All mine” you moan, the faintest hint of possessiveness peeking through. It’s music to his ears, turning him on to the point that the towel’s virtually useless now in hiding how hard he is. Reaching between your bodies, you take him into your hand to delight in what you’ve done to him. Stroking up and down you feel the blood rushing up his shaft — veins throbbing, his arousal decorating your chipped nail polish.

“Is this mine too?” you joke, teasing the head of his cock with light circular movements. “Fuck, yes. You want it?” he mumbles, his face buried between your tits. He can barely breathe, he’s probably lightheaded, and it’s worth it. Gripping him by the back of the head, you bring him eye to eye with you again. “I want it” you grin, the fullness in your lower belly intensifying.

Yuta sticks his tongue out, curling it to wet his lips. Catching you off guard, he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back on the bed. Keeping you pinned by your neck, his free hand tears your panties to the side. His mouth latches onto your clit, licking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re completely at his mercy, only able to shake and moan as he devours you. His tongue runs between the petal soft lips of your pussy, your juices the best drink he’s had all night.

“Find someone else?” he scoffs, taking a handful of your belly, “Who else’s pussy tastes this good, hmm?” His tongue slams into you, the hand around your throat bringing you flush against his face.

“Yuta, oh god — fuck — you can’t say things like that” you whimper, clawing at the sheets.

“Or what?”

Yuta pulls back, his face soaked with your juices, “Is my baby gonna cum if I tell her how good she tastes?” Refusing to wait for your answer, his tongue dips back inside of you. The ridges of your walls glide across his tastebuds, pulsing each time he swirls around and around. He’s relentless, letting up only for quick breaths of air. “So wet and so — mmm — fucking good” he groans, kissing your inner thigh.

When his tongue meets your core again you feel tingling in the tips of your toes and fingers. The tension in your stomach rises, your breaths growing shallow. Yuta releases your neck, locking his arms around your thighs to keep them spread. “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Cum for me.”

Pulling his tongue out, he drags it across your clit and sends you crashing over the edge. You throw your hand over your mouth, suppressing the incoherent moans that spill from your lips. Yuta snatches your hand away, holding you by the wrist just in time to hear those last few moans escape. Not missing a beat, he hops up and brings your limp body with him.

Disoriented, the rubbing of your thighs against your core causing some aftershock, you struggle to gain your footing. “You’re trying to kill me” you pout, leaning on him for support. “Why would I do that?” he asks, putting on his best innocent face, “We still have 10 more stops on the tour. The label would kill me.”

“I can’t stand you!” you say, slapping him on the cheek as softly as you can. Yuta winks, pinching you on the ass, “You’ll live. Now about that shower—” Shaking off the post-orgasm brain fog, you manage to hold yourself up enough to lock lips with him. It’s the clumsiest thing. Kissing, caressing, peeling away your clothes. All while blindly making your way to the shower.

You step into the shower first, expecting Yuta to follow immediately after but he stops short just outside of it.

“Were you, like, serious about that shower phobia thing?”

“No,” he laughs, “I just want to look at you for a second if that’s okay.”

Standing alone in the shower, steamy droplets of water running down the curves of your body, you’re pure perfection. A vine of cherry blossoms travels across your left shoulder, riding your love handles, your hips, down your thigh. He knows how long it took to finish that tattoo. All of the tiny gorgeous details missed by the naked eye. It’s been a secret mission of his to explore every aspect of it. And of you.

The admiration radiates off of him and you find yourself overcome with shyness. “Dude, come on. You’re making me nervous!” you say, hiding behind the shower curtain. Yuta jumps into the shower, hugging you from the side, “Oh my bad, dude. I call you ‘baby’ and I get ‘dude’?” Paying him no mind, you grab the body wash and begin to cover him in rose-scented bubbles.

“Don’t be a brat. I call you other things too. I call you baby—” Your fingers trace his collarbone. “I call you honey—” They travel across his shoulder, drifting down his back. You pause halfway down, “I call you…daddy.” You don’t even try to hide your amusement when your nails press into his lower back and he whimpers. “You—why would you do that?” Yuta asks, knowing very well why.

It does something for him when you call him that. Something that makes him want to tear you apart in the best way. Leaning against the shower wall, you play with his belly button piercing. “Did I do something wrong, d—ah!” Yuta lifts you up, bringing your legs around his waist. Catching your breath, you hold on tight, terrified to fall.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Yuta giddily shifts your weight like it’s nothing, thrusting into you, “I know.” Still dripping from your last orgasm, he slips in easily. Almost too easily. There’s no teasing, no taking it slow. Every inch of him is buried deep inside of you. You can’t cover your mouth and the shower does nothing to conceal your overstimulated moans.

Yuta bounces you up and down on his cock. The water raining down on you causes a sharp slapping noise when your bodies come together. “Fuck me harder” you beg, knowing it’ll only make the sound louder. Always here to give you what you want, he fucks into you harder and harder. With every thrust you seem to get tighter, your body so needy for him that it can’t let go.

They say there’s nothing like it. The rush that you get from a concert. Your heart syncing with the violent bashing of the drums. Well, whoever said that, has no fucking idea what they’re talking about.

Yuta presses your legs back, the head of his cock thick and throbbing as he stimulates your sweet spot. “Baby, it feels too good” he pants, knowing he’s on the brink of coming undone. Purposely clenching as tight as you can, you rock your hips down onto him and he can’t hold out any longer. Now this rush? There’s nothing like this.

The fullness as he cums inside of you makes your second orgasm all the more intense when it consumes you. The two of you float in a state of euphoria somewhere between being out of your body and being hyper-aware of it all at once. Kissing you on the neck, Yuta carefully sets you down on your feet. Unable to hold himself up, he sits down in the bathtub. He holds his arms out to you and you make your way down, cuddling up to him.

“I love you, dude” he mocks, tracing the petals on your tattoo. You groan, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” You share a laugh at your mutual silliness and then…nothing. Only silence. Your breathing. The running of the water. Your heart and his. You may be in the business of noise but together you’ve found meaning in just being.

“Our band doesn’t really have a concept, you know? We kinda just do what we want. It’s a vibe” Mark explains to the journalist holding a mic way too close to his face.

When your label booked you for a weekend at one of the biggest festivals in the country they failed to tell you that you had interviews lined up. Let alone ones this painfully boring. So here you are, half dressed outside of your tour bus baking in the summer sun with a camera pointed at your faces.

“And vibes are important!” Johnny throws in, “People…they need vibes because without vibes, who are we? Am I right?” Mark stares into the camera, his mind truly blown, “Bro, that’s…deep.” The interviewer nods, pretending that he understood any of that, “Vibes. Right. So you guys are on another level and—”

Just that moment a group of girls pass by behind the camera. Dressed in their skimpiest festival gear, it takes zero effort on their part to reel Mark and Johnny in. “We are so sorry” Mark apologizes, quietly flirting with the girls, “We gotta go get ready for soundcheck.” “Soundcheck, yes! Gotta keep that sound checked” Johnny says, throwing up a peace sign.

As Mark and Johnny ditch the interview to recruit groupies, the interviewer turns to you and Yuta who’ve been praying that he’d forgotten you were there. “Well, uh, I guess it’s just me and the happy couple, huh?” the man asks, plastering on a smile. The two of you are collectively unmoved, though you’re a bit nicer about it than Yuta.

Like a shark, the interviewer smells blood in the water and the mic is in your face next. “Some would say you’re pretty brave dating a rock star. Aren’t you worried someone might try to steal him away?” You and Yuta share a knowing glance before you snatch the mic from the interviewer.

“No. I mean, have you seen me?” you ask, almost glowing as Yuta showers you with kisses, “Next question.” But there is no next question. You hand the mic to Yuta and walk off to avoid saying something you’ll regret.

“And then there was one. So I’m here with lead singer—”

“Yikes, sorry. I have…interview phobia? Yeah” Yuta lies, beginning to back out of frame before you get too far away. Nearly defeated and totally at a loss, the interviewer tries one more time to bait Yuta back in. “I was hoping we could finish this. Maybe I could ask a few more questions.” Yuta pretends to consider it for dramatic effect. “Better idea, you should pull out your phone and stream our new single ‘Don't Ask My Girlfriend Stupid Shit’.”

Noticing that Yuta’s still holding onto the microphone, you run back to steal it. “Parenthesis, thanks for the brand new mic, asshole!” you cackle, holding the metallic purple equipment up like a Grammy. You disappear again, this time with some new equipment. Yuta just shrugs, waving goodbye to the camera, “Love of my life.”

#nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct x reader #nct x you #yuta x reader #yuta x you #nct angst #nct smut #nct au #chubby reader #plus size reader

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bluehoodiewoozi · 8 months ago

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Happy to Help

Xu Minghao x GN!Reader

Genre: sickfic, fluff.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: adult language. food mentions. mentions of death/funerals (no one even comes close to dying though). a very bad case of the common cold.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] The heating in your apartment is broken and the landlord is not in a rush to fix it. By the time you gather the courage to ask your neighbour for help, you’re sick and now he’s stuck nursing you for a week.

note: Serenity Street is back, y'all!

For four whole days, you had gritted your teeth and smiled when Jihoon promised to get your heating fixed. For four whole days, you tried ridiculous Tiktok hacks to warm up even just your bedroom, and when that failed, wrapped yourself in three blankets and drank all the tea you could afford.

But everyone has a limit, and you finally met yours.

“Listen, I am only one man,” Jihoon told you – and frankly, he seemed to be on the verge of crying as well – when you practically broke into his apartment in search of justice, “and I do not know anything about heating systems or why yours specifically has broken.”

“Then tell someone else to fix it,” you complained, completely sick and tired of this treatment. “There has to be, like, a million people out there who could fix my heating.”

He sighed. “My parents have a contract with one specific company. Unless you want to pay for a breach of contract, you’ll have to wait until they get here.”

“It’s been four days already,” you spoke through gritted teeth, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. “My apartment is colder than the basement right now. It’s February – do you know how freaking cold it is outside? Are you going to pay my funeral fees?”

Jihoon raised a brow – half in concern and half in annoyance. “I don’t.. I don’t think it’s that bad…”

You countered with an eyebrow raise of your own.

That seemed to do the trick: he sighed and sat up straighter, reaching for his phone. “Fine, I’ll give them another call. Maybe they’ll come quicker if I offer an extra fee or something, I don’t know. Just… hang on until then.”

Scoffing, you stared at him. “And what? I’m just supposed to go back to the Arctic and pray that your handymen will come before I freeze to death?”

He frowned at that. “You’re not going to die. It’s only been four days.”

“You try turning your heating off for four days in winter and tell me how you feel after that,” you practically growled, challenging him.

Jihoon rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “Just go stay with someone on your floor. Minghao has a spare bedroom. I’m sure he’ll share if you asked nicely.”

You wanted to physically fight him at the mention; not because he was wrong (god knows Minghao wouldn’t hesitate to let you take over his spare bedroom if you, or anyone, just asked nicely), but because he knew what you felt for Minghao.

As one of your very few friends in the building, Jihoon was more than aware that you had been harbouring a crush on your quiet artistic neighbour. You had had your eye on Minghao ever since he brought you a package – the mailman had mistakenly delivered it to his apartment and Minghao brought it to you with a heart-melting smile.

A whole year later, your knees still felt like jelly every time Minghao smiled at you in the hallway and you had to refrain from squealing out loud every time he spoke to you. You were, as the youths would say, ‘down bad’ for your neighbour.

And that’s why you couldn’t bear the thought of asking him for help in this situation.

When you didn’t reply to his suggestion, Jihoon sighed. “I’ll give him a call–”

“Don’t you dare!” you threatened. “If you as much as tell him my heating’s broken, I will kidnap Peaches.”

“Peaches?” he wondered, blinking at you in confusion before glancing back at where he last saw his fluffy cat. Once he was satisfied to find his pet snoring away in the armchair, he turned to glare at you. “I’m just trying to be a good friend and you’re threatening my child?”

You gave up then and there, turning on your heel and marching back to your apartment.

The next morning it appeared that Jihoon, as magnificent and powerful as he was, unfortunately had no power over the heating company. They rejected his attempts at bribes and offered him what they called ‘a tentative date’.

The problem? It was a whole week away.

[i asked my parents if they’d let you stay in 5a until then, but apparently they rented it out just a few days ago. the new guy’s coming tomorrow. nothing i can do. srry.]

You sniffled as you read the messages on your phone, hidden under three blankets and two sweaters. Groaning at your bad luck, you got off the bed and stumbled towards the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The hot drink was the closest thing you had to heating at the moment, besides a tiny and barely useful (and frankly one step from being a fire hazard) space heater Jeonghan and Sunny had left behind your door the evening before.

As you walked, you concluded you were a little dizzy and your nose wasn’t letting in as much air as it should have. While the water boiled, you also realised your throat was strangely scratchy. It didn’t take much to figure out the lack of heating had finally defeated your immune system.

Frustrated at the realisation, you pulled out your phone again and sent a text back to Jihoon.

[u owe me cold medicine]

The reply arrived just as you began pouring hot water into your mug. The soothing smell of tea filled the kitchen and you couldn’t help but lean a little closer to the heat of both the kettle and the mug as you read his message.

[you’re sick???!]

You chose to not entertain his much-too-late worry spree. After all, had he worried a little sooner, you’d probably have a warm apartment by now – or so you bitterly chose to believe as you shuffled back towards the bedroom.

But before you could even make it out of the kitchen, a knock sounded on your door.

Burdened by the onslaught of what appeared to be the common cold, your brain failed to realise opening the door usually meant a whole new set of problems.

You put your mug down on the counter and went to open the front door, revealing the one person you wanted to see the least in your condition.

Minghao couldn’t even muster a smile when he saw you. “Are you okay?”

You blinked at him. “Why?”

“Jihoon texted. He said your heating’s broken.” (You made a mental vow to find and kidnap Peaches the Orange Cat – full government name and all.) ��How bad is it?”

“I’m fine,” you lied through your teeth. In retrospect, this was not one of your brightest moments. “It’s just a little chilly. I manage.”

He gave you a once-over, growing more confused and concerned by the second. “How many blankets is that?”

“Three.”

His eyebrows rose. “... You manage, huh?”

“One hundred percent. You don’t need to worry about me,” you confirmed with a smile and tried to shoo him away. “I’m sure they’ll fix the heating soon.”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, as if hesitating, “if you get too cold, you can always come over to my place. My apartment’s warm.”

You shook your head even as your freezing body screamed at you. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“You wouldn’t be–”

“My tea’s ready, so I should go,” you interrupted him and waved him goodbye before closing the door.

Once you were no longer confronted by his worried eyes, you sighed in relief, before cursing yourself for damning your body to another week of frost.

Your bad luck just never seemed to end.

What you thought would be just temporary discomfort was quickly turning out to be the worst cold you had suffered in years: sniffles quickly began to look like needing to go to the store to buy a few more boxes of tissues, your scratchy throat turned into a near-complete lack of voice, and you didn’t need a thermometer to know you were too feverish to really leave your bed.

You sent a mostly typo-free text to Jihoon to inform him that this was all his fault and burrowed back into your blanket cave. All you wanted to do was sleep – and sleep you would.

In your feverish and sleepy daze, you failed to register that someone was knocking on your door until you heard a familiar voice call out, “Hey, are you home? (Y/n)?”

You contemplated if opening the door was a good idea in your state. After all, one can only imagine the kinds of things you could accidentally confess while in a paracetamol-induced daze. So, you told yourself, Minghao could wait another day.

Except – as you’d soon realise – your body refused to acknowledge that decision. Like a drunken sailor following the call of a cursed siren, you stumbled out of bed and just about dragged yourself to the front door. You had half a mind to wipe away your snot before unlocking the door, revealing a distraught Minghao.

He had his phone pressed to his ear, a muffled voice sounding from the speaker. His eyes lit up at the sight of you. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got it.” He rolled his eyes at whatever the person on the other side of the call was saying. “Yes, they opened the door. I’m going now. Bye.”

Finally, he turned his attention to you. “What were you doing? We’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“Why?” you wondered all the while trying to force your eyes to focus enough to admire his pretty eyes. And his hair. Had he dyed his hair? You were sure it was blonde yesterday, so how was it brown now?

“Because Jihoon thought you were dead,” he deadpanned, reaching to place his hand on your forehead. He sighed at the touch, disappointed but not surprised. “You’re really sick, you know that?”

You snorted out a laugh – and quickly came to regret it when you almost choked on it – before croaking out, “Of course I know that. I’ve been trying to sleep it off.”

“I don’t know if just sleeping will–”

“It’ll be fine,” you chuckled and reached over to pat his hair, silently marvelling at how soft it was to your touch. Reality called you back soon enough and you reiterated yourself under his disbelieving gaze, “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep, drink a lot of tea, and take some more medicine and then I’ll be good as new.”

He was still struggling to take your reply seriously. But finally, under your unrelenting smile full of content, he agreed. “Right, take good care of yourself. Sleep is good. Do you–” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you need anything from the store? I can get it for you.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” you told him and waved before closing the door. “I’ll see you once I’m better.”

And with that, you made your way back to your tiny somewhat warm base in the bedroom. A nap would soon claim you once again, your dreams filled with Minghao’s smiles and soft voice.

You sat up suddenly just as you were about to fall deep in slumber, eyes widening: you could’ve asked him to buy you more tissues. You groaned and fell back into your nest – snotty noses are a curse.

Hoping some fresh air would clear up your nose and the headache your condition had brought along, you went to check your mail in the morning. ‘Went’ might be a bit of a strong word, you’d soon realise, as you nearly blacked out just crossing the doorstep. ‘Attempted’ – that might be a better word.

As you gave up on your mission – after all, how would you go down a whole floor if you couldn’t even get out of your apartment without nearly fainting? – you noticed a bag on your welcome mat.

Suspiciously squinting, you picked up the bag. The squint quickly melted into a grateful smile when you recognised Minghao’s name signed on a note on the very top of the goodies.

Suddenly filled with a much-needed extra ounce of energy, you took the bag to your kitchen and began unpacking it. You found various cold medicines, a large pack of undoubtedly expensive tea, and some snacks, tissues, topped off with a bright-yellow post-it note from your neighbour.

Please take good care of yourself and get better soon. You can always come to my place if you need anything at all. – Minghao, 2B.

A giddy smile appeared on your face as you hugged the note to your chest. You rushed to find your one heart-shaped magnet before using it to stick the note onto your fridge, right in the centre. You’d cherish this note for as long as your crush would last – you knew this even in your feverish state.

But before long your joy was replaced with annoyance and despair as a cough fit paired with cold shivers up your spine shook your body. Your rational brain came back online soon after. Perhaps it was the words on the note, or perhaps you were finally just defeated – either way, you reached for your phone.

[hey, this is weird to ask but… can i come stay over for a while until my heating gets fixed?]

“Are you awake?” you heard Minghao ask as the door of his room creaked open. Too exhausted and relaxed to move or even speak, you only let out a throaty hum. His face – albeit a little blurry – appeared in your line of vision. “How are you feeling?”

Your reply was not legible to Minghao.

“What?”

You sighed and cleared your throat the best you could before repeating, “I feel as awful as yesterday…”

“But?”

“But way warmer,” you mumbled and burrowed back under the blankets he had wrapped you in the night before when you arrived at his door. “I missed heating.”

He chuckled sympathetically at that and placed his hand on your forehead like he had the day before (the touch made you feel just as giddy as it did back then too). “Heating’s nice, isn’t it? I hope yours gets fixed soon too.”

“Me too,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you basked in the warmth.

“Your fever’s still pretty bad. I guess the medicine’s worn off.”

He sighed and gently brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. (You couldn’t help but imagine the touch as that of a caring boyfriend rather than just a concerned neighbour.) Feeding your fever-induced delusions, he kept stroking your cheek as he stayed in front of you, contemplating his options.

“Do you want some tea?” he offered after a long minute of thinking. “I think someone said lemons and honey in tea help.”

“I’ve had so much tea though,” you croaked.

“Clearly not enough,” he joked. “Stay here, I’ll go make you some. Maybe some food too? I made waffles earlier, if you want any.”

You smiled at the thought, sighing dreamily, “Waffles and tea...”

“Right?” he chuckled and gave your cheek one last affectionate pat before walking out of the room.

When he returned, he was carrying a tray. He carefully placed it on the bedside table before handing you a steaming mug, a plate of waffles and a handful of cold medicine pills.

“I don’t know how sweet you like your tea, but it has a lot of honey,” he warned gently, smiling proudly when you took a sip and hummed happily. “Is it good?”

“It’s better than what I’ve been drinking so far,” you told him with a raspy chuckle.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he did feel a slight concern over your tea preferences. Wordlessly, he reached for the second mug on the tray and took a sip. His confusion only grew: this wasn’t his best attempt at making tea at all. In fact, he’d argue he hadn’t made tea this bad in years – maybe he was just so worried that it was affecting his performance.

“Drink your tea, eat the waffles, take your medicine,” he sternly told you instead of thinking about it any longer, “and then you can go back to sleep if you want.”

“I do love sleep,” you mumbled before taking the medicine, barely aware of what you were saying in your feverish state. You took a bite of a waffle to wash away the bitter aftertaste. “I love you, Minghao.”

He snorted and took another sip. “Sure.”

“I mean it!” you decided to declare, glaring at him for not trusting you. “I love you so much. I’d do anything for you.”

Dumbfounded by your confession, he blinked. “How about you just get better quickly, hm?”

You hummed. “Will you love me back then?”

He chose not to answer that.

Jihoon had more important things to do than nurse a sick neighbour back to health, but he felt he had no choice when Minghao practically dragged him to the apartment by his sleeve.

“Why me?” he wondered groggily, barely awake enough to even take care of himself. “Why can’t you take care of them yourself?”

“Because I have an actual job,” Minghao pointed out with a roll of his eyes. “Just make sure they don’t leave and that they take their medicine. Remember, they have to take these pills every four hours.”

Jihoon’s eyes twitched as he tried to blink. “Why me?”

Minghao was tempted to just lock him in the apartment and not share a word of explanation. But he supposed he owed him that much. He sighed. “Because you’re their friend and they’re completely out of it – I can’t leave them alone.”

“They’re a grown adult.”

“Poor (Y/n)’s very sick,” he said with a worried look in his eyes. “They must be hallucinating or something too, because they said they loved me? Can you imagine?”

At that, Jihoon’s jaw dropped. Then, he began laughing – not just giggling or chuckling, no: fully cackling.

“Don’t be too entertained by my misery. They’re your problem now,” Minghao deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest as Jihoon all but folded over the sofa’s backrest in his fit of laughter. As the man finally calmed down, gasping for air but laughing no more, Minghao sighed and asked, “So, will you watch them for me?”

“Can I bring my cat?”

“Hi, Peaches!” you cooed a few hours later, the cat snuggled in your arms. She purred loudly in reply, kneading at the blankets you had piled over yourself. It was a welcome sensation, you decided.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jihoon leaning against the doorframe, smiling in a way that seemed just a bit too smug to be well-meaning. Your eyes narrowed at the sight.

“You’re not Minghao,” you deadpanned.

His smirk widened. “Yeah? Too bad you can’t confess your undying love for me then.”

You groaned. “Fuck off, Jihoon.”

He let out a hissing noise. “Can’t do that. Minghao asked me to look after you for a bit.”

“So no Minghao?”

“Only your best friend and a cat.”

You snorted. “For a cat, you sure are talkative.”

Jihoon only sighed at that. “I think that means it’s time for you to take your medicine.”

“I feel fine though.”

“But you’re talking nonsense.”

You chuckled and hummed in agreement. “You brought Peaches. You never bring her to my place. I’m a little offended.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” he joked and handed you the pills and a glass of water. “I just brought her over so she wouldn’t be bored.”

“I bet you were worried about me,” you teased and took the medicine, groaning at the stupid bitter aftertaste. “Those pills are so gross. Why can’t medicine taste more like candy?”

“How would I know?” He placed the back of his hand on your forehead. You silently sighed at the realisation that it didn’t feel half as nice as when Minghao did it.

Jihoon pulled his hand away to glare at you. “You don’t get to diss me just because you’re sick and I’m not Minghao.”

Your eyes widened. “I didn’t– Did I think out loud?”

He stared at you for a moment before blinking and looking away. “I’m starting to think that medicine is not very effective.”

“It’s kept me alive this far,” you shrugged.

“Alive and loopy,” he concluded with a defeated nod before smirking again – god, you hated it when he did that. “I heard you confessed to Minghao.”

“I did wHAT?!”

Peaches startled at your sudden rise of volume before settling back into her oddly cat-shaped hole in the middle of the bed, but you did not care. You had more urgent matters to worry about than the comfort of a spoiled orange cat.

Confessed to Minghao? You? There was no way. Surely Jihoon was lying – right, he did that sometimes, after all.

Jihoon only laughed though. “What? You didn’t even know?”

“I didn’t– There’s no way I could have, right? I’m not that out of it?” you reasoned.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged nonchalantly as if you weren’t going through an actual crisis right in front of him, “he seemed kind of distraught when he told me this morning. Thought you were hallucinating or something.”

You could only pray the mattress would swallow you whole before Minghao’s return. Either that, or maybe the universe could send a sign that Jihoon was indeed lying. You were half-sure he was anyways – he probably thought it would be funny to see your reaction. Right. That had to be it.

But, as always, your prayers were met with disdain and spite, and the front door opened. Wordlessly, you begged Jihoon for mercy as Minghao’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Are they awake yet?”

You shook your head and clasped your hands together and tugged at Jihoon’s sleeve, but he seemed to be dead set on causing you more misery. “They’re awake! Just took the medicine.”

Minghao appeared in the doorway, a relieved smile on his face. “Oh, good. You look a lot better today than yesterday– Not that you ever look very bad, but–” he seemed to panic and it was an odd sight because this was, after all, the ever-so-calm Minghao. He cleared his throat and smiled again. “You look healthier!”

“I… feel… healthier,” you slowly said, trying to take all of it in.

“You’re home early,” Jihoon noted, already gathering the orange loaf of a cat in his arms.

Minghao’s ears seemed to go a little more red at the mention. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, yeah, I– I left work early. Got worried.”

Jihoon smirked and leaned closer to you to whisper, much like a co-conspirator when he was the villain of your tale, “He got worried.”

“Count your days, Lee,” you told him with a deadly glare as he backed away, a carefree smile on his face.

“I’ll see you guys later then,” Jihoon announced and waved. “Get better soon!”

“Kim Mingyu, I swear to God— No, I know I asked for the recipe— But that doesn’t mean— Mingyu, I asked for a soup recipe not for your grandmother’s life story!” Minghao argued with his friend on the phone. His attention was soon diverted though, just to glare at you. “You should be in bed! –no, not you, Mingyu– Why are you up?”

“I feel better,” you croaked. While your body didn’t feel like it was made of lead-filled balloons anymore, your throat still hurt and the sniffles and coughs weren’t really helping with that.

Lowering his phone, he rolled his eyes and pointed towards the sofa. “You’d better lay down.”

“I’m fine–”

“I can see you struggling to stand upright from here,” he deadpanned before lifting his phone back to his ear. He sighed right after. “Yes, you did tell me about the time she went to Tokyo already, Gyu. So about that soup–”

When you still didn’t budge, choosing to admire the decor instead of following his directions, Minghao grabbed your hand and led you to the sofa himself. You were practically forced to lay down, a blanket thrown over you with care, the cushion fluffed for your ultimate comfort. With the phone still tucked under his ear, he pointed a warning finger at you and slowly told you, “Stay right here.”

“But I feel fine?” you mumbled but made no attempt to escape your fate. The sofa was nice enough you concurred and melted into the cushions, pulling the blanket further up your chin to hide your fully rubbed-red nose.

Just as you got comfortable in your new spot, listening to Minghao’s desperate attempts to pry a soup recipe from Mingyu’s mind, he appeared in front of you again. You were handed a mug full of…

“Tea? Again?” you groaned softly, but he silenced you with a warning glare and put on the TV instead of addressing your complaints. It was enough, you decided, as a drama rerun played.

After what felt like forever, Minghao’s arguments with Mingyu quieted and all you heard was the TV, the simmering of something in a pot, and your temporary roommate’s humming from the kitchen.

“What are you making?” you asked him when he came to check on you.

His hand on your forehead just like many times before, he smiled. “Some soup. It should help your throat. How are you feeling?”

“A little chilly,” you half-joked. Half because it was still a relief from the freezing temperatures in your apartment, but the living room area was still much colder than the bedroom Minghao had set you up in. It wasn’t meant as a complaint, but, judging by his deepening frown, Minghao seemed to take it as one.

“You’re cold?” he worried and, to your surprise, straightened up and reached over his head to pull his own sweater off.

Thoroughly confused, you watched as he shook the clothing item a few times before handing it to you expectantly – as if you were supposed to know exactly what to do with it.

(Newsflash: you had no idea what to do with it. Your brain was running at 20% power and still stuck on the fact that he had taken off his sweater in front of you – and looked so damn attractive doing that.)

When you made no move to grab it from him, Minghao’s frown only deepened even more. He sighed softly and took the matters into his own hand: he shoved the head hole over your head and guided your arms into the sleeves before rolling the hoodie downwards until it covered your torso.

To top it all off, he adjusted your blanket to make sure not a single gust of cold air could get you. Once he was done, he offered a sweet smile and patted your cheek as if you were a beloved household pet. “Better?”

You could only stare at him in response and dumbly nod.

“Good,” he nodded and smiled wider before glancing at the clock. He hummed in thought. “The soup needs to simmer for another 15 minutes. If you’re still cold…” He hesitated, eyeing you almost shyly and averting his eyes when your gaze met his. He cleared his throat. “If you’re cold, we could cuddle. You know, to share the warmth.”

Embarrassingly enough, it only took you half a second to agree. But thankfully, he didn’t seem put-off by your sudden enthusiasm. Ears reddening as he shuffled closer, he reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you to rest your head against his chest instead of the pillows.

To this day, you’re half sure you hallucinated the entire thing (and that he definitely didn’t go to check on the soup at the 15-minute mark. You had no memory of having that soup at all).

Your barely blissful sleep was interrupted by a vibration under your pillow. You startled awake and looked around until you found the source of your disturbance – the phone under your pillow, Jihoon’s name flashing on the screen.

“What?” you grunted into the phone after swiping to answer the call. No sooner had you spoken than your head slammed back into the pillow — you had no interest in fighting gravity today.

Jihoon snorted at your response. “Good day to you, dear neighbour. Glad to hear you’re better.”

You had no interest in small talk when dreamland was still at hand’s reach. “What do you want, Ji?”

“The handymen finally came. I just wanted to ask for your permission to enter your apartment.”

“Handymen?”

“To fix your heating,” he reminded you softly. “This cold really took you down hard, huh?”

“Oh, the heating!” you perked up, sitting up again. “Of course you can go inside. Should I come too?”

Jihoon hummed in thought before concluding that “Minghao probably won’t let you leave his apartment yet.”

“I’m an adult!” you argued. “He can’t keep me here against my will.”

“I think you’ll be surprised at how convincing he can be,” he laughed, “but I guess you can try. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

But when you went to tell Minghao about your plan, he proved Jihoon’s point a little too perfectly.

“No,” he told you sternly before you could even put on your shoes. “You’re still sick.”

“I’ll just be next door,” you argued.

He was having none of it. “Two days ago you almost collapsed on your way to the bathroom – that was even fewer steps away! You’re not going.”

“Why not?” you whined, frowning at him. “I’m fine! I’m standing up, see?”

His stare was one of disappointed disbelief. “You’re leaning against the wall, (Y/n).”

“There’s walls in my apartment.”

He sighed. “Please just go back to bed. I’ll go myself.”

“But I wanted to get some things–”

“Send me a list and I’ll bring them to you,” he solved your problem easily and you had no room to argue.

Minghao had never actually been in your apartment – not since you actually moved in and packed your things anyway.

He knocked softly on the door before walking in to see Jihoon and a pair of handymen chatting away. The former offered him a polite smile and a nod before returning to the discussion.

Minghao took that as a sign to look around. He took a deep breath and found himself shivering, his breath fogging up in front of his very eyes. How you had survived in this apartment so long without getting frostbite was beyond his comprehension so he decided to not think about it anymore – the idea of you shivering in your bed, desperate for warmth, upset him anyway.

He shuffled into the kitchen where he quickly found the phone charger you had told him to get. He also found a familiar bright-yellow post-it note on the fridge, his hand-writing proudly on display under a heart-shaped magnet.

He scoffed before smiling at the sight; why would you keep that? It’s just a note? He hadn’t even spent a full minute on scribbling it.

Did you actually like him? He shook his head – there was no way. You were too good for him anyway.

Without another thought, he opened the list you had texted him and began gathering the belongings you so dearly missed: some sweaters, shirts…

A single small plant stood in the middle of your bedroom, somehow still green (if not a little droopy) and not frozen over like its compatriots on the window sills. He picked it up – perhaps having even this tiny plant survive would cheer you up, he reasoned.

As he looked at the other, less fortunate plants, Jihoon wandered into the room.“That thing is still alive?”

Minghao hummed in agreement. “It seems a little frostbitten, but it’s still alive, I think.”

“I think they’ve had this thing for ages,” Jihoon told him with a chuckle, leaning forward to inspect the plant. “Who knows? Maybe you can bring it back to life.”

“I sure hope so,” Minghao whispered in response before offering him a smile. “So, what’s the latest on the heating?”

Jihoon grimaced. “They said the system is entirely screwed. They’ll have to replace most of it – might take a few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“At best.”

Minghao was already mentally drafting the best way to deliver the news to you – he didn’t see it going very well either way. “I guess I will have a roommate until spring then.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Jihoon sighed. “I know they’re a lot to deal with – especially when they’re sick.”

He felt insulted on your behalf. “They’re a delight!”

“You’re lying,” Jihoon laughed. “Mingyu told me how you had to scold them to lay down yesterday.”

“They're just a little stubborn,” Minghao defended you to his best ability, trying to limit his lying.

“If you say so.” Jihoon nodded at the bags at his feet. “Do you need help getting all that to your apartment?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Minghao told him with a reassuring smile before picking everything up. Sure, he struggled, but he’d struggle even more if he hurt his pride by asking for help with something this easy.

Even if getting back to his apartment took him a little longer than he’d like to admit, he still made it all on his own. And he was decently proud of that.

“Minghao?” you called out his name the moment he opened the door.

Oh, what he’d give to hear this every time he returned home. He froze at the thought – he was starting to become delusional and that was not his brand. No, he had to get himself together – you were just a friend staying in his spare bedroom because of an emergency. Yes. So it was.

But he couldn’t help but feel a little deluded when he spotted you sitting on the sofa, his white hoodie around your frame, smiling at him hopefully. His heart was about to fail him.

He didn’t even have to try hard to smile – it came naturally at the sight. “I got everything you said.”

“Oh thank god,” you breathed out in relief before sneezing. “No offence, but I miss wearing my own clothes.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you do.”

Your smile faded a little as another thought came to your mind. “Did they say how long the repairs will take? It shouldn’t be too long, right?”

“Jihoon said they have to replace the whole heating unit,” he regretfully told you. “It’ll take a few weeks.”

The remnants of your smile disappeared. You threw yourself backwards on the sofa, pulling a cushion over your face to scream into it in frustration. After a beat of silence, you removed the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “Where will I go?”

“You can just stay here,” he suggested, a little too enthusiastically perhaps. “You’re already settled in.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you–”

“Nonsense,” he reassured you with a laugh and held something out for you to take. “You and this little guy can have the spare room.”

“Little guy?” You sat up to look at the item in his hand – the small flower pot he had brought along. Your eyes just about started watering at the sight. “It’s still alive?”

“I think so.” Minghao shrugged and gently handed the pot to you. “It looks like it could use a few days in a warm spot in the sunlight, but the other plants looked a whole lot worse.”

You sniffled – from tears or from your health conditions, you weren’t sure. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He gave your head a gentle pat. “I’m just happy to help.”

To say you were growing a little annoyed with your health would be an understatement. A whole week of sniffling, coughing and sneezing had passed, but you felt only marginally better.

“I’ve never been sick for this long before,” you complained to Minghao as he handed you a cup of tea and placed a bowl full of snacks between the two of you on the sofa. There was a drama playing in the background – you both agreed to watch it but, to tell the truth, neither of you was particularly invested in the plot.

You took a sip of the hot beverage, hummed in appreciation, and continued your rant, “It makes no sense. I should be feeling better by now.”

Minghao chuckled. “Well, you were pretty sick when you came here, all feverish and snotty. I think you’ve gotten a lot better since.”

“My doctor still won’t let me return to work though,” you groaned. “How am I supposed to pay rent if I can’t work? It’s not living in this building is cheap.”

“Can’t Jihoon lower your rent until the heating gets fixed? It would seem fair.”

You froze. Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Wait, you’re right! Why am I paying full rent when I can’t even live there because of the temperatures? And it’s not even my fault?!”

Before you could get more fired up about it and start harassing your landlord, Minghao changed the topic. “Do you need anything else? Are you warm?”

Snapping out of your rage, you offered a sheepish smile. “I’m a little chilly actually.”

He sighed and reached over to once again place his hand on your forehead, as he often did. It was almost a routine at this point – not that your heart could ever stop fluttering at the simplest of physical contact with him.

“You’re not running hot today though,” he worried but picked up a blanket anyway and threw it over your lap. Then, uncharacteristically, he hesitated for a moment. “Do… Do you mind if I–?”

He lifted the corner of the blanket and shuffled under it as well, pulling his feet under the blanket for extra warmth.

“You’re cold too?” you wondered.

He offered you a funny look – as if you had asked him if unicorns exist. “Do you think you’re the only one who feels cold sometimes?”

You blinked. “Well, no, but–”

“Then stop asking dumb questions and watch the drama,” he told you and forced himself to do just that. But if it hadn’t been for the sudden red-ish tint of his ears, you wouldn’t have questioned him to begin with.

Instead of asking any further questions, you decided to settle further into your (by now designated) spot on the sofa, engulfed in the warmth of the blanket and Minghao.

You fully planned on blaming your illness for the way you leaned further and further into his space as you slowly began dozing off to sleep – even if it was fully intentional. Who could really blame you? You were sick, tired, and sitting next to your crush of god-knows-how-many months.

And so, inch by inch, your head lowered not in the direction of the head- or armrest but towards his shoulder. Finally, your eyes closed as your cheek pressed against the fabric of his cardigan.

It was a little rough from the wash, no longer as soft as it had once been, and you’d be lying if you said it felt comfortable against your cheek, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make for just five minutes of something akin to affection from the man of your dreams.

You fully intended it to only be five minutes – just a short moment to bask in your delusions. But then you felt his arm shift under your body, lifting to rest around your shoulders. He pulled you closer and rested his cheek against your head and before the fourth minute passed, you were more than halfway into Dreamland.

“I wish this happened more often. I really like you, Minghao.”

(And maybe if you had been more awake, you would’ve noticed the way his breath hitched and his smart watch vibrated to warn him of a sudden spike in his heart rate.

Maybe you would’ve noticed the way his embrace tightened just the slightest bit and he pressed his lips against your forehead in a careful gesture of reciprocation. And that his world got a whole lot brighter at the idea that perhaps this time you knew what you were saying and that maybe, just maybe, your feelings were mutual.)

You couldn’t believe you almost squealed with joy at the prospect of going back to work. You loved Minghao – really, you did, in many ways – but being stuck in an apartment with him for almost two weeks turned out to be your shortcut to insanity.

So, of course, you took the very first chance to return to work. And of course you hated every second of it – reality really is much less rosy than daydreams.

“Minghao, I’m back,” you called out as you returned to the apartment exactly 20 minutes after the end of your workday. Frankly, you weren’t expecting any kind of answer – you had just spent the past two weeks fantasising about calling out that specific phrase to feed your delusions.

You just had to try it out once, or maybe twice. Who knows what tomorrow brings.

But, just as you started to accept that it was dumb and not as much fun as they make it seem in those sitcoms, you heard a cough and a raspy, “I’m here” from his room.

You froze at the sound. A glance at the clock said that Minghao should still be at work. The art museum didn’t close until late at night so…

“Minghao?” you called out again just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Perhaps you had already come down with a new fever and weren’t even aware of it.

Another cough. Now you were sure you weren’t imagining it.

You headed to his room, finding the door ajar and a Minghao-sized lump curled up under a pile of blankets. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you heard a muffled croak and you wondered exactly how high his fever must have been for him to think it sounded even remotely convincing. “Just had a rough day.”

You pursed your lips in thought before approaching the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress near him to gently peel the covers off his face. His eyes narrowed into an accusatory glare at the sight of you and the light flooding his room.

“Yeah?” You laughed at the sight of his reddening nose. “You sure it’s not the sniffles?`”

“Who even says ‘the sniffles’ anymore?” he mocked and buried his face in the pillows. Like a sulking child, he sharply pulled the blankets from your grasp and pulled them over his head. His voice once again came out muffled, “I’m fine. It’s just a little cold. Can you turn up the heating while you’re here?”

You went to do as he said but were taken by surprise by the thermostat. “It’s already maxed.”

“Is it?” he wondered, one eye peeking out from under the covers. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“I think you’re not that fine,” you realised and went back to him to check his temperature as he had done to you just some days ago. “Hao, you’re burning up. Have you taken any medicine yet?”

“I don’t need medicine,” he whined. “I need a nap and more blankets… and to get rid of this stupid cough.”

“So,” you concluded, amused all of a sudden – is this what he had been dealing with all this time with you? – , “some cold medicine?”

“... I don’t want to bother you.”

You let out a scoff. “Dude, I practically moved into your apartment when I got sick and you’re worried taking care of you will bother me? If anything, I have to do this to pay back the favour.”

“Can’t you just do it because you love me?” he wondered, drowsy and barely lucid.

You froze. “Because I— What?”

“Because you love me,” he reiterated, turning his head to pout at you. “You said you loved me and if you loved me, you’d take care of me because of that and not because you’re paying back a favour.”

“When did I–” Your breath got caught in your throat – so Jihoon hadn’t lied after all. “Did I really say that?”

“You did – twice,” he declared, “I heard it myself.”

As you prepared to apologise, he added, “But it’s okay because I love you too. So, now you have to take care of me, right? You’re, like, legally obligated.”

A part of you was screaming on the inside, kicking and jumping and squealing and dying all at once. The other part was wondering how he had gone from “I’m fine, stop worrying about me” to “you’re legally obligated to care for me” in two minutes. You weren’t entirely sure which part of the situation worried you more.

Eventually, you decided that the second part was far more worrying.

“Let’s get you some medicine and we can discuss the legal aspect once you’re better, okay?” you told him, gently stroking his hair off his (admittedly gross) sweaty forehead.

He hummed in agreement.

But when you went to leave his room to get some comfier clothes and medicine, his fingers wrapped around your wrist. You looked back to find his eyes squinted open, an accusatory sparkle shining in them. “Where are you going?”

“To get you some medicine–”

“Stay.”

“Hao, I have to–”

“Stay,” he told you a little more assertively. The gentle pulling at your wrist contrasted the force of his demand. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Begrudgingly, you sat back down. You could use a few minutes to process the information anyways, you decided, and reached up to play with his hair. Before long, his soft snores filled the room, yours joining not too soon after.

Days passed by and Minghao was recovering way faster than you – probably because he had half a mind to not stubbornly spend the first couple of days of his ailment in a freezer-temperature apartment. That’s what he told you anyways when you went to bring him tea and check his temperature one morning.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” you argued under your breath as you tilted and rotated the slowly-dying thermometer to see what numbers it was displaying. “Your fever’s gone at least.”

He sneezed and groaned right after your comment. “I wish everything else went away too.”

“At this rate, you’ll be back on your feet and bossing me around by tomorrow,” you joked to placate him (because realistically he would spend another three days feeling like death itself, as per your own experience) and fully sat on his bed. “Any plans for when you get better?”

“So many,” he admitted with a slow grin which dropped soon after in a near-comical manner, “first of which is to go to the tea shop because I’m pretty sure you’ve cost me most of my supply.”

“Fair,” you sighed and leaned against the headboard. “I’d bring you some tea myself but–”

“Please don’t,” he all but begged. At least you both agreed that your tea tastes and knowledge did not align. He then sighed dreamily, “And when I’m done with that, I’m going to work on my paintings, and maybe redecorate, and take you on a proper date, and–”

Your jaw dropped. “You what?!”

He blinked. “Do you… not want to…?”

You could only blink back – baffled, befuddled, bewildered, dumbfounded, stunned.

Like a normal person, he took your lack of agreement as rejection. Clearing his throat and twiddling his thumbs, he avoided your eyes as he admitted, “I just thought that since you confessed, and I confessed, and– Actually, nevermind, maybe the thermometer’s wrong and I still have a fever–”

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Hao,” you whispered just as he began his downward spiral.

“–maybe I do need to go to that doctor Junhui suggested and get my head checked and– Are you serious?” His apologetic wide eyes widened some more as they snapped to meet yours. “You– You want to go?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, ears and cheeks burning and, damnit, were those butterflies in your stomach jumbo-sized?

His lips spread into a wide, relieved smile. “Oh thank god. I almost had a whole breakdown.”

Too busy trying to take in the situation and calming the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach, you found yourself jumping in surprise when his fingers wrapped around your own.

And suddenly it hit you – this was your reality. Daydreams full of his smiles, long nights wishing he held your hand, sick days spent longing for the tender care of a lover – it was all real now and you no longer had to wish.

All because of broken heating and long weeks of recovering from a cold from hell.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #the8 scenarios #the8 x reader #svt scenarios #seventeen fic #minghao scenarios

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cryptomiracle · 10 months ago

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what type of lover is sam winchester?

sam winchester x reader (fluff headcanons)

"Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Now this is an open-shut case

Guess I should've known from the look on your face

Every bait and switch was a work of art"

-willow by taylor swift

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WARNING(S)

I'm just on season 14 atm, but I took a break from watching it to focus on other things, so I apologize if his character is inaccurate.

gender neutral reader

this is my first time writing for supernatural, please be understanding of this

This is kinda short

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psychical touch

he's not very big on PDA, other than hand holding or a simple little peck on the cheek/hand every now and then.. but in private? this man cannot get enough.

If you're a night owl, he's the type to sit on the couch with his head laying on your lap at like 2 am, trying to fight off sleepiness just so he can be with you. when you two sleep together, he pulls you as close as humanly possible and sleeps with his face in the crook of your neck.

he's constantly showering you with kisses on your nose, on your mouth, on your cheeks, on your hand, you name it.

He's the type to kiss you goodbye, then pull you back into another kiss, and then another, and then another, until you have to psychically pull yourself away from him.

Sometimes when he gets spooked he'll involuntarily grab your hand.

Now don't get me wrong, he enjoys when you give him the same energy, he loves for you to comb your fingers through his hair, or when you wrap your arms around his arm when you two are walking around (it doesn't matter where you're going)

if you were to randomly walk up to him and hug him, he would literally melt into you, he would do all he could to prolong the hug as much as possible, just to stay in your embrace.

When you two are cuddling, he's a little spoon (I will die on this hill.)

love language

words of affirmation

This man is a poet when it comes to you, he will wake up in the morning and just start telling you the sweetest things you have ever heard.

he will quite literally have you swooning over him, and he means every bit of what he says.

Although I wouldn't call him an insecure person, you would have to return the favor, even if it's just little confirmation that you still love him.

He's constantly worried that his line of work would cause you to get hurt, or worse.. so you would have to remind him that you don't have any second thoughts, that you can take care of yourself and that you don't want to be with anyone else.

acts of service

He loves doing things for you, whether it's carrying your bags, or running you a bath.

he'll do things without you even having to ask.

if you show any interest in something in a store, consider it yours.

Quality time

hes fine with going out to a nice restaurant, but he's also okay with just having a homemade dinner with you. He's happy as long as he gets to spend time with you.

He's an okay cook. but he likes to cook with you, it's his favorite way to spend quality time with you

Sometimes though, he would rather go to a restaurant he enjoys seeing you get all dolled up, it makes his heart melt.

When y'all first started dating, he definitely had to ask dean for date ideas, but once y'all finally got fully secure in your relationship, he'd just ask you what you wanted to do.

He enjoys sitting at home and reading with you, or doing research on whatever case him and dean are working on at the moment.

He greatly appreciates if you help him with his research as well, if you were to find something before him, he'd compliment you and tell you how smart you were, & how much of a help you were to him.

He's just a little sweetie pie

(I love him so much YALL DON'T EVEN KNOWW)

fights

Honestly, fights with him aren't that bad.

He will let you vent out all of your emotions, but if he thinks you're being irrational he will let you know.

He does have a habit of storming into another room, or going quiet whenever he feels himself get genuinely angry, mainly because he doesn't wanna yell/blow up at you.

After he cools down, he will attempt to resolve whatever it was that caused the fight to begin with.

Oftentimes, he will try to avoid conflict with you all together.

I can just imagine the two of you fighting in front of dean and Castiel, and them just standing there like "🧍🏼‍♂️👀"

If it's a really bad fight, he'll need a little moment alone to settle down.

jealousy

imma give him a 4.5/10 on the jealousy scale.

He's secure enough in himself, and your relationship to where he doesn't feel jealous over little things.

but if somebody tests it, he will let it be known that you're his.

Like, if a cashier at a store were to flirt with you, despite him being right next to you he'll shoot them a confused yet humored look while sneaking his hand around your waist & pulling you closer.

what kind of lover is sam winchester?

overall, sam winchester is such a great lover his love is so bittersweet, kind, patient, and understanding. He's such a sweetheart ♡

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #gender neutral reader #tags for reach #cutie patootie #sam winchester x you #fluff #supernatural fluff #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x y/n

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indigos-stardust · 2 months ago

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Violet, Blue, And Bruised All Over: Long Talks

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6

Note: this has been in my draft for at least 2 weeks, hit a slump and then a hyperfixation couldn't write lol. so this is alot shorter and the drawings wont make as much sense without part like?? 6.5???... but I just wanted to post it cuz I felt bad

Reblogs and comments appreciated <3 I wanna hear y'all's thoughts >:3c

Red and Blue: a deep conversation filled with compassion and vulnerability:

Meanwhile Vio and Green:

(sorry I haven't updated this in a while, real life calls :')

The following days were hell. Red knew how much fights shredded his heart into a bajillion tiny pieces, but really the forced normalcy was so much worse!

The two had gotten an even bigger longer (and honestly ranty) lecture from Green the next day. Red didn't think it really helped much. Like sure they were cowed into NOT biting each other or whatever, but c'mon!

It felt like everyone was mad at everyone else! And even though technically no one was really mad at him, they were all mad at each other which- considering they were all sorta kinda not really the same person? It still felt that way!

Green had gotten really bossy and super serious, and Blue and Vio were just avoiding each other like the plague! Whenever they did come into "an unfortunate proximity" as Vio put it, there wasn't anything but a ton of silent hate! Red really just wanted to curl up into a little hole and die. Well not really! But like, emotionally! Just a bit!

Green kept pushing them to talk about the details, but neither one would talk. Red decided to try asking them one on one, you know, use his charm a bit and soften the edges- But even when he cried it didn't work! Him crying always worked! Especially when he said just the right words in just the right way to softly push them into making a realization.

Red wouldn't really call himself a manipulator in that sense, because hey! He was using his powers for good, right? At least most of the time, anyways. It was a useful way to get out of trouble and get things he wanted...

By why couldn't it work now when he needed it most!!

Vio just treated him like how a parent would to their kid when the kid just, well, asked about death or some hard grownup topic. Like Red just simply wouldn't understand and not to worry about it- But he was worrying! He knew Vio just didn't want him to be sad but still...

Then Blue- Well, Blue was just sad. And a little p*ssed. But it was clear he was just mostly sad. At least when he talked to Red anyways. At first he had been all huffy and insisted that it was all so stupid, so why even bring it up anyways? Because it was "over already!" Which, no that was super stupid of Blue to think, because obviously all their relationships were like super mega sad???

When Red expressed that sentiment though, it seemed to change something in Blue. Blue just closed up and got all quiet. He hated when Blue did that. But it also meant his plan was working. Blue may be a little, uhm, explosive to people and things when he got upset- But really if he was like actually really seriously upset? Then he got all quiet and intense all by himself. But Red knew how to pry all those layers off, even if it was just melting his way though each one of Blue's icy walls, one at a time.

Not even a day later of the guilt obviously devouring Blue inside out, and clearly losing against his ego. (Red knew that's what happened, he probably didn't want to be the "first one to show weakness" and just talk about how his feelings were hurt and acted like he was just all angry and didn't care, but Blue was a big softie and no amount of pouting was gonna change that in Red's eyes.)

They'd been walking to the training yards extremely early in the morning, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon really. In Red's opinion, going all the way to the castle to train in the big professional courtyard before the birds even woke up was probably some sort of crime against humanity. And him. But Red was so close to getting Blue to spill! SO he had to stick with Blue the whole time to make sure his plan would work. He just had to be consistent! Even if... it was at like... Red blearily squinted against the horizon. Five AM? Uegh.

Green was right about those too being similar. But it wasn't just cuz they were so stubborn. More like they were both weirdos that had a vendetta against sleep. Seriously, would it kill Blue to sleep in for five more minutes...

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justabigassnerd · 2 years ago

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Nightmares

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x daughter!reader

Word count - 1,234

Warnings - mentions of death, nightmares, slight mention of bullying

Summary - your worst fear comes to you in your dreams and you retreat to the one person who can provide you comfort

A/N - hey y'all I'm back with another fic posted just in time to be a present to y'all on my birthday! I kinda took inspiration from my own experiences as a Military brat. My dad went to Afghanistan when I was eight & at boarding school and I heard on the radio that the camp he was at had been invaded and holy shit that was like the most terrifying moment of my life. This was another anon request so I hope I did the idea justice (sorry it's a bit shorter than my usual fics). Anyways I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all, please send in requests feedback and enjoy!!

When you had been taken up to bed by your dad, tucked in and gifted with a kiss on the top of your head before your dad switched the light off, you were sure you would have sweet dreams just like your dad said before he left your room. You were wrong. You woke up in the dead of night with tears pooling in your eyes and staining your cheeks. Your worst fear had been swimming around in your head recently, especially since Greg in your class at school kept bringing it up when he knew there wasn’t a teacher around to stop him. When your dad found out about it you were embarrassed, you were eight and didn’t want your dad or your friends to see that Greg was affecting you with his taunts. As you lay awake, you tried to fall back asleep but every time you closed your eyes you saw flashes of your nightmare taunting you. After several failed attempts at going back to sleep, you pushed your duvet back, grabbed your beloved soft toy and went to go to the one place you knew you could be comforted.

Bradley Bradshaw could sleep through most bumps in the night. There was a concise list of noises that could actually rouse him from his sleep. His alarm set on his phone. The alarms in the carriers. And the creaky floorboard right outside his bedroom door. The last thing on that list was the thing that woke him up this particular night. He heard the familiar squeak of the floorboard and his eyes peeled open slowly. He listened carefully for a tell-tale sign of what was going on outside. He heard his door open slowly and, in the darkness, he saw your familiar figure sneak in, closing the door behind you before clambering onto the other side of the bed and making yourself comfortable. Just as you settled down, Rooster rolled over and pulled you into his arms as you squeaked slightly, immediately melting into his embrace, and cuddling closer.

“What are you doing, creeping in here little miss?” He asks with a grin as he tugs the duvet around you. When you didn’t respond, choosing to bury yourself further into his side his smile slipped away. He knew that something was definitely up for you to be clamming up on him. He knew you weren’t scared of telling him things but if you were upset or scared of something you required a bit more coaxing. He knew that because you knew what he did for a living you wanted to be brave like him and that meant not being scared of anything so you were embarrassed to be scared most of the time now and it broke Rooster’s heart.

“y/n, what’s up sweetheart?” He asks, stretching an arm out to turn his bedside lamp on before focusing his attention back on you. You try to get out of the conversation once more by hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Rooster carefully moved you away, sitting up and placing you on his lap where he notices the tears pooling in your eyes.

“I had a nightmare.” You whisper as Rooster reaches to wipe the falling tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

“What was it about? Can you tell me?” He asks you softly, watching you carefully as you nod carefully.

“I had a dream that you died. Greg keeps saying that you could die while you’re at work and I’m scared.” At your small voice, Rooster felt his heart break and he tugged you into a hug and ran a hand up and down your back as you cried into his neck. As Rooster pressed repeated kisses to your temple, he vowed to bring up this Greg kid to the principal of your school and see if he can talk to his parents about this issue you’ve been having with him. He also understood where you were coming from in your fear of him not coming home. He lost his father when he was only five years old, barely old enough to have any memories of Goose and he was terrified of leaving you behind in a similar way. He tightened his grip on you slightly as he thought of you being alone.

“I’m okay. It was just a dream. But it’s okay to be scared sweetheart.” Rooster whispers, feeling you nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck as he speaks.

“You’re never scared. I want to be brave like you and Mav.” You mumble into his neck and Rooster presses yet another kiss to the side of your head before leaning back so he could see your face.

“y/n/n, everyone gets scared sometimes. Even me and Mav. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Rooster says softly, frowning slightly when he sees on your face that you’re not entirely convinced by his words so he vows to talk to the Daggers and Maverick tomorrow and see if they can bring any advice. Moving on to his next idea to comfort you, Rooster gently takes one of your hands in his and places it on his chest, just above where his heart was and holds it there as you look at him with wet eyes.

“Feel that? I’m alive and I’m not going anywhere soon y/n/n. I always fight my hardest when I’m working so I can come home to you.” Rooster says, lifting his free hand to run through your hair gently before wiping the remainder of your tears away.

“Can I sleep in here, tonight?” You ask timidly, cuddling into your dad’s chest, reminding him of when you were a baby and loved to be held in his arms. Rooster always cherished moments like this because he knew that before he knows it, you’ll be all grown up and will want to be out exploring the world and won’t be home all the time whether he liked it or not.

“Of course, you can, sweetheart. Here, let’s get nice and comfortable, shall we?” He asks, shifting you to be alongside him as he lays down, tugging you into his side and keeping you in a protective hold like he could singlehandedly keep the nightmares and bad thoughts away with a simple embrace. He switched the lamp off and settled back into the pillow, smiling to himself when he felt you resting your head on his chest, right above where his heart sat so you could listen to the gentle thumping to help lull you to sleep and be a gentle constant reminder that he’s alive and with you. As you settle down, he begins to run a soft hand up and down your back to help you fall asleep quicker.

“I love you, daddy.” You mumble into his chest as sleep takes its hold over you once more.

“I love you more, sweetheart.” Rooster whispers when you’ve given into the clutches of sleep. Rooster watched you sleep peacefully for a few minutes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Rooster knew you’d grow up sooner than he’d like you to, and that maybe when you’re older you’ll have someone new to turn to on sleepless nights or nights plagued with nightmares. All he could do right now was hold you tight, knowing you were still his little girl for a little bit longer.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster x daughter!reader #bradley bradshaw x daughter!reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader

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jasntodds · 1 year ago

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Petrichor Chapter 9 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 09/13

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb) Teaser Words: 2,262 Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of canon violence, mentions of canon drug use, canon grave digging?? lol, mentions of violence Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞ Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now. A/N: I thought I'd have this done on Wednesday and then did not lol then I lost wifi for like 24 hours so couldn't finish editing. I'm so sorry I didn't mean to leave y'all on a cliffhanger lmao You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

“Please, don’t be mad.”

His voice. You would know that voice anywhere and you freeze. Your heart feels like it’s just plummented to streets below you because it can’t be him. It’s your mind playing tricks on you. It has to be because he’s dead. You know for a fact he’s dead. This is some cruel joke he’s playing, somehow.

Maybe you really did piss him off. If he has your phone number and knew you’d meet him here, in uniform, maybe he knows more. Maybe he knows Jason was Robin and you were together. Your social media feeds were consumed with each other. It was obvious. Maybe that’s what this is. Some mind game as payback for going after someone he wanted to kill himself or someone he wanted to recruit for his new crime family. It has to be. Because Jason Todd is dead.

You look over at him slowly, seeing the green eyes that haunt you in your dreams now. There’s the mark near his left eye he’s had since you met. You memorized where the few freckles are and they match on Red Hood. He’s the same height as Jason. His brows are knitted together in the same way Jason always did when he was thinking and pleading with you for something. The only difference is his hair. Jason doesn’t have a white streak. So, it can’t be him. He’s dead.

You move away from him quickly, putting your hand out in front of you as it glows neon green. You gain a scowl as you clench your jaw. Not him.

“Tell me who the fuck you are before I melt your sorry ass!” You yell at him. You don’t care what he’s capable of. If Red Hood wants to play this game, you’ll play right back and you’ll go down swinging. It’s not a joke and it’s just cruel.

Jason faces you, eyeing you carefully. He knew you wouldn’t believe him. You're smart. You're going to make sure he’s real. But it hurts anyway.

“It’s me.” Jason states holding the helmet on his hip. “I swear, alright? It’s me.”

You shake your head as you feel your eyes grow warm and the tip of your nose warm. Your eyes start to water and it’s actually embarrassing. You can’t actually stand here ready to kill him while crying. Whatever his endgame is, he has to be winning because your hand starts to shake and you swear it’s not him.

“No…because I-I…no.” Your words are rugged and breathy. “I found him.” You mutter through gritted teeth. “He’s dead.” You suck in a breath, keeping your stare on him. “You’re. Not. Him.”

You know it can’t be him because that’s not possible. It’s not possible that someone can die and come back to life. Bruce had an autopsy performed even. Even if there was a way, there was an autopsy. How can someone come back from that? You read the report, you saw the pictures. That is real. Can he survive being bludgeoned with a crowbar and then being embalmed? That doesn’t make any fucking sense. And if he were really Jason, why wouldn’t he come to you as soon as he comes back to life? Why would he become Red Hood first? Why would he go to Molly first? You saw him, cold and pale and lifeless with autopsy scars on a slab. This isn’t Jason.

Jason’s heart drops because you never should have been the one to find him. He knew you would. Jason remembers every thought he had before everything went black and he remembers knowing you’d come because you’d always come to find him. But, he was really, really hoping he was wrong and it was anyone else. It just had to be you. Jason doesn’t know what the damage was but he has a pretty good guess it was pretty ugly and mortifying. It wasn’t enough that he literally died, but it had to be you to fucking find him.

And his heart breaks with the look you're giving him because you've always trusted him. But right now, just by the scowl and vibrancy of the green of your hand, he knows you don’t. You have to believe him. You have to.

“I gave you a necklace.” Jason states, looking to your neck that’s covered with the suit. “Infinity symbol, because it’s you and me. There’s a tracking device in it because you have a habit of getting kidnapped.” Jason nods at you once as he manages his signature smirk. “You’re probably still wearing it because you never took it off since the night of the gala.” Jason gestures a hand towards you lazily and you swear the necklace starts burning your neck. “You picked out the hood for your suit. And you were always afraid of heights but grappling around the city has apparently helped you get over it. I have a favorite gargoyle. You and Bruce are the only two who know that.” Jason tries to think of other things only him and you would know. He remembers everything but it has to be specific because just anything is never going to fly with you.

You pause and you think Jason has to be the only one who would know all of that. Anyone would know about the necklace but not the reason or the tracking device. You never even told Molly why he gave it to you. You always said it was just something nice he did. No one would know you picked out your hood besides Bruce and Gar. And the gargoyle thing is so damn odd that no one would even think of that. But he did. But it can’t be him. How can it be him?

“My favorite meal is pot roast which I taught you to make the same day you taught me scrapbooking stuff. My page was about Robin, of course, it was, right?” Jason shakes his head as he scoffs. The name of Robin is almost sour on his lips now. “Pride and Prejudice is my favorite book and I really like West Side Story, it was our second date that you planned.” Jason takes a step forward with a sigh and you keep your footing as your hand lowers just a little. “Krypto is your best friend even though he’s a dog. You like Excellent Gotham which I think you like going to because you suck at making friends but you think Tim is cool.” Jason grins at you as you glare at him in the way you always did when he was saying something just to get under your skin. “Hey, you said that yourself.” Jason chuckles softly, looking to the ground and your face softens just slightly. He always did that. “I dumped a bucket of ice water on you once, back in San Francisco.” Jason lets out this laugh and he can’t see it, but it gets you to smile under your mask. That’s definitely his laugh because it’s booming and it echoes over the roof.

“Asshole.” You mutter as Jason watches the glowing start to fade.

“You ate the rest of my food! On purpose!” He laughs and there’s this light in his eyes as he gives you this teasing grin. The one he always gave you right before you caved.

“I thought it would be funny.” You lower your hand. “And it was.” The venom in your voice is gone.

“Yeah, sure it was.” Jason sucks in a breath.

Your face softens as you take off your mask and Jason sucks in a deep breath. He waits, nearly wanting to jump out of his own skin. He knows you're running every possibility through your head, just to be sure. He has to wait for you to land on this to be real and true. But it’s agonizing and he can’t breathe as he waits. But as he waits, he can see the disbelieve and what he swears was hatred, dissolve from the lines on your face. Your brows knit together as your eyes start to water.

“Jay?” Your voice trembles through the space between you.

Jason nods softly. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You suck in a breath and run the distance between you. You slam into him with a force as your arms wrap around his neck and this time, without hesitation, Jason’s arms wrap around your middle. He holds you as close to him as possible as his eyes close. You smell like his body wash and shampoo and he can’t help but smile. Of course, you do.

It’s unbelievable. You have no idea how it’s possible but it has to be him. No one else would be able to know all of that. You and Jason always kept so much close to your chests when it came to the two of you, you know he didn’t tell anyone. He wouldn’t. It has to be him and you're relieved. You're wrapped in his arms again and it’s like you've been sucked back home in an instant.

It's relief that hits Jason like a freight train. It's firm and hard but comforting. An easy breath of air leaves his lungs and it's as if he hasn't been able to take a full breath since coming back, not until now. Your arms are wrapped around his neck so right he thinks you might strangle him and it feels good. He was so scared you'd punch him and tell him off and leave. He died and a really big part of him, thinks you should do all of those things. But, you don't and Jason is just happy to have you with him, if just for this moment.

Jason pulls down your hood to get you to look at him and the second you do, one of his hands comes up the back of your head and he brings your lips to his. His hand tangles in your hair and he keeps his other wrapped as tightly as he can as if he were to let go for even a second, he'd wake up to relive another nightmare.

Your mouths move together almost carefully at first before it grows sloppy and almost desperate. You slide your hands into the curls at the nape of his neck and you think nothing, right now matters. You can exist right here on this rooftop just like this with him. If you stay like this, nothing can happen. Nothing bad can happen again if you can just stay like this. You beg and plead with the universe to just freeze time but the universe never seems to listen to your pleas.

"I'm so sorry." Jason mutters against your lips, his breath heaving but he keeps his lips just hovering above yours as if he's terrified to move.

You're the one that pulls away to get a good look at him. "W-what...I--" You shake your head and Jason's heart sinks as he feels your arms loosen around his neck. "You died." You chew the inside of your cheek. "H-how?"

“Lazarus Pit.” Jason states. “I don’t know how it works but I was put in it and came out alive.”

Jason knows he can’t tell you much. If he tells you what’s going on, it’ll complicate things a little. Crane already doesn’t trust you. And Jason knows that. Jason also knows you’ll lose your mind if you find out what he’s doing, the whole story. He knows he can’t tell you. Not until the time is right but you, at the very fucking least, deserve to know he’s alive and how. The Titans will find out eventually anyway and none of them could go back and tell you. You’d never forgive him.

If this were any other city, you would say that were a load of shit. But this is Gotham where the impossible always seems possible in the most fucked up ways. It’s just a normal thing here. Acid creating whatever fuck the Joker was. That same acid turning Harley Quinn into whatever she is now that’s actually nothing like the Joker. Poison Ivy accidentally spilling a chemical and turning into what she is now. Insane scientists that torment the city with magic tricks and fear gas. Maybe Lazuaus Pit makes sense.

“Lazarus Pit.” You nod your head once. “That tracks.” You let out a sigh.

“Yeah.” A forced chuckle leaves Jason’s lips as he drops his hand from your hair and moves it to your waist.

“Who put you in it then?” You ask as your hands find their way to his biceps and there's a trickling of anger starting to drip into your stomach.

You're thrilled and relieved he's alive and he's real. But, you're also smack in the middle of grieving him. Now, he's suddenly alive and it's not like he just walked into the manor one day. He's been out here being Red Hood for days and you're just now finding out about it. The relief of him being alive is still throbbing with your heart but there's an anger that's there, moving in slowly. It's as if your body is so used to being mad at the entire world or absolutely miserable that it doesn't know what to do right now. And you think you might be getting whiplash from the emotions. It’s like you go numb as your body sorts through which emotion it wants to land on like some sick arcade game.

Jason shakes his head, knowing this is about to go south. “I can’t tell you.” Jason answers honestly.

prev. chapter

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snootlestheangel · 1 year ago

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Just A Dude!Ghost Monster AU

Side note before this post gets rolling, I love that my post with the highest notes starts with "I don't know who else" and I think that's very reflective of what Tumblr is like XD

Anyways

We're doing it! We are writing a Monster AU featuring Ghost as the only human despite what everyone else thinks! As far as I am concerned, mostly gonna post it here on Tumblr, since I don't really have much right now for it, mostly just little blurbs but if needed for readability, I'll put it on AO3 (under my profile FeelzMaster)

I'm gonna go ahead and give y'all the rundown of what species are featured, kinda what this world's like, the stuffs, ya know? TW: talks of death (just how they can die, relax)

Soap

To be 100% honest, I really wanted to do the whole werewolf!Soap thing cause it's just so perfect for him, but I thought back to a post I made about him being lightning and thought HUH WHAT IF?

So, partially inspired by @tactax-art and their depiction of Soap dealing with fire 'n shit, I have made Soap a unique type of "nymph". Technically, nymph isn't the right word, but neither is elemental, and the true name of these things is so old it's real translation has kinda lost meaning so they stick to describing themselves as "nymphs" or "elementals".

He is a Lightning Nymph, which is rare but that's apparently what happens when you cross an "atmospheric" air nymph (his mum) and a less traditional water nymph (his dad). He's often seeing consuming/messing with things that have electrical charge in order to keep up his own energy (Gaz once had to watch him literally lick an exposed outlet and maintain a straight face). Every time it storms, he's outside somewhere as high as he can get so he can soak up the natural static energy that comes with storms. He can and will shock people for the fun of it.

As for abilities, he's obviously highly conductive, can manipulate electrical energy but it's pretty exhausting so it's more of a life or death thing, he can glow in the dark if he wants to, and he's hyper aware of changes (due to ~energy~). His diet is batteries... Jk, but seriously he does not eat like a human would, he straight up eats things that will help with energy. Like I said earlier, he's licked an exposed outlet like it was an espresso shot. Downside is he can't see for shit in the dark so he's reliant on sensing energies, nightvision, or having one of his buddies that can see in the dark guide him. Can be killed if his brain stem is destroyed, but is also very weakened by the typical stuff (gunshots, stab wounds, severe bodily trauama, etc). but can be severely weakened by being trapped in insulated rooms/wrapped in insulators. If exposed to these things and not able to find a sustainable source of electrical energy, he will die. (rubber, steel, copper are some good insulators)

Gaz

I don't know why but I'm gonna make him a Siren. For some reason Siren!Gaz just melts my heart and I wanna hold him. I don't care if he can lure me to my death with his voice, I wanna hear him sing :'(

He's typically pretty human appearing, it's a natural instinct for Sirens, but when he's tired or distracted (like working out/doing paperwork), you can start to see some very fish-like qualities. Mostly very gorgeous iridescent scales around his ears, eyes, neck, shoulders, knees, top of his feet, and back of his hands.

Can breathe underwater, has the best vision in the dark, eats like a typical person but with more sea food cravings or cravings for fatty foods (like human), when in full Siren form he doesn't have a "mermaid's" tail, it's much more shark-like so he can accelerate really fast. Generally just more shark-like, except his scales are fish-like. His nose, like sharks, is super sensitive to certain changes, so booping his nose always throws him off if it's surprise, but he will also bump his nose into people/things without realizing it to get a better sense of it. Can be killed by things humans can, susceptible to parasites.

Price

Honestly, his has been the hardest but I'm gonna do changeling. I honestly don't know a lot about them, and quite frankly I've already got one homebrewed monster here, so why not another?

He's definitely the one everyone mistakes for being human cause he's so good at keeping up appearances. But there are always times where Price manipulates his appearance/body just enough that it's a little startling for those that believed him to be human to suddenly realize he's very much not.

He's got better eyesight in the dark than a human, but nowhere near close to what Gaz has. He's good at picking up on scents though, as his nose is a bit more attune to sniffing out humans than anything. He's not a bloodsucker, but changelings typically feed on weakened/ill/very old/very young humans, so he's able to tell when something is wrong with someone. Stifles the more violent urges of his species by eating a primarily meat heavy diet with a lot of raw veggies for the crunch. Most susceptible to things with iron or salt (obvi) but can still be fatally wounded by stab wounds/gunshots. Most other stuff won't kill him but it'll certainly hurt and he'll complain the entire time.

Alejandro and Rudy

These two are werewolves and Los Vaqueros is their pack :'). Most Vaqueros are also werewolves, but they do have a variety of other creatures commonly found in North America.

And finally, the whole point of this: we got our boy Ghost as a literal human being. Nothing more, just a dude. A dude with so much fucked up shit happening to him constantly it's just assumed he must be inhuman. NOPE! He's just a dude, a very very unlucky, and probably cursed, dude.

So yeah, that's what I have so far! Working title is "Cheers to the Unknown"

Taglist (if you want added let me know in the replies/reblogs): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom

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nescaveckwriter · 3 months ago

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Stethoscopes & Triangle - Chapter 6 💖

A/N: OMW😱😱😱...Y'all, I know it's been a while, so sorry, life has been busy😳, but I hope y'all like this chapter, please let me know what y'all think... Enjoy 💕

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, angst, heartbreak, mention of death, hard scenes, terror , bombs , anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Sam Winchester, Amy Summers, Cas Paul Summers, Dean Winchester.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:1875😅

Chapter Six 🤩

His eyes dark, wide and filled with fear, he heard the sound of rustling water, he heard the people screaming for his Amy and another man, to get out of there, but it was too late, the water filled the subway, he heard the people in the distance saying “Ain’t no way someone could’ve survived that” it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, he clasped his shirt, trying to get air inside his lungs, but it sure as hell didn’t work, he didn’t even realise he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face, he lost the love of his life, the woman he’d always knew would be a mother for his kids… the only woman he ever truly loved… She’s gone, just like that… GONE! He heard someone scream in the distance for a medic, for him, but there was a part of him that wanted to give up. His sweet, beautiful Amy is gone, and she’s never coming back. The medics came to him, saying he's busy having a panic attack, but in all honesty, it felt more like a heart attack.

Water everywhere, separated during the flood, Amy found herself against some sort of concrete, debris, gasping for air, water in her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe normally. Her eyes burning from whatever was in that water, shivering, looking around and then finally calling out “Dean, Dean?” but her voice came out sounding raspy, and more like a squeak, he needs to be okay, he just needs to be alive. Never in her life has she felt so afraid, so alone, so scared. She clung to that piece of debris, as if that was the last source of hope. Her clothes were wet, her hair wet strings clinging to her cold skin, she tried to make something out, anything… but it was so dark and water wherever you looked. With trembling hands she rubbed over her face, tired, scared, hurt and alone she found herself stranded. She drew her knees to her chest, resting her head on top of her legs, closing her eyes, recalling everything that took place, sighing as she recalled the last conversation she had with Sam, is that how he's going to remember her.?

He's breath ragged, the blood trickling down the side of his head, from some open cut, a piece of glass sticking, out of his upper torso, grunting “That's great, survived the war only to die in some damn subway, hell of a way to go” maybe he's crazy talking to himself like this, but hey it's not like anyone's going to sent him to some head doctor, grunting as he pulled out the piece of glass. He chuckled a little, when he saw a bottle of bourbon, drifting in the water, “at least there's some booze,” he grabbed the bottle, “ah! Damn, here I thought all my luck was gone, this bottle is nearly full” he opened the cap, took a few big gulps, with the back of his hand he swiped the last few drops away, closing it again. He screams out “Any chance for a burger? Just randomly drifting around! Preferably not soggy, and extra cheese.” He laughs at himself. He walks further in the water, coming up to his chest, it's cold, but he's had a lot worse. As he kept walking he heard a small squeak sound that called his name “Dean, Dean?” He could hardly believe it, it's Amy… he quickly moved through the water and debris, towards the sound, that's when he saw her, she looked so vulnerable, so alone, far from the strong doctor he met. His voice came out a little more rough than intended “Sweetheart!” The way her head lifted, the way she looked at him, it made his heart melt there and then, she jumped into the water, made her way to him, snaked her arms around his , in a brittle voice “Dean, your alive” he smirked, resting his chin on her head, “Got to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me” a small giggle escaped her lips, “your an ass, you know that right” his calloused fingers, found their way to her chin, lifting her head so he could look into her blue eyes “might be true, but at least I àm a handsome ass” she tried to keep a straight face, but then she burst into laughter, a few seconds passed, when Dean joined in, both of them laughing hysterically.

It went on for a while, might have been the shock, adrenaline or the relief that they weren't alone in this. The two of them at least had each other. They made their way to the fallen concrete debris that were out of the water, sat there, Dean wrapped his arm around Amy's shoulder, they sat in silence, passing the bottle of bourbon between the two of them.

With the bottle of bourbon, halfway through, Amy broke the silence, “Dean?” Staring into the darkness, “yes!” She gulps, “you think, anyone knows we're alive?”

Dean takes another sip, barely audible, “Don't know” Amy looks at him, her blue eyes piercing, “what the hell is the matter with you?” He looks completely dumbfounded, “what?” Rolling her eyes, “you're not exactly a ray of sunshine, beaming of positivity, now are you?” Dean shrugs his shoulders “Bite me! What am I supposed to do, lie?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “urgh! Your …” trailing off, then looking away. Dean runs a hand through his hair, “look I'm sorry, I'm not exactly good at this heart to heart shit”. He tries to look at her face, but with the dim light, he can't make anything out. “Please look at me?”

Still looking away, tears softly running over her delicate skin, trying to hide it, “No!” Sounding slightly brittle. He Huff's, “oh for goodness sake, are you for real? You're not going to look at me ever again?”

She scoffs, “fine by me” He raises his voice “AMY! Look at me damnit”. But she doesn't respond, instead holding her gaze on something floating in the water. He growled a little, “Don't make me get off here, just look at me!”.

Her head flung around, her eyes wide, a sense of vulnerability, written all over her face, something that nearly never happened. Barely audible “I'm scared okay, are you happy now?”.

His face softened when he saw the look on her face, without thinking it through, he pulled her into his chest. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Wrapping her hands around him, “the least you can do is be a little more positive” saying between sniffles. He burrows his head in the crook of her neck, “sorry, not my forte”. He felt her sigh, “I hate being so… so…” he interrupts “human?”. She lets out a muffled groan “yes”. His breath trickled against the skin in her neck “hate to break it to you, but last time I checked, we are human.”

Her fingers slightly clenching to his shirt, her head against his shoulder, tears running down her cheeks, muffled sobbing sounds coming from her, all Dean did was hold her close, in that moment the two of them found comfort in their shared embrace.

Unsure how long they were holding onto each other, but Amy's sobbing died down, and Dean, unwilling pull back a little, his finger sliding underneath her chin, tilting so that he can stare into her blue eyes, the way she looked at him, took his breath away, she was stripped of the stoic appearance she used to have, and instead he was met with a open, raw vulnerability that no one knew was in Dr. Amy Summers. His voice was a little rough, “Amy!” A small “mhmm?” Escaped her lips.

His free hand brushing away a strand of hair, without breaking eye contact he, hoarsely whispers “I really want to…” trailing off, not finding words, instead his lips plunge into hers. At first she was taken aback, but then gave into the feeling of his plump lips. She parted her lips, and he wasted no time, slipping in his tongue, and in that moment the kiss became passionate, hungry almost, his hands cupping her face, while her fingers tangled in his hair, only fueling the passion more. Only breaking the kiss when they were completely breathless. Panting a little, both of them share a look of amazement, and a tinge of embarrassment. Needing to get space between the two of them, Amy and Dean, go and shift to sit on the farest ends of the makeshift debris haven, not uttering a single word, each with their own thoughts, Amy can't believe she kissed another man, than Sam, feeling guilty, and something else, almost excitement, she loved Sam, but this kiss, felt different, felt exhilarating, as for Dean, his mind racing, never in his life has he kissed a woman, and he was known as a player, and felt such a spark, such desire, such fulfilment, as if he found what he's been longing for, for so long. The shared moment between them is nearly sacred. The awkward silence that fell between was palpable.

Sam sat there in the back of the ambulance, defeated look on his face, the panic attack had died down, but the heartache would never go away. He nearly didn't even hear the ringing of his phone. The vibration in his pocket tearing him away from his thoughts, picking it up, not even sounding like himself “hello?”.

The gruff, cold voice of Paul Summers ringing in his ears “ah! What's the matter, you sound sad!” Sam sighed, despite the fact that he hated this man he was still Amy's dad, his voice tired, broken “P-Paul! It's… it's Amy” he couldn't say the words, he paused, trying to regain the capability of telling this man, his daughter is gone.

Paul let out a cold chuckle “yeah! Shame that had to happen, I'll arrange a nice funeral for my daughter, she'll be greatly missed” Sam could not believe what he heard, his eyes wide with realisation. “You bastard! This was you, wasn't it! How… how … could you, she's your daughter.”

Unfazed Paul answered, “to my defence, I did warn you something bad will happen!”

Sam snapped “are you hearing yourself?” His voice was low, dark “you listen to me, you bastard.” Paul Snickers “okay sonny, before you go on and rant about how you're gonna kill me, How about you call the fire department, to your office, that's currently burning to the ground, oh! And thanks for leaving the witness files out in the open, you've been a great help.” With that he ended the call.

Sam sat there, trying to wrap his head around everything that just took place. Adrenaline and anger coursing through his veins. When his phone rang again, he immediately picked up, “what do you want” but the voice on the other end of the line wasn't Paul Summers, no, it was far worse… a ghost from his past …

@jackles010378 @k-slla @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99

#spotify #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jared padalecki #sam and dean #benny lafitte #nescaveckwriter #nescveckwriter #spn fanfic

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