#and tomorrow I can set my alarm properly and have a quiet day where I try to get my essay done and have a night to myself

[exopelagic]

I have the curse of so much to say all the time I should rlly get a diary

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

A/N: I don't know where this came from, or why I felt the need to write it, but here we are. I hope you enjoy this little stop gap before I next post after I've finished my Master's dissertation. I haven't edited this properly because I don't have the energy right now so please excuse any mistakes in it.

Word count: 2.2k

‘Can you come over?’ You asked, lips protruded into a gentle pout. The bedroom was dark and quiet, and the bed was cold and lonely. All you could bring yourself to do was stare at the ceiling as hope that sleep would soon settle itself upon you. ‘Come over and cuddle me.’ 

‘Babe,’ he sighed softly, so softly that you could see the toying smile at his lips as he did, ‘you know I can’t do that.’ 

You blinked slowly. ‘Who made that rule? It’s such a shit rule. Like, who is society to tell me that I can’t cuddle my fiancé? You realise how fucked up that is?’ 

Taron chuckled on the other end of the phone and you could just about hear him gulp down a sip of what you assumed would be a beer. ‘Some traditionalist years ago. Said it was bad luck to see one another, or whatever they say it is anyway.’ 

‘Exactly!’ You exclaimed before clapping your hand over your mouth tightly, hoping that you hadn’t woken anybody in the house. ‘We aren’t traditionalists. We’re far from traditional. Please come over, Taron. I will get on my knees and beg if I have to. I miss you.’ 

‘It’s been five hours, Y/N.’ 

‘The longest five hours of my life.’ 

You let yourself slide down your bed until your head rested against Taron’s pillow, his scent enveloping you beautifully. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Your mum and best friend had gone to bed a couple of hours prior, telling you that you needed to go to sleep yourself so that you weren’t tired the following day. But you weren’t tired. You were running on so much adrenaline that your brain simply wouldn’t shut off. 

‘I miss you too,’ he whispered quietly. ‘If Madeline sees me then we’re both going to get it in the neck. You are aware of that, right?’ 

‘She doesn’t have to know.’ You smirked to yourself, knowing that you’d gotten your way and that he would be on his way to the house any minute. The muffled sounds of him shuffling around the hotel room and tripping over something made you chuckle gently. ‘I’ll sneak downstairs for a glass of water and let you in through the back door so neither of them hear. Then, we’ll come up to our bedroom, lay in bed, sleep, and set an alarm for stupidly early and sneak you back out so that neither of them see.’ 

‘You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you?’ He laughed. 

‘I can’t sleep in this bed without you. And if I don’t sleep then I’ll be shattered tomorrow and Mads will ring my neck.’ 

The line went quiet and then you heard the click of a hotel door lock. ‘I’ll text you when I’m outside?’ 

‘Or you could stay on the phone to me and we could talk? We haven’t done that in a while.’ 

‘We haven’t.’ You could hear the smile in Taron’s voice as he spoke, and you could just about make out the faint sound of the lift bell when it got to him. ‘I remember when we first started talking and we’d talk while you drove to and from work. That feels like such a long time ago now, doesn’t it?’ 

‘It does,’ you agreed. ‘Sometimes I would just go for a drive so we could call because there was something about talking to you while driving that did this thing to me.’ 

‘Did a thing, did it?’ Taron smirked. ‘What kind of thing?’

‘Taron I swear to god, get your mind out of the gutter,’ you giggled. ‘You know that driving relaxes me.’ 

‘I do…’ 

‘Well talking to you relaxes me too. So driving and talking to you was like this wave of peace that washed over me. It still does. My entire body just goes limp when we’re talking. But in the best possible way.’ 

You heard the engine of Taron’s car start and your body tensed eagerly. ‘I can’t believe you would go out just so we could talk. Where did you go?’ 

‘Sometimes I just drove and parked up at the side of the road somewhere,’ you confessed. ‘Other times I would drive to the shop and then walk around aimlessly for an amount of time that seemed appropriate before I drove home. Then every now and then I would go for food somewhere.’ 

‘I remember the food stops,’ he laughed. ‘It’s so weird driving around with no traffic.’ 

‘That’s because it’s almost one in the morning. You need to not park right outside the house. My mum wakes up in the middle of the night to use the toilet and she always looks outside. If she sees the car then…’ 

‘I’ll park behind the bushes outside next door’s house, how about that?’ He laughed softly. ‘I couldn’t sleep either, by the way. Even though we’ve gone months without seeing one another before. This feels different. There’s something else there.’ 

You hummed in agreement. ‘There’s a level of adrenaline running through me right now. Sneaking around like a teenager trying to sneak a guy into the house when I’d been told I wasn’t allowed. Except this time, I’m sneaking the guy into the house. Into our own house.’ 

‘You used to sneak guys into the house as a teenager?’ 

‘Just one. My first boyfriend, Max.’ You laughed at the memory. ‘Well, actually, I failed miserably. I tried to sneak him into the house not knowing that my mum was in the living room and could see everything I was doing. She shit me up when she opened the door. I got grounded for a month and I never tried to sneak anyone in again.’ 

‘So what you’re telling me is that you’re about to sneak me into the house when the last time you tried to sneak someone in, you got caught and grounded for a month? This doesn’t bode very well.’ 

‘Even if all I get is a kiss then I’m happy,’ you smiled. ‘But I’m an adult now so she can’t ground me. Or at least, she can’t ground me until after Antigua.’ 

Taron laughed. ‘You’re funny. Okay I’m turning onto the main street now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.’ 

‘I love you too.’ 

******

‘Shh, don’t wake them up,’ you giggled as you stepped out of the house. He’d tripped over one of the plants on the path to the back door and had frozen in place as you tried to listen for anybody in the house. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled him into your lips, sighing happily when he grabbed your waist and kissed you back. 

The kiss was short and sweet, almost as though it was a kiss of habit. Like the kind of kiss you’d share every day for the rest of your lives. A kiss that said ‘hello’ and ‘I love you’ all in one. 

When you pulled away from the kiss, he held you to him and pressed his nose into your hair where he took a deep breath. A breath so deep that you swore it could have been the first breath he’d ever taken. His lungs filled with air and he smiled into you as he exhaled. 

‘I can’t believe that you talked me into this,’ Taron chuckled softly. ‘Out of all the things I thought I’d be doing tonight, sneaking into my own house wasn’t one of them.’ 

‘It didn’t take much convincing, did it, T?’ You laughed in response, stepping onto your tiptoes to kiss him again. ‘I asked you twice and here you are. Why, what did you think that you’d be doing tonight?’ 

Taron smirked at you and licked his lips slowly, leaning down to your ear. His breath tickled as he whispered, ‘Well before my phone rang, I was drinking beer, eating a bag of crisps and scrolling through Netflix trying to find something to watch. So not much.’ 

You did your best to hide the laughs radiating through you as you pulled away from him, head tilted to the side as you eyed him playfully. ‘Wow, you’re really sexy when you talk beer and crisps.’ 

‘I try my best. Come on, let’s go to bed.’ 

‘That sounds perfect,’ you sighed happily, taking his hand in yours and pulling him into the house. You kept a lookout while Taron locked the door as quietly as he could. 

He stepped in front of you and walked through the kitchen towards the hallway, listening out for anybody before letting you know that the coast was clear and that it was free for you to walk through. As you tiptoed through the house, you tried to stop giggling but it was hard. Taron kept turning to you with wide eyes to try and get you to stop but that only made it worse. 

‘You are shocking at sneaking people in,’ he laughed when your bedroom door was closed behind you. ‘Like, horrifyingly bad at sneaking people in.’ 

‘Did you not hear my story about Max?’

Taron wrapped his arms around your body and held you tightly against him. ‘I did. But I also tried not to think about you sneaking any other guy into any other house. Because I get jealous at the mere thought of you with somebody else.’ 

You smiled lightly, snuggling into his chest and taking a deep breath. Your eyes struggled to stay open as you stood in his arms. ‘But you’re the guy. The last guy I’ll ever be sneaking into a house.’ 

‘That’s true,’ he responded, peeling your dressing gown away from your body and letting it pool at your feet in a little material puddle. ‘Did you invite me over just to sleep or…’

‘Okay one,’ you laughed, ‘I didn’t invite you over. I can’t invite you to your own house. I asked you to come home. Two, as much as I would really, really like to…I’m absolutely exhausted.’ 

‘I thought you said you couldn’t sleep,’ he chuckled as he let go of you and walked over to his side of the bed. He peeled his t-shirt from his body and tugged his joggers down, climbing into bed and patting your side for you. 

You smiled as you climbed into the bed next to him, resting your head on his chest. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t exhausted. Mads and mum had me busy constantly since you left. We ordered Chinese food and then played Monopoly for what felt like hours. We made cocktails and then cleaned the entire house so that it looks good for tomorrow; we watched tv and had a proper pamper evening. And then we reminisced on childhood and then Mads pulled out the wedding scrapbook we’d made as kids and we cried over it for a good while. It doesn’t sound like a lot but it was exhausting. I just want you to hold me in bed. I want to enjoy our last night together before we become an official family.’ 

Taron smiled softly against the top of your head as he pulled the covers over your body and held you close. Your head lifted and fell with each breath he took. ‘What did you think the eve of your wedding would look like?’ He asked sincerely. 

‘I’m not sure I can share that information. It might be considered bad luck,’ you chuckled.

‘You’re funny. Come on, tell me. I’m curious.’ 

‘I always thought that I would try to get my fiancé to sneak into the house so that we could spend the night together because I am far from traditional and I just knew that I would hate to be away from him. Especially on a night as exciting as this one.’ 

‘So in essence, your mum and Madeline already knew that you were going to sneak me into the house?’ 

You could hear the smile in his voice as you held him tighter, pressing a dainty kiss to his chest as you nodded lightly. ‘What can I say? Other than you love me for my weird little quirks.’ 

‘I do,’ he said, kissing the top of your head. ‘I do wish that you’d told me they knew so that I didn’t park down the street and sneak in the back door like a teenager trying to sneak in after a night out with his mates.’ 

‘Yeah but it’s more fun this way, right?’ You asked, tilting your head up so that you could kiss his lips softly. ‘It’s like an adventure and makes us feel youthful. It’s a bit of fun in all of the chaos of planning and prepping that we’ve been in for months on end.’ 

Taron hummed. ‘It does feel quite nice. I know you said that you were tired but right now, here-’ 

‘Suddenly I’m not very tired,’ you smirked, rolling onto your back as Taron hovered over you and pressing his lips to yours sweetly. ‘Not tired at all. But shh, don’t wake anybody up.’ 

‘You’re one to talk,’ he giggled, reaching a hand under the covers. 

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

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[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

Request: “I have such a soft spot for Jungkook right now so can you make First words au I’m in love with this prompt! Thank you and fighting have a good day author-him I love you!!” @mochipabo95​

pairing: Jungkook x reader

premise: Leave it to Jeon Jungkook - one of the most sought after, beloved men in the world - to have the most bland phrase tattooed onto his arm. This isn’t going to be easy.

It’s late. Or maybe it’s early. If he's being completely honest with himself, he’s afraid to check the time. He knows that he hasn’t slept at all. 

Jungkook stretches, finally deciding to give up on sleep and see if he can do something productive with his life. 

It turns out that a shower and some breakfast is the most productive things are going to get this morning. Jungkook made the mistake of glancing at the words tattooed onto his arm not long after he got up, and that was all it took for him to set up camp on the couch and begin where he left off last night. 

His soulmate bond finally appeared just yesterday afternoon. The fated first words were set in place, and what those words entailed had him nearly losing his mind all night. 

Nobody knew when or how the first words would imprint themselves onto the skin, but there were just a few things that had become apparent to specialists that studied the strange soulmate bond: 

Fact #1: The words were the first your soulmate would say to you

Fact #2: When the words appeared on your flesh, it usually meant you had about 24-48 hours before meeting your soulmate. 

That was all fine and dandy, of course. In fact, Jungkook had always looked forward to the day that his soulmate mark would appear and he would finally get to meet the person he’s been waiting for all his life. There were just two problems with the words that appeared on his arm yesterday afternoon, mid-meal with the other boys. Jimin had been the one to see them appear; Jungkook was far too lost in his meal to pay much mind to the slight tingling in his left arm. he certainly started paying attention when Jimin practically spit his food out.

Problem #1: Today and tomorrow, which was the most likely time that he would meet his soulmate, there are fan meetings scheduled. Why was that a problem, beside all the publicity that would no doubt take place? Let’s look at #2.

Problem #2: The first words that his soulmate would say to him were going to be said by nearly everyone at the fan meeting. Right there, tattooed onto his arm, were the words, “Good morning!”

“Good morning.”

Jungkook leaps off of the couch, his eyes wide and already panting as he whips around, only to be faced with a half-asleep Namjoon. He frowns at the maknae, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before slinking into the kitchen. 

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to remember how to properly breathe, before following the leader. “...hi.”

Namjoon chuckles darkly, peering into the fridge. “You’re in for a long day if you’re going to be that wired every time somebody says good-”

“Don’t!” Jungkook holds his hands out before running them through his hair. “Don’t say it. Nope. Let me breathe.”

Continuing to laugh quietly at his antics, Namjoon just shoots Jungkook a pitying glance while swiping some milk out of the fridge. “Have you eaten?”

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

Namjoon was right. 

It’s been a long freaking day. 

So far, Jungkook has had about 47 false alarms, just from people saying the simple and awfully common phrase of good morning.

Don’t even get him started on how many times he’s overheard the word ‘good’ and nearly lost it. 

His hair is standing at odd ends, and there are the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes that no amount of makeup can cover up. The fans that form the line to begin meeting the boys whisper quietly amongst each other, wondering if he’s been having trouble sleeping. 

Once he begins signing autographs and meeting fans individually, he finds himself clenching his jaw so tightly that a headache is beginning to grace his temples. 

Every so often a fan greets him with ‘good morning’, leaving Jungkook unsure of whether he should burst into tears of joy at potentially meeting his soulmate, or just get up and leave before he falls apart. 

In the end, he simply settles for clenching his jaw a little tighter. 

Another girl makes her way down the line, hesitantly approaching the clearly tense boy, shuffling before him and hardly daring to say a word for fear of his response. 

Jungkook glances up at the girl, a part of him appreciating her kind eyes that flit about the room. Her cheeks are a little red, she’s clearly nervous about meeting him. 

The girl catches him looking at her, and she takes a leap of faith, offering up her prettiest smile.

“Good morning!”

Jungkook’s shoulders tense as he bites down on any form of hope that tries to overtake him. Through his clenched jaw, Jungkook only mumbles out, “Mhmm.”

Reaching for the photo card the girl had brought, prepared to just move on, she hisses at the burn in her arm. Jungkook mirrors the action, frowning as there’s a slight burn. 

Everyone in the room is ultra tuned in to Jungkook’s needs at the moment, and soon the room falls quiet as they try to decipher what is happening to cause discomfort to the maknae. 

Taehyung, who sits beside Jungkook and has been preparing for this all morning, leaps into action. Quickly rolling up Jungkook’s sleeve, he watches as the good morning! tattooed onto his arm begins to fade until it’s hardly visible. 

Jungkook doesn’t dare breathe, simply looking at the poor girl who has suddenly gone very pale. Slow enough to not startle her, he motions for her to show him her arm. 

“Did you happen to get a soulmate mark recently?” Taehyung asks, completely unaffected by the situation. The girl nods slowly, coming back to life as she pushes up her sleeve. 

Sure enough, there’s the faded word, mhmm. Looking up at Jungkook with wide eyes, he delights in the way her frown smooths out into a radiant smile. He scrunches his nose at how adorable she is. 

“I can’t believe those were our first words,” she utters out, laughing softly. “Do you have any idea how many times people say ‘mhmm’? That’s not even a real word!”

Jungkook, unable to control the giddiness he’s feeling, jumps up from his seat and slides over the table, making the entire room squeal and laugh at the action. He hardly hears them though as he comes closer to his soulmate. 

There’s a laugh that can only be described as joyful that rumbles through his chest as he looks down at his soulmate. 

“For as long as I live, I’m never telling another person good morning.”

masterlist

wow shoutout to @baepsaetay​ for eating with me and making me realize that Baekhyun is my boy

[queenxxxsupreme]

I just thought of something- Arthur as a dad and having a little girl that he's so overprotective of and he's got a ranch and he's all healthy and thick- This should be canon I swear.

A/N: BABE this might have just started a mini series involving dad!Arthur and my new ending to rdr2 that I know we deserved. There’s at least going to be two more parts (that could be read separately from this one) including Daisy’s birthday which has some members from our lovely gang in it and some drama as well as the part where Daisy gets her first horse which also has some drama in it! Also just saying, I am open to dad!Arthur requests... 

Additional Note: So in this, Charles’s SO is named Lucy and Abigail and John’s unnamed daughter that they eventually have is named Grace :) They are just mentioned but in this RDR2 AU mini series they will be appearing!

Warnings: DOES INVOLVE SPOILERS FOR RDR2 ENDING, mostly fluffy!, female!reader, 

***

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!”

Arthur jolted awake. His hands gripped the pillow beneath his head with white knuckles. 

For a split second, he didn’t know where he was. The room was dark save for a bit of moonlight that came in through the curtains that covered the window. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin. He pushed the quilt and fur blanket off of himself, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

Arthur’s gaze fell on the end table by the bed. The picture on the table brought him back to reality. 

He picked the wooden frame up, a small smile coming to his lips. It was a picture of you, him, and Daisy when she was a newborn. 

“Oh how time flies.” He murmured quietly, placing the picture back down. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to where you should have been sleeping, but that side of the bed was empty. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that he was alone. You had trouble sleeping sometimes. But it was odd that he hadn’t noticed you getting out of bed. 

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!” Micah Bell’s voice thundered in Arthur’s ears. “That’s all there is! Living and dying!”

Arthur stood to his feet and moved down the hallway, making his way to Daisy’s room. He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. 

The little lump beneath the blankets on Daisy’s bed settled Arthur’s racing heart. All the worry that had been swirling in his stomach dwindled down at the sight of his seven-year-old daughter. 

The family dog, Carson, huffed from the foot of her bed, alarmed that someone had opened the door. 

“Shhh, boy.” Arthur tried to hush him before he could disturb Daisy, but it was too late. 

“Carson.” She whined.

“Sorry, sweetpea.”

“Daddy?” Daisy turned over in her bed, brushing her messy hair back out of her face.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya up.” Arthur moved into the room, giving Carson a pat on the head. “Just wanted to check on ya.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause…. Well ‘cause I was just worried about ya.” He explained.

Daisy looked up at him for a few moments. 

“Momma said you was havin’ bad dreams.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“When did she say that?”

“Earlier when she came in to check on me.”

Arthur would’ve laughed if the reason that you both were so insistent on checking on Daisy wasn’t because of your past. 

“Were you havin’ bad dreams, daddy?”

“No, sweetpea.” He started to tuck her in, making sure the blanket covered her properly and that she was comfortable. “I was just a little restless. Sometimes it’s hard for daddy to go to sleep ‘cause he knows there’s so much to do around here.”

“I can help you do stuff, daddy.” Daisy offered. “That way you can sleep better.”

Arthur smiled. 

“Sweet girl.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You help me plenty. Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day. Do you know why it’s a busy day?”

A huge grin spread across her face. 

“I get a horse.”

“What? No, no. That don’t sound right.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Daddy!” Daisy giggled. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, sweetpea.” Arthur kissed her head once more. “Sleep tight, sweetpea. First thing tomorrow mornin’, we’ll be goin’ into town to get you a little horse.”

“What if I want a big horse?”

“Well, we’ll have to just see what the stables have got.” He chuckled. “Good night, sweetpea.”

“Good night, daddy.”

Arthur closed the door to Daisy’s room behind himself. 

He looked down the hallway towards the kitchen, hearing the sound of a quiet conversation. 

He found you and Hosea sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Drinking coffee in the middle of the night? What is it with you two?”

“We’re already up.” Hosea shrugged his shoulders. “No point in trying to go back to sleep.”

You chuckled a little. 

Arthur moved around to stand behind your chair.

“Was Daisy up earlier?” He leaned down to kiss your head. 

“Yeah, briefly. Carson heard something outside and started barking.” You nodded, taking a sip of coffee. 

Arthur looked to the large window in the kitchen that looked over the backyard. His brows furrowed together. 

“Hm. Why didn’t I hear nothin?” He moved towards the window, lingering towards the side instead of standing directly in the middle. 

“You were talkin’ in your sleep again.” You said quietly. “You only do that when you’re having real bad dreams.”

Arthur nodded. 

“I already went out there and looked around. Didn’t see anything.” Hosea told him. 

“I’m gonna go double check.”

“What- You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“That’s not it, old man.”

Hosea watched as Arthur disappeared down the hallway, going to the backroom to retrieve a gun.

“He only wants to see for himself that there’s nothin’ out there.” You spoke so only Hosea could hear you. “He was sayin’ Micah’s name again, Hosea.”

Hosea let out a sigh. 

“He thinks Micah’s gonna come after him.”

“You don’t think so?” You tilted your head to the side a little, eyebrows drawing together. “After…. After what happened…. Arthur ruined his plans at getting the money from Blackwater. Dutch died on that mountain. You’re the only other one who knows and Micah knows you’re here too. It would only make sense for him to come here and…. and I’m afraid, Hosea.”

Hosea shook his head softly, reaching over to take your hand. 

“Micah Bell is a coward, Y/N. He knows it. He knows Arthur’s got all of us in his corner. You, me, Charles, John-,”

“But Hosea, we’ve got families.” Your voice cracked. “We have Daisy and-and Charles and Lucy are having one of their own. Abigail and John have Jack and Grace. We-We ain’t what we used to be.”

Hosea was quiet for a few moments. 

Arthur passed through the kitchen fully dressed and carrying a shotgun.

Your eyes met his briefly. The air in your lungs escaped. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. 

The back door closed behind Arthur.

“If it comes down to it, Y/N, we will do what we have to do.” Hosea assured you.

You nodded your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks that managed to escape. 

***

A half an hour had passed and Arthur had yet to return to the house. You ventured out to find him. He sat on the front step with the shotgun still in his hands. Upon hearing the front door open, he looked over his shoulder. 

“Do you plan on stayin’ out here all night?” 

He didn’t answer you, turning his head to look back to the woods. 

You sat down next to him, slipping your arm around his. You kissed his shoulder and leaned against him. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I just…. just got this feelin’ that ain’t sittin’ right with me. That’s all.”

“We’ve been here for four years, Arthur. We’ve been quiet, haven’t drawn any attention to ourselves and haven’t let any of the locals know our real names. There’s no way he’d know where we are.”

“If that snake wants to find me, he could. I know it. And if he…. I don’t want him anywhere near Daisy.”

“Charles and Lucy are just down the road. You know Charles is just as vigilant as you are and with those dogs he’s got, he’d know if anyone was setting up camp in the woods between our property and his. If need be, next time Sadie comes through we can ask her to dig around and see where Micah’s at. You know she’d be willing to help.”

“I hate to get her involved.” Arthur muttered, shaking his head softly. 

“If it involves the future of her niece, you know damn well she’d want to be involved.” You rubbed his arm. “It’s early, but we still got a couple hours before the sun comes up.”

He let out a breath. 

“M’not gonna sleep at all tonight, pumpkin.”

“Then at least come lay down. Let me read to you. You don’t need to be out here alone with just your thoughts.”

Arthur’s eyes found yours.

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know.” You smiled. “Come on.” You patted his arm and stood up. 

“Daisy’s real excited about gettin’ herself a horse.” Arthur put his hand on the small of your back as he walked behind you. “You don’t think she’s still too young for one, do you? I mean, she’s so small. She’s smaller than Jack was and he was a tiny kid.”

“She’s just fine for her age, Arthur.” You assured him. “It’ll be good for her to get started with a horse now. It’ll keep you both busy all spring.”

“What if she gets hurt?”

“She’s bound to get hurt. It’s a part of growin’ up.”

“I don’t want her gettin’ hurt.”

The door to Daisy’s room opened and Carson slipped out. 

“Daisy.” You said her name. “You should be in bed. It’s four in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep, momma.” She lingered in the doorway to her room, a frown on her lips. 

You looked back to Arthur. He nodded his head, moving past you so he could get to your daughter. 

“You wanna come lay down with me and momma? She’s gonna read a storybook to me.” 

“Yeah!” Daisy held her hands out for him. Arthur grunted as he picked her up and placed her on his hip. 

Carson slipped into the bedroom just before you closed the door. Arthur put Daisy down on the bed and took his hat off, placing it on her head. 

“Daddy! It’s too big!” She giggled, pushing it back so it didn’t fall over her eyes.

“Nah, I think it fits just perfect.” He grinned. “I’ll be right back. M’gonna go change. Don’t get too comfortable though, sweetpea. You’re in my spot.”

You slipped off your houseshoes and pulled a book from the shelf. 

“Momma?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Where can I get a hat like this daddy’s?” Daisy put Arthur’s hat on the stand next to the bed and then settled back against his pillows. 

“I reckon if you mention it to daddy while you’re in town tomorrow he can get you one.” You sat down on your side of the bed, opening up the book. Carson made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

A few moments later, Arthur returned to the bedroom. He stopped just after shutting the door and put his hands on his hips. 

“Sweetpea.”

“Yes, daddy?” She giggled, bringing the blankets up to cover her nose.

“I think we got a problem. Where am I supposed to sleep if you’re in my spot?”

She giggled again, pulling the blankets up over her head as if to hide from him. 

“Arthur, she needs to sleep some.” You told him quietly. “Don’t get her-,”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he chose to tickle her through the blankets. Daisy’s delighted laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but smile. 

Once Arthur was content with her laughter, he stopped tickling her and pulled the blankets back. Daisy’s hair was a mess. 

“Little Miss Daisy, we are definitely going to have to fix your hair in the morning.” Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead. “But first, you need to get some sleep.”

“Nuh-uh! Momma was gonna read to us!”

“I’ll read until someone falls asleep.” You yawned. “Though I might be that someone.”

“You heard your mother, sweetpea. Scoot over so she can read us a story.” Arthur nudged Daisy over towards the middle of the bed. 

Once the two were settled, you began your story. 

“A long time ago, there were two cowboys….”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284

[jimlingss]

Hi! Here’s a request for your Drabble game: namjoon + fantasy au + “Take this seriously, it’s a life or death situation!” Can be funny or angsty and sorry if this request is too specific haha

Anonymous said: Hello Kina! I love literally all of your works! Can I request this prompt? “That’s barbaric.” “That’s how you survive.” Any member!

Anonymous said: zombie au with any member ?

Zombies count as fantasy, right? lol

↳ The Unintended

2.5k || 50% Angst, 50% Fluff || Kim Namjoon || Zombie Apocalypse!AU

You’re lucky to have Namjoon by your side.

He’s always been the outdoorsy type. One of your first dates together was a camping trip in the wilderness. You remember being mortified then — having no place to do your makeup or properly shower or be able to make yourself look good for him. But now you look back on the memories with fondness. He didn’t care back then and he doesn’t care now.

Not to mention, Namjoon was also a boy scout for eight years. When he got too old for that, he took up rock climbing and spent hours in the gym to beef up his arms. It’s where you met him in the first place as a receptionist at the gym where you were working part-time while going to school.

He knows how to fish. How to set up traps. How to start a campfire. 

Namjoon’s saved your life countless times.

But then again, he’d argue you’ve saved him lots of times too. Years of schooling to become a nurse wasn’t wasted on you after all. And you’re the better cook than he is.

“Look what I caught!”

You look up from the fire where your dear husband is holding a usual fish. But in his other hand is a rabbit held by its ears, dead. It’s dripping of blood, limp in his grip and you feel a twinge of guilt.

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s how you survive,” he says. “I’ll prepare it to roast.”

You hum, taking the fish from him and the pair of you fall into routine. Namjoon works alongside you to prepare the food, poking the fire interchangeably and the both of you looking up once in a while through the thicket of the forest. 

After a moment, you pipe up, “Hey.”

Namjoon glances up at you and says “hey” with a tender, dimpled smile. 

The corner of your mouth quirks without being able to resist. “I’ve been thinking we should get on the move again. I saw a cottage down the road on our way here. Maybe we could check it out.”

“It’s probably already been ransacked.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be nice to sleep with a roof over our heads. I don’t want you to stay up and have to keep watch.”

“We take turns.”

You give Namjoon a look. “You never wake me up for my turn.”

He smiles sheepishly and you put your blunt knife down, quickly growing solemn. “I’m serious, Joon. It’s not good for your health to not sleep and I can’t— I can’t have you breaking down on me.”

Namjoon softens when he recognizes your distressed tone, when he sees your expression marred with worry. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning then.”

You nod and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

As the fish and rabbit are roasted over the blazing fire, smoke fills your nose and you cough before batting it away. You’re starving — in general, you’ve been feeling weak these days but you don’t dare say anything to Namjoon. God knows what he’s putting himself through to make you feel as comfortable as you can. 

You don’t want to worry him even more.

But you can’t hide your groan or sickly expression when the fish you’re supposed to eat comes up to your mouth.

Namjoon’s immediately alarmed and wide-eyed. “What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

You hand the stick that’s pierced with the fish over to him while cupping your mouth, trying not to vomit. “I’m sorry. It just smells really bad.”

“I made it the exact same way before.” He frowns and bites into the fish that’s still steaming. Namjoon chews in his cheek. “It tastes fine, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll have the rabbit.”

But as you shift over, your husband’s eyes bore into your profile.

Namjoon stares at you. He gawks.

Then his mouth opens and he says— “Are you pregnant?”

Your eyes double and you look back at him. But then you scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You look away from him, picking at the meat, but you swallow hard in the meanwhile, mind racing. It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be possible. You haven’t had your period for three months — but you didn’t think twice about it. Not when there were more pressing matters. Not when you just assumed it stopped because you haven’t had your nutrients and you’ve been starving.

Namjoon knows the gears in your head are turning by your expression. He knows after years of being together.

“Y/N.”

“I already said it’s not possible.”

“There’s a city ten miles away from here. It’ll take half a day to walk there, but there should be a pharmacy or a hospital—”

“We are not going to the city,” you interrupt in exasperation. “It’s a death sentence, Namjoon, and we’re fine out here.”

“Not if you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not.” You deflate with an annoyed sigh. “I know my body best, alright? So just drop it.”

Namjoon stays silent. 

The rustling leaves of the forest and the distant sound of the river rushing fills the growing space between the two of you. And it sinks in how harsh and upset you got. You look up towards your husband with remorseful eyes. The last thing you want is to fight out here. Who knows when it could be your last moment together. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just worried.”

You nod. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yet deep down, uncertainty swirls and you’re green with nausea again.

...

It took a year to happen.

At first, it was called a flu outbreak. Authorities kept it contained for a few weeks until it wasn’t anymore. Within the span of another week, it was declared a worldwide pandemic and entire countries went into quarantine. 

Life itself shut down. People complained and protested, and when thousands started to drop dead, there were protests for lack of government action. Then, it was millions dead.

Developing countries fell first. It didn’t take long after that for developed nations to follow.

Chaos. Panic. Looting. The dead walking the streets.

You still get nightmares about it. Namjoon does too — when he’s holding you and suddenly jolts awake, gasping. It’s then and there that you know he’s had a nightmare of one of the many close calls.

“I thought the cottage was closer than this.”

The both of you are trekking through the forest, lugging your bags and weapons, trying to remain as quiet and elusive as possible. 

Namjoon looks over his shoulder. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“It should be up ahead.”

You hum, feeling the heat of the sun beating down on you. But it’s still better now with the canopy of the trees hiding you. It’s refreshing even. You admire the unfamiliar scenery. 

All at once, you stop. None of this should be unfamiliar.

Namjoon doesn’t hear the crunch of leaves behind him and turns around.

“This isn’t the direction of the cottage, is it?”

“Y/N.”

Your brows furrow deep enough to hurt. “I already said we’re not going to the city, Namjoon! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

Suddenly, there’s snarling in the distance. Namjoon, on alert, clasps his palm over your mouth and both sets of your eyes flicker over. There’s a shadow in the distance, a lurching figure amongst the trees. It snarls again, jerking a bit in your direction, but then no sounds follow. 

It passes.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“We have to go eventually, Y/N,” he whispers. “We need more supplies and if I can get my hands on a car, that would help us.”

“But—”

Your husband gingerly takes your hand, cradling it softly. “We’ll be careful.”

You gaze at him, searching his expression as if you’re painting his features to the forefront of your mind. But you already have. Yet, it’s not enough to feel comforted. “I can’t lose you, Namjoon. I can’t.”

Namjoon reaches out to hug you, embracing your body, frame overtaking yours.

You grasp onto his shoulders, trying to savour the moment and capture his warmth.

“You won’t. Not if I can help it.”

You nod into his chest.

The trek to the city is completed by afternoon and you find yourself standing in the remains of what was once civilization. There are decayed buildings, abandoned tanks, and much to Namjoon’s delight, many deserted cars. You see zombies bumbling around too. They’ve infested every corner street, every line of the road, and alley, nook and cranny. 

Their bodies are decaying, some with skulls lodged in half and their brain unraveling behind them. You have to hold back a gag when you can smell the rotten odour from here.

Luckily, you and Namjoon move quickly. You throw bricks and bottles at a distance to attract them and run the opposite way together.

First, you get to the small grocery store, opening your backpacks for the spare cans of beans and peas. It’s not much, but it’s a lot at this point. Namjoon even manages to score bandages.

“This is enough,” you murmur when you’re back on the open street again.

But before you can move on out, he stops. “Wait.”

You follow Namjoon’s line of sight. Across the street is a pharmacy and a horde of infected.

You pull your husband back before he can book it and the both of you hide behind discarded crates on the road. “Wait, why?”

“You know why. There were none in the grocery store. I checked, but if there’s any place that has them, it’s there.”

If looks could kill, Namjoon would be six feet under and then crawling out of his grave as a zombie. Maybe as the first one who wasn’t bitten or infected by the virus. “You’re being an idiot.” 

Namjoon grins. “Well, I was thinking of just shouting a battle cry and running straight in there.”

“Take this seriously,” you hiss and punch his arm. It does little to even push him back, much less hurt him. It doesn’t help that his muscles are rock solid. If only his brain was as developed — but if you were being honest, Namjoon was quite intelligent too. Except for right now. “It’s a life or death situation.”

Namjoon smiles, practically from ear to ear. 

The dimples on each side of his cheek crease and before you can react or say much else, he leans in and captures your lips with his. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. Then your husband cradles your face in his hand and tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You’re rendered to complete silence, melting into his touch as he takes your breath away. 

When he pulls from you, your lashes flutter.

You’re completely dazed. 

Until he grabs a rock near your foot and chucks it. It smashes into the window of a nearby boutique, glass shattering and all the zombies turn their heads. They snarl at a high pitch, screeching out as flounder towards the noise. Namjoon darts behind them, right out of your grasps.

You’d shout his name if it didn’t mean your own death sentence.

The wait is agonizing. You feel like you’re going to get a heart attack as you watch the door, unsure if he’ll come out. Even if he does, you don’t know if he’ll still be human and the Namjoon that you love. The one that you decided to marry, that you saw on the other end of the aisle and who cried like a dork when he saw you in the dress. 

Those years feel like another world. But they’re still memories you cherish.

The five minutes feels like an hour. You’re cursing, praying, regretting.

But then the buff idiot, your idiot, comes out and runs back to you with a massive grin. Uninjured. With bottles of penicillin, some kind of allergy medicine, and a pregnancy test you grimace at.

You seek refuge at an apartment building on the edge of the city.

It’s an expensive one that was fenced in and boarded up — one of the last to fall to the ruins.

You choose a room on the second floor that’s easy to get into and easy to escape if need be. Unfortunately a zombie lurches out from one of the rooms much to your horror, but Namjoon kills it. He takes his hatchet right into its skull and checks the other rooms before dragging the corpse out when you look nauseous again.

When it’s all over, Namjoon dusts his hands off like it was just some spring cleaning.

“What happens if I really am pregnant?”

You hold the test, motionless, until your head lifts to meet Namjoon’s softened eyes. There’s an overwhelming urge not to take it, to throw the box out the window and keep convincing yourself that it would be impossible to be carrying. But Namjoon risked his life for this.

And you know he won’t let it go. Not until an answer is certain.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he murmurs gently.

“I can’t give birth on my own, Namjoon.”

“I know.”

“If the baby even makes it that far,” you whisper and he grimaces. But what worries you far more, what’s put you in so much denial, and made you sick with terror is the fact that you know— “I’ll slow you down even more, Namjoon.”

His brows furrow, lips becoming lopsided. “You don’t slow me down.”

“How many times have you almost died trying to save me?! I-I can’t keep up.”

At once, Namjoon engulfs you with his arms. He holds you close, body flush against yours and you press your face into his broad shoulder, smothering your worries for a moment with his soothing comfort.

“I love you,” he sighs against your ear. “No matter what happens, I love you. There wouldn’t be a reason for me to keep living if you weren’t here, Y/N. I’m only trying this hard because you are. You’re my purpose now. You and this baby, if it’s real.”

Your fingers clutch onto his jacket, hanging onto your husband as your anchor. “Shut up,” you mumble against his clothes. “You know I hate it when you talk like this. Like you’re saying goodbye.”

Namjoon smiles faintly, remembering how you made him promise to never say goodbye. “Sorry.”

He lets you go and you turn into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are excruciating. Maybe you’re just impatient, but you’ve grown to hate waiting. But still, you wait by yourself while kneeling on the cold, tiled floors, staring at the stick you peed on.

It’s faint. And you pray your eyes are wrong. But as the minutes go by, it becomes stronger and stronger in colour.

You leave and Namjoon looks at you expectedly. 

“Well?”

You thrust the stick towards him. Two lines.

[yutahoes]

Play Pretend

pairing : co-worker! Yuta Nakamoto x Reader

summary : You need to go to your family on a holiday and Yuta has no where to go. Will your little pretend turn into something more?

genre : fluff

warning : mention of cigarette (please, it's bad for your health)

word count : 2.1k words

taglist : @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @cosmiclatte28 @2-3-t-i (If you want to be tagged, please let me know. 😁)

Lunar New Year. A holiday. But this isn't just a regular holiday. Since it is the start of the year in Asian culture, you have to go home to Jeollanam for a family gathering. You're too old for this. You only go to these gatherings when you are young because of the money. But now that you're a grown-up, this doesn't entice you at all.

Additional to your dilemma were your relatives who kept asking when you're getting married. You don't even have time to date because of your 8-5 office work. How do they expect that you to get married?

You listened to your mom's rambling on the phone, about the importance of family and why you should make it to the family gathering when the door opened, and out came one of your co-workers. Yuta lit a cigarette, even offering you one that made you shake your head. The distraction made you stir away from your mother's voice. "And I found you a date for Valentine's." Your eyes widened in surprise. Oh, it is Valentine's Day on Sunday. But what? She found what? “He’s a doctor in the clinic. Such a charmer, you’ll like him.”

You love your mom, you do. But her tastes in men are really out of this world. Besides, how many times had she been setting you up for a date? And none of it worked up well. “Mom, I have a boyfriend.” You lied through your teeth and you saw how the guy beside you scoffed. “I can’t go to Jeollanam and be back in Seoul on Sunday so I’ll skip this year, hmm?” You whined when she said no. “Eomma…” You called. “But I bought sexy lingerie for him.” Yuta chuckled.

“Yah!” Your mom shouted that startled you, almost dropping your phone. “Bring your boyfriend here in Jeollanam before you get naked for him.” And you swore even the person next room could hear her voice. She dropped the call before you could say anything.

Annoyed, you leaned on the railing of your office rooftop. You just dug a bigger hole for yourself. You need to go home and bring a boyfriend. Yuta laughed offering you the cigarette again before you took one and just placed it between your lips. You’re really not the smoking kind but it seemed tempting, like wanting to transfer your annoyance somewhere.  

"How sexy exactly is that lingerie?" You glared at him that made him chuckle. Yuta had been in your department for months now and you grew a little close to him since you're the same age. But this guy is trouble. A complete rebel who has the reputation of dating different girls weekly. "You should just go home since it's a long weekend."

You realized that unlike you who can only travel for 4 hours to see her family, he's pretty much lonely in Korea. "What are you going to do this holiday?" He answered that he'll probably just stay at home and watch movies all day since some establishments will be closed. "Netflix and chill?"

Yuta chuckled. "Just Netflix." You feigned a shock as he put the cigarette on the ashtray. "I do wish I can go to Osaka just this weekend." He might have missed his family. Working in a foreign land is honestly hard so you kind of understand why Yuta is like this.

You smiled, leaning your back on the railing as you put the unlighted cigarette on the ashtray. "I wish you could." You muttered under your breath. "Maybe I can come with you and escape my family." You said unconsciously that made him look at you.

A lightbulb pinged in your head. You cannot escape them yet you can still save face. "Yuta, do you want to come with me to Jeollanam?" You asked that made him raise an eyebrow at you. "It's harmless. You don't have anything to do tomorrow anyway." You explained. "Just pretend to be my boyfriend then we'll go back on Saturday and you'll have your date on Sunday." He laughed at that. "Help me, Yuta."

"You want to introduce me to your family as your boyfriend?"

"A pretend boyfriend." You corrected.

He stared at you for a while and you're suddenly scared that he might say no. "What if your family looks for me after this pretend date?"

You shook your head. "They wouldn't care."

"Okay. Sure." You were surprised. Did he say yes? "But you'll have to let me see that sexy lingerie." He teased you and made you punch his arm, laughing.

It's still early in the morning yet you're waiting for Yuta in front of the station to start the four-hour ride to Jeollanam. To your surprise, he looked different. Well, it's the first time you saw him outside of the office and just in his casual clothes. He does look handsome. No wonder girls fall for his charm. Evident was how a group of teenagers giggled at the sight of him. Such a player.

You walked to the train first but he took your lavender-colored backpack, slinging it on his shoulder. "What should I call you? Baby? Babe? Darling?" You rolled your eyes at that. You just wanted to sleep, not to be pissed off by Yuta. "Are you sleepy?" You nodded as you sat down on the assigned seat on the train. He guided your head to lay on his shoulder. "Just sleep, darling."

It was a long ride before, something you really hated. But now, you felt as if you were energized because of sleep. When you woke up, you were hugging Yuta's arm and he just chuckled when you sat up straight, avoiding his eyes. The moment the train stopped at your destination, he held your hand so as to not lose you in the crowd. There was a tingly feeling yet you just convinced yourself that Yuta is somewhat different from the office one.

When you reach your home, you give a heavy sigh. "Y/N!" Your mom called then stopped when she saw a certain man beside you. "Yah, Y/N brought a man home." She shouted that made Yuta snicker.

Your family loved Yuta. They had endless questions about him being Japanese and his hobbies. When your dad found out that he likes to hike, he invited him to hike the Jirisan mountain that startled you. He never invited you to hike with him. What's with this sudden bonding?

Other relatives were welcoming to him and he even helped your cousins make dumplings. "Hyung, what do you like about noona?" One of your cousins asked which made you look at him in surprise. What the hell is that question? Why are they embarrassing you like this?

Before you can scold the younger one, Yuta smiled. "Your noona works well and she's pretty." He then looked at you, winking. God, Yuta is so handsome. "Can you pass me the pepper, love?" You only stared at him. What did he just call you? "Love, hey." He called waving a hand in front of you. "Are you alright?"

"Noona, your face is red."

"Do you want to go inside?" One of your aunts asked but you just shook your head. You took the pepper then handed it to Yuta who just gave you a smile. That really enchanting smile. No, it can't be. You shouldn't think too much of that smile.

Even at dinner, the topic on the table is you and Yuta that made you annoyed. They're enjoying this so much. "Yuta, you can sleep in Y/N's room." Your mom claimed that made you choke on the water you were drinking. What? "Why? Didn't you wear that sexy lingerie for him?"

Yuta had to smirk then turned to you. "Did you, love?" And oh my god, he's also enjoying this.

It's not the first time that you're sharing a room with a guy, especially a bed. But you were so nervous when Yuta slipped on the bed next to you. He was chuckling at your embarrassed face that you hit him with your pillow. "We'll go back to Seoul first thing in the morning."

"We can't." He revolted. "I promised abeoji that we're hiking tomorrow morning." Abeoji? He called your dad abeoji? "You know, your family isn't bad. I feel bad that we had to pretend like this." You nodded then pursed your lips. You just lay down on the bed, turning to the side to not face him then covered your body with a blanket. Why is it so cold?

You felt warm when he suddenly hugged you from behind that surprised the hell out of you. "I feel like your mom is just going to peek on the door. Just let me hug you to sleep." He whispered against your ear that sent shivers down your spine. You could hear your heart drumming hard against your chest and you hold your breath, scared that he may hear it. "Love, just go to sleep."

It was the first time that you cannot sleep properly in this place. The room which you had since young and that is all because of Yuta's warmth. You were even awake when his alarm rang so early. "Did I wake you up?" He asked in a sleepy voice then grinned at you. "I'll just prepare for hiking. Go back to sleep." You didn't know if it was a dream but you felt him kiss your forehead.

It was almost 9 in the morning when you went down to eat. Your aunts were giving you side glances even teasing about you and Yuta hugging while sleeping. He is right, they came in to check on you. "He's such a dream, Y/N." One even noted.

He is, isn't he? He's so gentle, so warm. You smiled to yourself. It isn't bad that you brought Yuta here. You just found out a new side of him that is truly endearing.

When they returned from their hike, it was almost afternoon. You can now go back to Seoul but Yuta was the one who begged you to stay for one more night since his body is sore from hiking. To your surprise, your dad told him that they should hike another mountain next time and Yuta agreed. There is a next time? You raised an eyebrow at him when he started carrying your younger cousin on his back. You should have been back to Seoul.

You were quiet the whole time that you said goodbye to your family and Yuta understood that you might have missed them already. But it's not. It's just that Yuta is shaking you that you don't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your family loved him. They'll hate you if you come back next Lunar New Year without Yuta, worse with another guy. And you're annoyed at Yuta who promised your family that he'll come to visit some other time.

Going back to Seoul is an eye-opener. You are not Yuta's girlfriend. This is just a pretense. And your lives are coming back in order once you reach the Seoul Station. You were walking so slow that he had to hold your hand again just to get you out of the train in time. You wanted time to stop. You wanted to stay in Jeollanam for another day and be Yuta's pretend girlfriend.

"Thank you for inviting me to come with you." He said that made you stare at him, nodding. "Your family is really great, Y/N."

You smiled. That's such a compliment. "Yeah, they really like you." You whispered and he smiled. The silence stretched between the two of you, hoping that time could rewind. You hope it's Lunar New Year again. How could you like the holiday that you despised earlier this week?

"Oh." You remembered, seeing the bright red balloons scattered outside the station. It's Valentine's Day. You took something from your bag and handed it to Yuta. "We made that yesterday so I don't know how it would taste." You claimed eyeing the small box of hand-made chocolate.

Yuta chuckled. "You know, in Japan, giving chocolates to a guy is a sign of confession." You glared at him, taking back the chocolate but he just chuckled while shaking his head. "I'll do better on White Day."

"Don't be bothered, it's not…"

"I do hope it is." He stepped forward that you had to step back but he held your waist to pull you closer. "Shall we make this real, Y/N?" You gulp at the question, scared that this might be Yuta teasing you again.

But he smiled which made you weak on your knees. You nodded and his smile grew wider. You felt your breath hitch against your throat. He's handsome. "Dating on Valentine's Day is so cliché." He claimed taking your hand. "Let's just Netflix and Chill." You laughed. Suddenly excited for this real, budding relationship.

Happy Lunar New Year! 🎉🎉

[secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer]

Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.  

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.  

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff. 

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with. 

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction. 

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could. 

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw. 

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry. 

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

~

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working. 

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F. 

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

  She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators. 

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call. 

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it. 

 Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to. 

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories. 

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

~

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Under My Skin: Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Word count = 4,6 k

Chapter Warnings = swearing, canon-typical violence, bad writing

Summary = You hate Poe Dameron. Simple, right?

Edit = Cross posted to AO3

Part 1 of 4 (I think)

Poe Dameron didn’t like you and you didn’t like Poe Dameron.

“Because!” You grouse to Rose as you make your way to the cantina, “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, no one could ever come close to his skills, and he always gets the best missions, and he’s good, but he’s not that good, he acts like he’s god's gift to women - no scratch that - to the galaxy, and he’s so arrogant!” You’re growling in frustration as you round the corner, suddenly lowering your voice as much as you can because Dameron is right there at the end of the corridor, deep in discussion with General Organa and Finn.

Rose’s only response is to whack you over the head as she walks through the swinging doors in the centre of the corridor. You’ve never been so glad you don’t have to walk past Dameron in your life. “What was that about?” You hiss as you catch up with Rose, grabbing your own tray and helping yourself to dinner. “You didn’t have to hit me in front of General Organa.” Rose snorts. “Yeah the General was the one you were worried about.”

Trays full, the two of you spot an empty booth and hurry towards it, sitting opposite each other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t shut up about Poe.” She jabs her fork at you, causing bits of potato to fall to the table. You can only gape, words escaping you momentarily.

Momentarily.

“What! I won’t - Dameron - he - he and I - urgh! - never in my life - he’s annoying!” You settle on finally, fully aware that you’re now whining. “He frustrates me!”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Well maybe you need to work out those frustrations.” You shake your head, deciding to ignore her for now as you concentrate on eating. “You do need to get laid.”

You yelp, coughing when you try to swallow too quickly in shock. And then- “I can help with that, sweetheart.” You whip round, eyes narrowing when Dameron’s behind you, his flight suit tied around his waist, exposing his dirty vest and irritatingly strong arms. The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Finn - you can no longer count the amount of times he’s beaten you.

You take another scoop of dinner before talking with a full mouth. “Ok, one, I’m not your sweetheart, and two, Rose is wrong, and even if she was right, I definitely don’t need your help with-” you pause, swallow, and gesture vaguely in his general direction. “That.”

This, annoyingly, only seems to make him grin more. “That? You’re not gonna call it what it is?” You lean back, pulling your most unimpressed look onto your face, as he continues, still smirking, even having the audacity to wink at you. “Hot, animal sex.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, turning back to your dinner. “Whatever you say, Dameron.”

“Does it make you feel better, being mean to me?” Dameron asks as he squeezes onto the small piece of bench next to you. You huff, moving up so that you’re not touching. You don’t like him, but you’re not rude. 

Ignoring his question, you deflect. “Where’s Finn? Don’t you want to sit with him?” It takes more effort than it should to sound like you’re asking out of interest, and not because you want him to go away. Which you do.

“He’s still talking to Leia.” Your eyes flick to Rose, and she knows what you’re thinking. You twist your body to face Dameron, bringing a leg up under you. “Is this about the mission?” Her voice is low as she leans across the table, forgetting about the rest of her dinner.

The last few days have been hell. Rumours have been flying around base, centered around a box full of Jedi crystals. Kyber crystals, you’d told Rose the other day, not that the name cleared anything up. You’d poked around the base’s library on your datapad when you had the odd chance, but the Jedi were now the stuff of legend, just stories told to children about ‘the good old days’.  

The rumours made things worse - you’re not sure how much of it to believe - there were so few people who were even Force sensitive but as far as you were aware there were no Jedi left. Luke Skywalker was lost, and therefore probably dead. And even if Jedi did still exist, weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Why hadn’t they come to help fight along with the Resistance?

But Dameron decides to play dumb. “What mission?” His eyes are too wide to be innocent and it annoys you. “Finn’s talking to Leia about…” he pauses, eyes desperately searching the cantina as he tries to think of a good excuse. “The quality of the food!” Turning to you, his eyes are intense. “I know you want more chocolate pudding.” You ignore how he knows that, instead focusing on glaring at him. “Dameron do you think I’m a good pilot?”

“Look,” he turns to face you, ignoring his own food even as you continue to eat, “it’s nothing to do with your skills as a pilot.” He pauses, but you interrupt before he can give you some empty platitude. “I think it is - otherwise why am I not being included?”

“Hey, will you listen,” he turns to you, poking his finger at you for emphasis. “This mission is top-secret and the risk of the First Order finding out is high so-” This time you properly interrupt, flicking his finger out of your personal space.

“So you just decide to talk about it in the corridor by the busy cantina, where everyone and their mother will see you?”

This shuts him up.

The two of you are looking into each other's faces, inches apart. And it’s annoying because Dameron is unfortunately handsome. Why? Why is he of all people so good looking? Rose coughs obnoxiously loud, causing the two of you to break eye contact and turn to look at her. You lean back from him, trying your best to look thoroughly unimpressed as he stands, picking up his tray and when he speaks, huffing, his voice is sharper than it was before.

“Look, I only came over to say that we’re going to have a mission briefing tomorrow at 6. Ok? So, just-” He leaves, mumbling the rest of the sentence under his breath as he walks across the cantina towards Rey, leaving you with your mouth hanging open, looking and feeling like an idiot.

“Well,” you say as you turn back to Rose. “That’s why I hate him.”

“You’ve got a mission, aren’t you pleased about that?” You can tell you’re annoying her now, but you roll your eyes. “Yeah, with Dameron. He’s just going to be hanging over my shoulder and passing judgement whenever he can. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Every time you came back from a mission Dameron was there. Always. Just waiting to tell you what you should have done, how you should have flown, how he would have done it. As though the only reason he hadn’t done it was because he was too important.

You knew you didn’t fly how most people did, it had cost you marks in your final exams at school, and it cost you a place in a higher squadron, but it was hard to find the will to change when the poster boy for the Resistance saw nothing but incompetence when he looked at you. Bastard, you couldn’t help but think as you stabbed the last of your greens, wishing it was his face.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The mission had been going so well. You’d dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere, bypassing the planet’s security, got inside the compound, obtained the uber-secret box (your briefing hadn’t quite covered what was inside, annoyingly) and you’d been about to sneak out when you’d decided a bit more snooping was necessary.

The box had been in the centre of a library/museum set-up and even you could tell that these were rare books. So you’d told Dameron to inspect the objects while you scanned the books, pulling out a few that caught your eye.

The first warning you had been given was a blaster grazing your arm, causing you to yelp in pain, dropping the books and duck to the floor as another shot had ripped through the shelves - an inch or two above where your head had been. So a crap shot then.

Paper had fluttered down around you as you looked for Dameron. The shelves would provide good cover but unfortunately it also meant you couldn’t see your shooter. Pulling your blaster out from its holder, you aimed a couple of returning shots into the darkness at the edges of the room as you looked for Dameron.

You found him near the exit, standing over a number of droids. He’d been holding the box with one arm, the other bleeding heavily, but you’d managed to escape, tangling with another droid who’d punched you as you left the way you came, avoiding the crap shooter on your way out. You didn’t want the First Order to know who’d been there.

So now you and Dameron were walking back to the ship, cutting through undergrowth as you desperately tried to remember the way, face throbbing in pain. Dameron had fallen quiet very quickly, and you were alarmed to see how much blood he had lost so far. His face was pale and all you could think was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t’ve tried to poke around and look for other useful bits and pieces, you would have got out with no trouble.

Oh shit.

You were definitely lost now. You’d taken a gamble on the last turn and this was wrong. There should be a stream somewhere to your left which led back to the ship. Where was it? This was so wrong. And how were you going to admit this to Dameron? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Dameron’s voice wasn’t right. He’d lost a lot of his power, and you turned to face him, watching as a small drop of blood fell to the floor. You don’t want to say it, you know he’s going to hold this over your head later, your first truly important mission and you’ve fucked up so bad. “I -” you hesitate, mouth open, so unwilling to say it, especially to Poe, you have to force it out. “We’re lost...I don’t know the way back.”

And...oh god, you’re not going to start crying are you? You can feel the familiar burn on the back of your eyes so you blink, looking away from him. But Dameron starts struggling, using his injured arm to try and reach down, looking for something. You move closer, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop moving, to stop aggravating his injury. “What are you doing?” And your voice is mean and you don’t know why but his skin is cool, cooler than it should be causing your heart to skitter out of control.

Dameron looks up into your face and his eyes are a little unfocused. Shit. “Looking for a tracker - the ship -” His voice doesn’t sound normal. But you have to be the calm one, you have to be the one in charge so you push the panic down, trying to speak normally. “Where is it? You shouldn’t be using that arm.”

“In my pocket, I -” But you’re one step ahead, unceremoniously dropping his wrist and reaching in, pulling the tracker out. A thin disc with a central button, which you press, and a red light spins around the edge before settling a direction to your left, forcing you to turn about 45 degrees.

You set off, pushing through the undergrowth and snapping branches from trees, kicking any debris out of Poe’s path as he stumbles behind you. Panic is still rising in you, you can’t be the reason the Resistance’s best pilot dies. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckin’ motherfucker, please, please, plea-

You pause for a second, trying to get your breathing back under control, even as it skitters away from you. You glance back at Poe, who nods at you.

BB-8 is waiting back at the ship, preliminary checks before take-off having been completed. You help Poe lift into the co-pilot’s chair you’d been occupying earlier and squeezing into the pilot’s chair. You don’t remember the flight back, don’t remember dodging the planet’s security as you took off, all you remember is how pale and quiet Poe is. He watches you the whole way which would normally annoy you, but you don’t think his eyes are fully focused.

You’ve done better landings when you get back to the base, but you don’t really care, Poe’s breathing is different, you can’t stop the panic rising in you, and the second you’ve opened the door you’re yelling, voice already hoarse. “Medic! Medic! I need - I need a medic!” People swirl around you, when did they get here? But you don’t want to let go of Poe, one arm around his back, his uninjured one around your neck while you keep a tight hold of the box.

You fight as someone tries to unfurl your fingers, Poe’s weight disappearing and you’re crying now, hardly able to open your eyes. You don’t feel the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, instead blindly fighting the rising darkness inside you, unable to recognise it for what it is. Voices are all around you, muffled like you’re underwater and lights are appearing in bright spots above your head. You’re floating, falling backwards, further and further, until everything turns black.

***

The debrief was not fun.

Barely out of the medbay, you’d relayed to General Organa what had happened, how it had been your idea to stay back, how you’d got lost in the forest after, how you made a mess.

Due to your injuries, it had been just you and her, and even now, safely in your bunk, you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than having to tell a whole command room. Sure, you’d been spared public humiliation, but at the cost of having General Organa’s full attention on your failure.

You’d pulled your curtain across your bunk, and you felt as though you might have to stay buried under your covers for at least a week to emotionally recover from the whole ordeal. The worst part of it was that General Organa hadn’t even seemed disappointed, or angry, just...like she expected it.

And Dameron was still in the medbay. It was coming up to 4 days later, but you’d maintained your distance, not sure your fragile heart could stand the pain of knowing his condition was your fault, no matter what anyone said.

You wanted to see him, to apologise, but at the same time the idea of facing him made you feel sick. It was your fault he was in the medbay, you should have prevented it. In fact, the only reason you even knew he was still in the medbay was because you assumed there would be some kind of announcement or celebration when he was better.

A knock on your door made you jump, and then frown, however the door began to open before you could respond which you supposed was kind of your fault, you should have locked it, now you were going to have to talk to someone-

And General Organa walks into the room.

You stand up so fast, you get a rush of blood to the head, your vision going black slightly at the edges. “General, I-” you start talking before you even know what you’re going to say, so shocked to see your hero in your room. Your eyes flick over to the mess of clothes you haven’t bothered to wash in the last week, tissues on the floor, half eaten snack bars and their wrappers littered around as you wished the room was a lot tidier.

“I wanted to check how you were getting on.” Her voice is soft, but still carries that familiar authority as she pulls out the chair from your desk and sits on it.

Your mind goes blank. General Organa...wanted to check...on you?

You manage to pull yourself together, sitting back down on your bed with a suddenly excellent posture. “Good, thank you General.” You can hardly look at her, it’s like she emits light, and it’s too bright, too much.

You’re hyper-aware of your every movement, this is the first time you’ve properly talked to her, you want her to like you, and oh my god she’s in your room? Her eyes never leave you, so you stare at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “Call me Leia.” She pauses, but it’s not enough time for the implications of that to sink in. “It’s understandable if you’re still feeling rough.” Oh stars you’re going to cry.

Your eyes are watery and you know looking down only increases the chances of them falling, but if you look up, she’ll see. “I wish I’d done things differently.” You say, and your voice sounds rough.

The room is swimming when you finally look up, but General Orga - Leia is smiling softly at you. “I think about every second of that mission and for every decision that I made, I wish, I wish I did the opposite thing.”

“Why?” The question is asked so simply, and there are so many answers, they crowd your mind. “You were successful, weren’t you?” Still you can only gape at her. Successful? Dameron is still in the medbay-

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for a mission going sideways.” Leia continues, “But you retrieved the box, you’re both alive, Poe is healing well, the medics say the bleeding has stopped and his stomach is on the mend now.” His stomach? You frown, his stomach wasn’t injured, it was just his shoulder, but Leia mistakes your frown for further dissent.

“I know you think it was your fault because you said let’s stay behind, but what if you had found something important? And Poe agreed, didn’t he? It’s not just on you. You just have to learn when the risk is worth the reward.” With that, she stands, so you do too. “I’ll formally debrief the two of you together when Poe’s out of the medbay, but I thought you needed to know this.” You nod, unable to speak again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It’s almost too late before you can speak again, Leia halfway out of the door, but she turns back when she hears your voice. “Thank you.” And you mean it. Leia didn’t say much, and nothing new, but she was right. The mission was technically a success. Things went wrong, but you were both alive.

Sitting back on your bed, you feel lighter, more like normal. And a part of that normality is annoyance towards a certain pilot. He was injured in his stomach? The more you think about it, the more a cold fury rises in you. Why wouldn’t he say? He was carrying that heavy box and - you let out a growl, surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

You make your way to the medbay, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. No wonder he had so much blood loss! How dare he not say anything! How could he not tell you? Did he not trust you?

You ignore the signs that tell you visiting hours are over, and maybe it’s the look in your eyes that stops any medics from reminding you as such when you march up to the front desk. “I need to see Poe Dameron, which room is he in?” You feel a tiny bit bad for being so demanding to an overworked medic, but you can’t think past how Poe Dameron lied to you.

You’re shaking as you walk to Dameron’s room, not bothering with pleasantries as you bang open the door. He’s lying in the bed, BB-8 charging in the corner and had you been calmer you would have noticed how Dameron jerked awake when you slammed his door shut. You ignore how he’s hooked up to various machines and drips, bandages covering his body.

“You were shot in the stomach?” Your voice is mean again.

Dameron just blinks groggily at you, a combination of drugs and tiredness, but you push down any pity, letting righteous anger flood your veins with fire. “What?” His voice is hoarse from misuse and sleep.

“You were shot in the stomach?” You repeat, keeping hold of that cold fury as you look down at his face. This extra minute is all Dameron needs to wake up properly and realise why you’re so upset. “No- just, just stabbed.”

“Just!” - and it’s like you’re watching yourself, no control over your actions and even to your own ears you sound hysterical, the volume of your voice rising.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You demand as he presses a button, lifting the top half of his bed up. Tears are once again pricking your eyes, but this time you will not be crying, so you wipe them away quickly, past caring.

“Because,” Dameron huffs, realising that's not a full sentence. “I don’t know - you...you had enough on your plate, I didn’t want to add to it.”

“You should have told me.” Your voice is dangerous now, your whole body thrumming with an unshakeable anger, even as you stand completely still. A strong undercurrent continues to carry you onwards in the conversation, and you know you’ll need to leave before it runs out. “You carried that box for fuck knows how long, and what? You were just hiding your injury? You just wanted to be a hero, or embarrass me?”

Dameron stays silent, glare heavy in his eyebrows. It’s too much, you want, you need answers.

“ANSWER ME!” You roar, lashing out in defence.

“I had to!” He’s shouting now too, pushing against the bed with his strong arm. “It was hard enough to snap you out of it when we were in the compound - I wasn’t going to add to it - I had to know you could fly us home!”

His words are like they punched you, a heavy exhalation, and it’s as though all the anger was tightly held in your lungs. “I flew us home.” Your voice sounds small as you take a step back. Dameron’s found the one chink in your armour again, just like he did when you first met, the one weak spot of your insecurity and smashed it to smithereens.

There’s silence in the medbay, pushing against your eardrums as though to emphasise just how the loud the two of you were. There’s a brief flicker of curiosity in the back of mind, wondering why the nurses haven’t intervened yet.

You can’t look at Dameron anymore, instead taking in the number of different machines he’s hooked up to, watching the drips, how his heart rate starts to lower as he forces himself to calm down. “So you didn’t trust me?” You don’t want the answer, but you can’t stop the words.

He takes his time answering again, but you still don’t look at him, hands playing behind your back with the hem of your jumper. “If you don’t trust me - you should have asked Leia to switch me out!” Shut up, shut up, shut up, why can’t you stop talking, you stupid-

“Maybe I should’ve!” His voice doesn’t change, there’s no difference in his heart beat, although it’s on the high side of normal, matching yours, but something changed. There’s a split in the room, a chasm separating the two of you that wasn’t there before.

“Well why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt sorry for you!” Your eyes snap up, looking at his face in terror. “I wanted to give you a chance! I didn’t think you’d fuck up like that.” If Dameron’s earlier words were a punch to your gut, these sent you sprawling. Short of an atomic blast inside you, any feeling left inside you was obliterated. Hot embarrassment crawls up your arms and you want Dameron to feel the same pain.

“Fuck you.”

The words hang there, each second an eon. Poe instantly regrets his words, knowing he’s gone too far. He opens his mouth to apologise, but the words don’t come.

Neither of you say anything, glares still spitting red-hot fire, when you suddenly want to leave. You don’t want to see Dameron’s face again, not for a long time. So you clench your jaw, throwing up your middle finger and slamming the door behind you.

***

Isolating yourself doesn’t seem quite so appealing once you’ve left the medbay, so instead you make your way to Rose’s room, grabbing a bottle of firewater from the cantina as you pass. You need a drink.

When you arrive, you’re not sure you want to talk about the recent shitstorm your life has recently become so the first words out of your mouth when Rose opens the door is- “Do you like Jannah?”

It’s a little mean of a conversation to spring on your friend, but you’re a lot of things, and blind is not one of them. You’ve seen how the two mechanics look at each other. Especially when they think the other won’t see. Holding up the bottle as a peace offering, Rose smirks at you before leaving her door open as an invitation.

Rose denies having a crush on Jannah as you work through the bottle, only conceding on the point that Jannah is very pretty. You’re probably a little too quick to agree, blaming it on the drink that’s currently making you feel like you’re floating a couple of inches above the ground.

Comfortable silence falls on the two of you as you sit there, the floor a little cold under you, leaning against Rose’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking-” Rose starts but you interrupt before she can get any further.

“Dangerous.”

Rose doesn’t dignify this with a response, instead waiting until you wave a hand at her to continue.

“We’ve got a coordinating day off next cycle, if you wanna go to Sanctuary III. They’ll have a festival then, I can’t remember which but it should be good fun.” You can tell she’s keen, so you’ll go with her, but you find it hard to inject any enthusiasm into your voice.

Rose picks up on this, sighing as she refills her glass. “Alright don’t seem too keen on the idea.”

Your shrug, not really wanting to talk about the real reason you can’t find any excitement. “Sorry. I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is gentle, and her hand is on your arm, and it’s so reassuring, so warm, your skin sings under her palm.

You talk to your feet as you tell Rose what Dameron said. “-and he - it was horrible, Rose,” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes again. “And I - we’ve never got on, he’s, y’know, annoying, we’re always bickering, but I just - I never thought that he actually - it’s my fault he’s injured, and maybe he does hate me and-”

You stop your tirade and for the first time, just let yourself cry and breathe for a second. Rose’s arm comes around your shoulder and you lean into it, slightly. “It’s fine - I mean I never liked him anyway, now I can just move straight into the dislike section, maybe even hate I dunno.”

“Ok you should know that that’s not healthy first of all.” Rose’s voice floats out from above your head. “Second, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and anyway, who cares what he thinks? Leia thought you did well. And third, this is all the more reason to do something on our day off!”

You give a weak chuckle and nod. You spent the rest of the night, playing cards and chatting about lighter topics until both of your eyes start to burn and you make your way to bed.  

***

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Chapter 2

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Types of kisses with Yoongi

First kiss

Yoongi loved that on your dates with him you were okay just staying in, watching movies, or having him cook for you. He was a homebody and preferred to stay home where you two could speak freely and enjoy each other’s company without the fear of him being recognized and the two of you getting mobbed. Today he had invited you to his studio to listen to a preview of a new song for his mixtape. You were honored. You knew how special this place was to him and the fact that he trusted you enough to not only bring you here, but also let you hear a new song? You knew that day that he must be serious about you and it filled your heart with warmth.

You knocked on his door and he answered almost immediately, almost as if he was waiting for you. 

“Were you waiting for me Min Yoongi?” You tease him and he blushes and scratches the back of his head. 

“Um, maybe. I’m just really happy to see you.” He reaches his hand out and holds yours tightly and you squeeze it back. He leads you in to sit on the chair next to his own. “I ordered a pizza for us it should be here soon. I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s more than okay with me! Thank you, Yoongi.” You smile at him and he offers a small smile back. 

“Of course. That’s one of the things I really like about you is that you’re just so... agreeable. I love that from day 1 you were just okay having dates in and not needing to go anywhere fancy.”

“Of course not. You don’t need to impress me, Yoongi. I just like being with you.” Your smile grows as does his and you see him glancing at your lips. He moves in as if he’s going to kiss you before his phone rings from the delivery person notifying him of their arrival. He nearly jumps away from you, face bright red as he gets up to get the food for you two. When he comes back he sets it down on the desk. 

“Well, you ready to listen to it?”

“I’d love to!” You listen to the song and immediately feel a whole slew of emotions hitting you. Sadness, initially, but then the melody moves to sound more hopeful. And like better days are coming. Even without lyrics, Yoongi somehow manages to portray the emotions of his song through the instruments alone. The song ends and you sit there for a few moment absorbing everything, He gets a little nervous thinking maybe you didn’t like it. He knew something was missing, and was hoping a fresh set of ears would help him know what was missing. 

“So what do you think?”

“It’s amazing. Really I don’t even know what to say. You can really feel the emotions you are trying to show in the song and you can tell that you put your whole heart into it.”

“You don’t think there’s anything... missing? When I listen to it I think it just sounds off but I don’t know what it could be.” That surprises you. The fact that Yoongi genuinely wants your opinion and help when you have no idea about producing music. 

“You want my input?”

“Yes. You’re really smart and I trust your judgment.” You feel your cheeks heating up and you ask him to play it again. You really listen this time and think you have an idea. 

“Why don’t you add some piano here?”

“The middle bit here?”

“Yeah! Maybe like...” You hum a little part of a melody that seemed to get stuck in your head after listening to the song. 

“Oh that actually is a great idea.” Yoongi pulls out his keyboard and plays the notes before adding it into the song. You watch him mixing and just can’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He’s so focused on his music, and so excited and passionate about it and you can’t help but hold so much admiration and respect in your heart for him. So you take a leap and lean in and kiss his cheek. Yoongi freezes, hand hovering over the keyboard as he turns to look at you. His face is bright red. 

“Y-you just kissed me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you looked adorable and you’re really passionate about your music and I just got an overwhelming urge to kiss you.”

“Do it again. But properly this time.” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and brings you back in to plant a kiss on your lips. It’s over all too soon for your liking and you chase after his lips for another one. He playfully taps your lips with his finger. “We have plenty of time for that sweetheart, let’s not rush it okay? I want to take my time with you because I really like you. And to be honest this is all really new to me. I’ve never developed strong feelings for someone as quickly as I have for you and it scares me a little.” You kiss his cheek again instead. 

“Okay, Yoongi. We’ll go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” 

“Thank you, angel.” 

Lazy kisses

“Baby come on, you gotta get up! You’ve hit the snooze button 3 times and if I have to hear that god awful alarm you have one more time I am personally yanking you out of this bed.” Yoongi scolds. You groan loudly and turn your alarm off, but your eyes flutter closed again.  “That’s it.” You feel a finger dig into your ribs and you yelp loudly and squirm away from him. 

“Okay okay! I’ll get up...eventually.” You roll over onto your back and feel your eyes start to droop closed again. You are almost back in dream land when you feel your boyfriend’s lips on your own. Well that definitely wakes you up. You let your lips move slowly against his. You’ll never get tired of his kisses. You completely melt and soon Yoongi pulls away and practically collapses on top of you. 

“I changed my mind you’re staying home today.” 

“Yoongi I have to go to work.”

“I mean... you’re already going to be late can’t you just call off? Tell them you had car trouble?”

“I can’t lie to my boss!” 

“Then I will for you.”

“Yoongi don’t-” But before you can stop him he has your phone out and is calling your boss. You can hear the conversation as he has it on speaker. 

“Y/n! It’s almost time for you to be here is everything okay?”

“Ah this is Mister Min, from Min’s auto repair shop. Y/n’s car broke down on the way to work and we’re currently doing repairs. It could take a while so I don’t know that they’ll be able to make it in. They asked me to call you because they were afraid you wouldn’t believe them.”

“Oh goodness of course I would believe y/n! They’re one of my best employees. Tell y/n not to worry about it and just come in tomorrow! It’s no trouble.”

“Alright. Thank you ma’am.” He hangs up the phone and you immediately burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe that worked!”

“I can’t believe it did either to be honest. But I am glad it did because now I can spend the whole day with you.” You smile and lay on your side to face him. Yoongi places his hand on your hip and scoots closer to you, connecting your lips again. He kisses you deeply, letting his lips linger there for a few moments before he pulls away.

“I could spend all day kissing you.”

“Well now you can. You got me for the whole day.” You say with a smile. Yoongi places a peck on your lips. 

“Best day.”

Heated kisses

“Yoongi? Can you come here for a minute please? I need your opinion on something.”

“Sure thing, angel!”

The both of you had went shopping and you wanted Yoongi’s opinion on a pair of jeans you were trying on. Were you purposefully trying to tease him? Absolutely. You knew your butt looked amazing in them and you wanted to see his reaction. He knocks on the fitting room door and you open it, turning around and looking over your shoulder.

“So what do you think? Should I get the-” Before you can finish your sentence his hands are on your shoulders spinning you around and a firm kiss is placed on your lips. His lips moves against your own as he backs you further into the fitting room. He keeps walking until your back is against the mirror. You let out a gasp at the cold feeling of it against your arms and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and intertwine yours with his. His hands move to slip under your shirt and rest at your hips while yours immediately go to his hair and give a light tug, knowing that it drives him crazy in the best way. You feel his breath coming in quick pants as he moves from your mouth to ghost his lips down your neck before stopping at your collarbones. He bites it harshly and you know there’s going to be a mark there. Not that you mind. You love showing off the little bite marks he leaves on you.

He pulls away with a satisfied smirk on his face before diving back in to capture your lips again. You’re trying your best to be quiet so you don’t get caught but when he grinds his hips against yours a breathy moan escapes. He immediately pulls away. His hair is a mess from where you fingers were pulling at it, his lips are red and swollen and you’re certain you must be in the same condition. He offers you a small smile before reaching out and smoothing out your hair and straightening your shirt. 

“Um... Sorry I kind of got a little carried away. I’ve been wanting to do that all day because you always look so sexy and beautiful but something about those pants just... yeah.” He’s blushing and unable to meet your gaze now and you can’t help but giggle.

“Feel free to get carried away whenever you want Yoongi if you’re going to kiss me like that. And I am definitely buying the pants.”

Sweet kisses

You two were laying in bed together watching a movie. But you didn’t notice Yoongi wasn’t watching the movie at all, his attention was fully on you. Every little facial expression, every time you smiled or laughed, he felt his heart flutter. You two had been together for a year now and still he got butterflies like the very first time he met you. He moves his hand across the bed and laces your fingers together. You finally turn to him and notice him staring at you with the fondest expression. 

“Everything okay?”

You always asked him that. Always checking in just to let him know that you were always there for him and just wanted him to be happy. He appreciated it more than you know. He smilies to help calm your nerves. 

“Yes everything is fine, my love. It’s just... you’re beautiful you know that?” 

He’s told you this before but something feels different this time and it makes your cheeks flush. 

“I think I’ve been told that a time or two.” 

“Just by me though right?” A few chuckles escape you. 

“Yes, Yoongi only by you. Well, only by you in a romantic way at least. The other members have too but you know they don’t mean anything by it.”

“Good. As they should tell you. Still can’t believe the most beautiful person in the world is actually mine.” 

“Mmm I think you’re mistaking that’s you. And I won’t take any arguments for an answer.” He opens his mouth to protest but you quickly lean in and press a kiss to his lips instead. He immediately forgets what he was going to say as his mind and senses are suddenly filled with you. He pulls away to pepper kisses all over your cheeks, to your forehead, your eye lids, and tip of your nose and finally ending up at your lips again. He lingers there for a moment before he mumbles against your lips. 

“Marry me.” You place your hands on his cheeks to pull his face away from you. You look into his eyes to see if he’s serious and he is. 

“Are you for real? You really want to marry me?”

“Yes. I am being serious. Of course I want to marry you. I don’t want a big wedding with a ton of people there. I just want it to be me and you. We can have a ceremony later and invite all our friends and family but... for right now I don’t want to wait. I want you to be Min Y/n and I want to start our life together.”  You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You don’t trust yourself to speak without bursting into tears so you just nod. The smile that you see on Yoongi’s face is what breaks you and finally allows a few tears to escape. He looks the happiest you’ve ever seen him, and knowing that just the thought of spending the rest of his life with you making him that happy makes you feel so many positive emotions at once they leak out in the form of tears. Yoongi is quick to kiss them all away, kissing your cheeks whenever one falls down your face until you’re smiling again. 

“Okay. Let’s do it then. I don’t want to wait either. I already know I want to spend my forever with you.”

Wedding kiss

True to his word, a few days later here you were. Standing with Yoongi at the park where you two first met. It was night time, Yoongi had always said he wanted to marry you under the stars because he thought you looked beautiful and absolutely ethereal bathed in moonlight. He knew someone that was licensed to marry so after everything was in order you two immediately planned the day you would go. It was quite late, not a single soul was there and it felt like you three were the only people left in the world. You both didn’t dress up, wearing jeans and the comfiest sweaters you owned. Yoongi had insisted you wear his jacket because it was getting chilly outside. He was even wearing a beanie and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. He raises his eyebrow at you in question.

“It’s just... all of this is so very you. Very us. Eloping and getting married under the stars, no fancy clothes or rings. Just the two of us and our love for each other and the world at our feet.” Yoongi smiles at that and leans in to kiss you but the minister scolds him. 

“No kissing until the vows!” You both look away sheepishly and giggle under your breaths. 

“Alright I guess I’ll start then.” Yoongi says. “I write lyrics for a living and here I am at a loss for words and have no idea what to say. I’m just so happy that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Like holy shit how did I manage to pull that one off. You’re perfect in every way and so so good to me. You stuck by me through all the bad times, and I know there were some really bad ones. But you never lost your temper with me, you were always patient and kind and supportive through everything so I guess just... thank you. Really. And I just love you. That’s really all there is to say.” You hear the nervousness but also the sincerity in his words so you give his hands a squeeze to help comfort him. “Um.. I know I didn’t bring a ring because this was all kind of fast but I am getting one for you. It’s just going to take a little while because I want it to be perfect but hopefully this will do for now.” He bends down and picks a small purple flower off the ground. The weather had only just started to get colder so some of the flowers were still blooming. He loops the stem around your finger and ties it together. It’s such a sweet thing for him to do and you can’t help but place a kiss on the back of his hand before saying your vows.

“Yoongi you’ve always known I’ve never needed grand gestures to show your love, or songs written about me although the ones you did write I absolutely adore and will cherish forever. I can see you love me in the way you look at me, in the way you take care of me and always make sure I am happy. When you tell me you love me, I hear the sincerity in your voice. And I can only hope in the time we’ve been together that I was able to give you just as much love to you as you’ve made me feel. And you’re right. The only thing really to say is that I love you.”

The minster claps his hand together. “Perfect! I now pronounce you both officially married. Go ahead and kiss y/n, Yoongi. And congratulations to the both of you.”

Yoongi wastes no time in tugging you towards him and finally connecting your lips. His hands cup your face and he kisses you so tenderly and gently, almost as if he’s afraid you’re going to break. You two stay like that for quite some time, although when he pulls away it still doesn’t feel like long enough. 

“Holy shit we’re married.” He says with wide eye and surprise on his face. You giggle at his bewildered expression. 

“Yes we are.”

“I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, Yoongi.” 

[m0srael]

The Fourth King

2k | T Rating | Implied death

This is the second in what will be an ongoing series about H&D as stage magicians, in love and in trouble like all good magical duos. Read the first here! This is for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: King. Thanks to @phoebedelia for the beta!!! Read on Ao3.

“No, no, for fuck’s sake Harry, I’ve explained this a hundred times--”

“You explained it exactly three times, Draco, and each time has been different!”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to find a way that penetrates your thick skull--”

“Fuck off, all the way off, out of England if you can. Sit down, let me try again, I think I’ve got it…”

----

The room was more opulent than any other Potter and Malfoy had performed in. The vaulted ceilings were crusted in elaborate crown moulding, the Baroque frescoes painted there almost blindingly bright. Any surface that could have been gilded, was. The air was warm and still--Harry thought he could hear the distant tinkling of a pianoforte.

They were set up at the front of the room, staring down a phalanx of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs occupied by even more uncomfortable-looking aristocrats. The ladies were all breathing shallowly, fanning themselves with lacy fans clutched in gloved hands. Harry couldn’t help but notice the way several of them fluttered their eyelashes at Draco. The gentlemen each clutched a crystal glass of dark liquor, their eyes glazed and distant.

Jones had managed to procure them each a second-hand tuxedo, fine enough that they wouldn’t insult their hosts by their mere presence, but not so fine as to suggest they didn’t know their place. Draco thought Harry looked quite dashing in a tailcoat. He might tell him later, if they found one another again.

Potter and Malfoy had been booked for an hour-long performance and judging by any one of the seven ornate clocks scattered about the large room, they had ten minutes to pull off their final trick. It was more than enough time.

----

“Listen to me, Rose got her hands on the guest list, they’ll all be there. We will never have another opportunity like this, Harry.”

“Yeah, I get that, but--”

“No ‘buts’. My love--Harry, please. We’ve gone over it a hundred, a thousand, times! We will not...cannot...fail.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Draco! What if something goes wrong, what are we supposed to do if we can’t get it? What do we do if we can?”

“We’ll get it. Harry, we’ll get it. We’ve been patient for so long. I need you to trust me.”

----

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Malfoy’s deep voice resonated around the cavernous space. “I’m afraid the time has come for our final act. It is a simple, but elegant, illusion. Are you watching closely?”

Potter stepped forward from where he’d been leant against the vanishing cabinet situated on the far left of the low stage, opposite the second cabinet on the right. “We’d like to tell you a story,” he said in a soft voice. The thick blanket of stale air seemed to ripple with the low, wooden creak as the audience leaned forward as one. Potter flicked his wrist and a deck of cards appeared, pinched between the pads of his thumb and first two fingers. A woman in the third row gasped, softly. He fanned the cards out and extended his arm, moving it first to the left, then to the right.

“Your Grace,” Malfoy said, bowing and gesturing expansively at the Duke to invite him onstage, “This act requires your...particular participation.” After a moment, the Duke made his way onto the stage, accompanied by polite applause.

Potter bent at the waist, extending the deck out toward the Duke. “If you please, Your Grace, examine these cards and confirm for us that this is a complete and unaltered deck.” The Duke took his time. He fingered every card, turned them this way and that, counted silently. After a minute he looked at the audience, “Yes, this seems to be a perfectly normal deck of playing cards.”

“If it pleases Your Grace, would you remove the four kings from the deck--yes, hand them right to Potter here--and then give it a good shuffle?” Malfoy asked. The Duke complied, plucking the four king cards out of the deck one-by-one.

“This is a story about time...and greed; about four kings driven by selfishness and consumed by avarice.” Potter paced the length of the stage with the four cards splayed in his hand, slowing here and there as an audience member leaned in for a closer look. He stopped to the left of the Duke.

“You see, these kings,” Malfoy continued, coming to stand opposite Potter, “have stolen something that does not belong to them. Something priceless and very important. They are under the mistaken impression that this item will bring them wealth and influence.” Draco turned to face the Duke, holding his eye contact.

“What would you do,” Potter said as he, too, turned to face the Duke, “if someone took something from you, something precious? Would you...call the police? Confront the thief? Would you ask your neighbors for help, or keep quiet out of fear and shame? Would you do whatever it took to get it back?”

----

“Draco, I know I say this every bloody day, but you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s too risky. We don’t have enough time...the dinner is tomorrow night!”

“Look at me, Harry, bloody hell, stop and look into my eyes--”

“Stop it, you always do this…”

“Yes! Harry! Because someone has to ensure that we...that our family...that we make it back and unless you have a better suggestion--”

“Jones said! He said he’s got a lead on a series of gigs and sure, it will take longer, but it’s better than risking our bloody--”

“A SERIES OF GIGS? You would rather...keep doing cheap illusions for a bunch of drunks who couldn’t care less, getting beer--OR WORSE--poured over our heads every night…”

“WE NEED MORE TIME, DRACO! We need...you haven’t thought this through properly!”

“Hah! More time! Time is all we have, now, Harry!”

“I can’t lose you...again…”

----

Potter and Malfoy walked around the Duke in a slow, tight circle, heads bowed to the floor as if contemplating their own answers to the question. They came to a stop in their original positions, making eye contact with one another. “The kings have learned that the rightful owners of their pilfered treasure are planning to break into the palace,” Malfoy said gesturing with his free hand at the kingless deck he held in the other, “and steal it back. They form a foolproof plan to thwart them.”

“The first king decides to set a guard on the ground floor of the palace, surely the thieves will try to enter through the portcullis,” Potter slid the king of clubs into the deck near the bottom card.

“The second king thinks that the thieves can’t be so stupid as to walk right in through the front door, so he sets a guard on the second floor of the castle. They will scale the walls and enter through a window, surely!” Malfoy slid the king of spades into the deck just below the middle.

“The third king knows that the treasure has been stored in the vaults on the top floor of the palace, he intends to set a guard there and catch the thieves red-handed.” Potter slid the king of diamonds into the deck just below the top.

“The fourth king, however, thinks himself cleverest of them. He sets his guard on the roof of the palace.” Malfoy lifted the final card, the king of hearts, and placed it gently on the top of the deck before holding it out in front of the Duke’s chest “From his vantage point, he can see everything: the portcullis, the palace walls, the windows in the highest towers, the lands surrounding the palace. He will watch closely and raise an alarm as soon as he sees movement in the dark. He can gather his brethren so they can rain arrows, stones, and boiling fat down on the intruders before they ever breach the palace walls.”

“In the small hours of the morning the fourth king hears what he has been waiting for,” Potter nearly whispered, cupping a hand around his ear as if he, too, could hear it, “the sound of hoof-beats echoing through the trees near the palace. The fourth king called down to his compatriots, urging them to hurry to the roof.” Harry tapped the top of the deck in Draco’s hand, hard, with his middle finger. The gentleman sitting closest to him jumped at the solid thud the gesture produced.

Malfoy fluttered the long fingers of his free hand over the deck before lifting the top four cards. A wave of surprise rolled through the audience as they realized that he held all four kings. They began clapping, hesitantly at first, then more enthusiastically.

----

“Draco, please, we can call it off now. We can just do the gig, get our money, and go home. There will be other--”

“There will never be another opportunity like this, I’m not going to say it again. It’s too late, anyways, the triggers have been set and the charms can’t be reversed.”

“That can’t...but you PROMISED! You said, if we changed our minds we could--”

“I know what I said, Harry, I know. I’m sorry. I love you so much. I love you so much and we have to do this. I had to be sure that we have no choice but to go through with it. This is the only way.”

“You also promised you would find me, will you break that, too? How can I trust you to do that now?”

“Because I will always find you, Harry. I always have. It’s the only thing I am ever perfectly certain of.”

----

Potter held up a silencing hand, never taking his eyes off the Duke’s face. He waited until the room fell quiet once more. “What the fourth king failed to consider was that the men--back to retrieve what was rightfully theirs--had been inside the palace all along. They divined the kings’ plan before the kings themselves concocted it.”

“In fact, the men had already taken back their property, long before the kings set their watches that night,” Malfoy felt the right pocket of his jacket sag under a sudden weight. He tipped Potter a gentle wink as he handed over the four kings, then waved his free hand over the deck. Malfoy used both hands to fan the cards, face out. They were blank, every one. The audience began to murmur, ladies’ fans fluttered and men gestured with their now-empty glasses. “Your Grace, I believe this is yours?” Potter said, handing him the king of hearts.

Potter and Malfoy began to walk backwards, slowly, toward the vanishing cabinets. “As I mentioned, this story--like so many--is about greed.” Potter said loudly over the cheering audience, “More specifically, this story is about what happens to men so eaten up by greed that they no longer care who they hurt in their pursuit of power.” The king of hearts burst into flame in the Duke’s hand, drawing another collective gasp from the audience.

They opened the doors of the vanishing cabinets at the same moment. Harry turned to face Draco, his gaze hot and pleading, tears stinging his eyes. Draco nodded quickly at him, his smile watery and wavering, before stepping inside. As Harry pulled the door closed behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor, followed by a high, piercing shriek, before the dark consumed him.

[atsukashii]

❝remember me❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ you bought something forbidden from the universe, and now you must pay the consequences of buying yourself a soulmate

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x reader

» WORD COUNT: 10k

» GENRE: guardian angel au, ANGST with no happy ending

» WARNINGS: major character death, blood, violence

« masterlist || ao3 »

From the moment your eyes had first met a pair of red vermillion ones, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen them before. That you had witnessed a volume of different emotions swirling inside those irises before, but you could never put your finger on where you had seen them. 

In fact, your fascination with his eyes wasn’t even on the top of the list when it came to your unusual relationship with Katuski Bakugou. You had met as children through your parents and had bared witness as he grew from a confident boy into a sometimes arrogant but determined man, ready to take on the world and bleed for it. To his brash and explosive nature, you were the quiet calm that washed over his bones, soothing his balms with just your presence. His quirk caused destruction if not used properly, and yours healed. You wouldn’t classify your relationship as friends when you were younger, it always seemed to run deeper. 

You often knew what he was thinking before he even moved to do it. You knew his tendencies, his mannerisms, you knew him inside and out, and he knew all there was to know about you. Katsuki Bakugou knew what set you off, what made you tick. He knew you almost as well as you knew yourself. You were polar opposites in every sense of the word, yet somehow were constantly drawn to each other.

And as you grew, your relationship with him evolved as well. 

Entering U.A. had been a turning point in both of your lives. He had been hailed as a hothead, arrogant, and you the protege of the famous recovery girl for your incredibly strong healing quirk. The two of you really couldn’t be more different.

However, you were still drawn to each other by a force that you couldn’t explain. Always conscious of the other person's whereabouts, of their thoughts and their feelings. You both were on a different wavelength than all the other students.

Often, the two of you were mistaken to be dating, and you never bothered to correct someone when they mentioned it because what you felt for Katsuki Bakugou, it was definitely love, but it was something else too. 

Rolling over on your bed, you look up to the ceiling and rest your arms above your head. Another sleepless night, one of many recently, where you have been pulled from sleep by dreams so vivid they tugged at an empty space in your memory with such tenacity, you woke to a sob begging to leave your lips. You want to sleep, you need the rest, knowing that tomorrow you have a day of full training with Recovery Girl. But it just doesn’t come. 

Giving up, you rise from your bed and walk towards your balcony, swiftly opening the door with a silent hiss. The full moon casts the world alight outside, and you sit onto the old chair you had forced your friends to help drag up here in your first year. With your blanket from your bed, you settle into the chair and let your eyes close as a gentle breeze washes over you. Maybe, just maybe out here, you can get some sleep. 

A man's laugh echoes around you, so happy and full of life, you spin in your spot trying to find the source. But the noise teases you, becoming so loud it begins to make your ears ring. The noise pounding harshly against your eardrums, as if to engrain the sounds into your mind. Covering your ears with your hands, you fall to your knees, expecting a sharp pain from the fall, you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. The sound is gone, there’s nothing but a gentle breeze that brushes across your cheekbones. Opening your eyes, the bright light covering everything around you has faded until you’re standing in the middle of a field, a very old Japanese style house sits far in front of you, the lights on and laughter coming from inside it. Cautiously, you weave through the grains of wheat, following a tug in your chest and a voice in your head that says ‘Yes, go there, that is what you seek.’ 

When you get close enough to hear the quiet music, you pause in your steps, looking at the two faceless figures inside the house. They stand in the kitchen, one dancing around whilst the other just laughs. You don’t know who they are, but you’ve never seen two people so happy. Dancing and laughing whilst preparing food, it felt so dreamlike, yet something screamed at you that this was real. 

Your warring thoughts quiet as something gently flutters in front of your eyes before landing on your nose. Turning your head to the sky, falling snow begins to cover the world in gentle flurries that make you immediately feel at peace. The clouds block out the moon and every bit of light, until the world is wrapped in darkness and all you can hear is the laughter from the people as you fall. 

You open your eyes, your chest heaving as your brain becomes foggier than before. A sob is threatening to bubble from your lips, and you sit up from your position as if that will help. You rub at your chest as you bite back the cry from your lips. Your heart aches as if you’re mourning the dream, but you can’t make out why. 

“You’re going to catch a cold out here dumbass.” Your eyes move from your feet to the vermillion red pair on the balcony next to yours, and you let out a shiver at his gaze.

“Well at least I got some sleep out here. I couldn't get any inside.”

“You weirdo.” he grumbles, but you know Katsuki is watching you carefully. “Are you having those dreams again?” 

“Recovery girl thinks it may be a side effect of my quirk. That by healing people, when they are at their most vulnerable, I somehow gain access to a bit of their mind or soul, or something like that.” You explain what you had told him time and time again after you had let it slip that you were unable to sleep because of vivid dreams. 

“That would explain how realistic the dreams are, but it still makes no sense.” 

“What time is it?”

“Two thirty-three.” Katsuki answers and you let out a groan. You had only managed to sleep for an hour. Fantastic. For a moment you stand in silence on your balconies, just taking everything in and appreciating each other's presence.

“I’m going to say this just once, so listen close. Do you need help?” To anyone else, you suppose it would come across as Bakugou being rude, but as you look at him, and see the genuine concern buried deep in his eyes, you know his intentions are anything but malicious. 

“Would you?”

“You don’t even need to fucking ask.” With effortless grace, Bakugou places his foot on the railing before clearing the gap between your two rooms, his feet quickly touching the floor of your own balcony. Without waiting or you Katsuki trudges inside, expecting you to follow, before climbing into your bed. You follow suit with no hesitation, cuddling up to the blonde’s side and resting your cheek to his chest, appreciating the way it rises and falls with every breath. 

“Thank you Bakugou,”

“Just don’t fucking mention it.” He replies, closing his eyes and letting you sleep against him. Since you were children, you were constantly plagued with the inability to sleep. However, Bakugou seemed to be a remedy for that, where you would only nap when on playdates, and when you were old enough to approach the topic with him, he had taken it with no anger or annoyance. He truly was a different person with you. Everyone had noticed but never mentioned it with fear of facing his wrath. And you are glad because to try and explain the connection that the two of you seem to share, you simply can’t, and you don’t think you will ever be able to. 

“We have a briefing tomorrow, apparently the rise in villain activity has the teachers freaking out. They’re bringing us to explain what's going on.”

“Do you think we will have to fight?” You manage to bring yourself to ask. Whether he notices the nervous tremor in your voice at the idea of your friends going into war or not, you aren’t completely sure, but Bakugou gently plays with a strand of your hair as he stares at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, I do. Not that you’ll be the one beating up the bad guys.” He says, but he doesn’t deny the fact that you wouldn’t be on the front lines. Because if a war was to break out, you will be. With your healing quirk as strong as it is, you could be the turning point between winning and losing a fight. 

“I hope that it's all not real.”

“A part of me hopes for that too.” Bakugou admits. He looks down at you and gently cups your cheek, knowing you are unable to hide the fear on your face, and even if you were able to, he would see it. He always does. 

“I’m scared Katsuki.” There's a vulnerability in his eyes as he slowly tilts his head and places his lips to yours in a whisper of a kiss. Immediately shocks erupt across your skin making every single hair on your arms raise in alarm. You head dizzies and you gently grip his shirt to steady yourself to the moment. When he pulls back and you get another glimpse of those ruby eyes, shock rolls through you at the expression in them. There’s fear in his eyes, and you’ve never seen it before. 

“Me too, but nothing is going to happen to either of us. I won’t fucking allow it.” He grumbles before rolling onto his side and bringing you closer. Somewhere along the way, the two of you fall asleep, and then rise again when the noise of people coming from the common room is too hard to ignore. 

                        +   +   +   +   

The mood was somber as everyone disbanded from the meeting room. Instinctively, you reach for the person beside you and grab their hand. Bakugou doesn’t question it as he threads his fingers through yours, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

Tomorrow, they would organise a offensive strike against the currently known base of the League of Villains. The outcome was expected to fall into a full on war, which is why it was crucial to make the first move. You had felt the confidence radiating off the pro’s in the meeting, as if to hide their nerves from the students who will be taking part in the mission as well. The world would be different after tomorrow, and you weren’t completely sure if you were ready for that outcome.

Looking up, you see Katsuki watching Endeavour speak with Aizawa down the end of the hall, his careful gaze picking up every small movement and action. You must have watched him long enough for him to notice, and he turns his gaze to you. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He growls at you, but there's no true bite. You don’t really have an answer for him, so instead you voice your unease. 

“Everything is going to change tomorrow, isn’t it?” The words don’t make the pressure on your chest any easier to handle, if anything, they cause your thoughts to cloud as urgency fills your blood. 

“Probably. We’re going to take out those fucking bastards and the world will be better for it. We’ll be fine angel face.” He says looking down at you before dragging you out of the building and back towards the dorms.

You hope Bakugou is right, but something inside you screams that nothing good will come from tomorrow. And even though you won’t be taking part in the combat, you will be there on the front lines supplying support and healing who you can. 

One more time, you glance up at Bakugou and decide that you will do everything within your power to help make sure that everything goes right tomorrow.

                                  +   +   +   +   

You’re in hell.

Your bones groan under the pressure as you place your hands against the pro hero’s shoulder/ The wound instantly begins to close, and you ignore the emerging burning pain from your own shoulder as you use your quirk. You have trained to be able to withstand large amounts of pain, and your healing quirk was stronger then a lot of others, making you a saviour to the school and today. 

“Y/n, we need your help over here!” You turn your head at Izuku’s voice and gasp as you see him carrying an unconscious Shouto over his shoulder. You get up from the now healed man and race to your friends. You notice what he’s cut up quite badly, but by simply placing your hand on him, you can see the broken ribs, one threatening to pierce his lung. 

“Lay him down.” You say, stepping back. Once Midoriya places Shouto on the floor, you put your hands on his chest and begin to use your quirk, a faint light emitting from your hands as you do so. You take the time to look over Izuku for any injuries, but other than some cuts and bruises he seems to be okay.

It’s only when Shouto lets out a groan and opens his eyes that you let yourself breathe out a sigh of relief. Izuku watches you for a moment before speaking and basically reading your mind. 

“We were taken by surprise from a stray group of villains. Kacchan and I managed to apprehend most of them, but one with a strength quirk basically threw Todoroki through a building, so we decided it was best to fall back for the moment.” He explained and Shouto suddenly let out a groan from between you, opening his eyes and you immediately let out a breath of relief. However it doesn’t last long as his hoarse voice breaks the peace. 

“Where’s Bakugou?” He asks, and your heart drops through your chest. That's right, the three of them are supposed to be in a group. You look from Shouto’s worried gaze and back to Izuku who spins around the makeshift medical hospital. But you already know, he’s not here.

“He was right behind us, I swear-” You don’t even stop to think of what you're doing, your body just begins to move on your own. Ignoring the multiple protests, you sprint out of the building, mentally tugging on that connection deep inside your chest, until you can almost hear it. 

This way. This way.

Hurry.

You have never questioned the feeling once in your life, and you don’t start now. Your legs scream from the overuse of your quirk as you run through rubble and across collapsed structures. But not once do you stop. You have to find him, and something tells you that you need to do it quickly. There's suddenly an explosion from what feels like right beside your head, that has you being thrown back multiple feet. You hit the ground hard and for a moment, the words spin. Your ears ring as you blink your eyes rapidly, trying to focus your balance again. 

Get up. Get up. With shaking hands, you push yourself into a sitting position and try to stop the world from spinning. You try to stare at something to focus your gaze, but a flash of black and orange catches your eyes instead. Standing only a few yards away, is a very bloody Bakugou, with a snarling face and small explosions popping from his hands. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see that his leg is very broken, and his hands… he’s overused his quirk so much he’s bleeding. There’s a rumble from beneath your feet, and you watch in horror as the building behind you both begins to crumble, and standing directly in its wake, unable to move, stands Bakugou.

Horror pulses through your veins at sight, and you are on your feet in seconds. One second, you’re running towards the blonde, and the next your feet aren’t even touching the ground and you’re moving faster than you ever thought possible as a dull pain explodes from between your shoulder blades. You reach Katsuki in seconds, grabbing him as you fly past where the building will fall, feeling the gust of air and dust as debris begins to hit the ground where he once stood. By the time you crash into the ground, you’re out of the destruction zone, but not yet out of danger. 

Groaning at your aching body as you open your eyes again, you can’t see anything because of the dust whipping around through the air, and white feathers. You follow the trail of feathers until your senses acknowledge the weighty wings now emerging from either side of your spine. You have wings? Your thoughts are cut off as you finally see the person on the floor a few feet from you. “Bakugou?” You croak. You can barely walk, but you force your legs to move towards the lying figure. He groans at his name, but that groan quickly becomes a cough that splutters ruby droplets onto the grey floor next to him.

“Katsuki!” By the time you reach his side, you don’t know where to look first, or where to heal first. A large wound cover’s his abdomen and you know deep down, it's fatal. But you can stop it, you can save him. 

“You’re not dying on me okay, Just- just keep looking at me okay?” Tears stream down your cheeks as you try not to sob. With a painful cry, he opens his eyes and you give him a soft smile as those red vermillion orbs you love so much meet your own. 

“That’s it, just keep looking at me. It’s all going to be okay.”

Do not fail him. Not again.

Placing your hands against his wound, you feel his warm blood cover your fingers, but you push your quirk into your hands, diving deep into the pit of power inside your chest as fast as you can. Normally, quick healing can cause you to pass out, but you don’t care about repercussions as you look down at Bakugou. You know without a doubt that he is the love of your life, that the connection you have to him basically made it that way, but your heart did the rest. He’s the love of your life, and you won’t let him die. Not when you can do something to stop it. 

Slowly, his wounds begin to stitch back together, and the bleeding begins to slow. With a painful growl, his red vermillion eyes look up at you, pure shock swirling inside them. 

“Y/n?” The light slows from your hands and for a moment you’re blinded. “What did you do?” You feel nothing at first.  

Then the pain hits you like a sledgehammer. You cough as you fall forwards, your body collapsing beneath your weight. A hand catches you as you fall, stopping your descent for a second. You are turned so you can see the sky, and a dirty, bruised and battered Bakugou kneels over you. 

“Y/n!” He’s shouting at you, but you can barely move to reply. More blood leaves your mouth, the taste of copper being the only thing you can taste. You’re so weak. So weak. Bakugou holds onto you, frantically looking over you, as if trying to find a way to fix you. But he can’t. This is how it’s supposed to be, the voice inside your head says, and for some reason you feel content with the outcome. You may have sacrificed yourself, but to let Bakugou live. It was meant to be this way.

“You fucking idiot. You-you MORON! Take it back! Take it back!” He shouts at you, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you manage to croak out. 

“Its not fucking okay! I’m not letting you die. I’m not letting you go,”

“Katsuki,” you look into his eyes, his hands shake as he takes you in. “This was how it was supposed to be.” You aren’t sure what compels you to say it, but it feels right. You know he has the same sense, because Bakugou vehemently shakes his head and snarls at you. 

“Angel face, you’re not dying on me, you hear me?” He’s crying, gripping the front of your hero costume so tightly,

“I love you.” Your words break from pain, but also from sadness, fear. You are dying, and there is no way you would come out of this situation alive.

You are going to die.

“I will find you again, in the next life. I swear it.” You hiss out as the pain in your abdomen worsens. Without looking down you know that the wound that was once open on his stomach, now emerged on your own. It was the side effect of your quirk, healing others at the expense of your own pain. 

“Please,” You’ve never heard him use the word, in all the years you have known him. And you can count on one hand how many times you have been a witness to his tears. But here he was, sat next to you, tears running marks through the dust on his cheeks, sobbing at you. 

“Don’t leave me. I love you. I need you. Don’t go, not yet.”

“I love you Katsuki,” You smile as you close your eyes and feel yourself take your final breath. You feel the shortness of breath, the air pooling inside your lungs before it expels. And part of you wants time to stop, just so you can experience another second of life, another second to see Katsuki, another second to hear him say your name. But as you let out your final breath, you’re content, because this was how it was meant to be.

A gruttal noise ricochets around you, followed by a scream so loud and heartbroken your eyes snap open. Only you’re no longer in the crushing grip of the man you love. Somehow, you’re standing to the side, watching Katsuki clutch your lifeless body to his chest, screaming. Your eyes sting as you watch him break down. You’re sobbing as you see the moment that Izuku and Shouto arrive on the scene, followed by a variety of other heroes. You’re on the floor as you watch them try to take your body from Katsuki’s hands, but the man practically explodes when they try, so they leave you both there. 

A figure appears behind you, how you know that, you’re not completely sure, but you know someone, or something is there. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask the air.

“No, you followed the path that was placed before you.” a voice that is everything and nothing all at once replies. It sounds as if its inside your head, but also everywhere around you. Turning around slowly, you find the source of the voice being a glowing silhouette of a figure. 

“How did I know what to do? How did I manage to get to him intime?” How the fuck did I grow wings? You wanted to be mad, but everything around you held an air of serenity that you couldn’t physically make yourself become mad. 

“You were one of my children once upon a time.” The voice says, and even though you can’t see their eyes, you can feel their gaze on the wings still behind your shoulder blades. “And you bartered for something that you had no right to claim. And now you must endure.”

“Endure what? What did I do to deserve this!” You hiss, looking at Katsuki, rocking you against him, his shouts still meeting your ears. “What did I do to make him have to live through that!” Your yell breaks from your chest broken and angry as you point to the scene in front of you. Turning around back to the figure you are prepared to release yourself upon it when suddenly it's right in front of you, golden liquid swirls in its eyes and you can’t look away.

“You have to see first.” Hands are placed either side of your face, and instantly grief so painful hits your chest, physically knocking you back and pulling a cry from your lips as your world goes black. 

                                             +   +   +   +   

“Don’t you find this boring?” You ask, looking through the small portal to the world below you. The person next to you sighs, and you turn to them, almost taken back that they look like a male version of you. The same eyes and hair. He was your older brother, your brain fills in. 

“Our job is an honour y/n,” he points out, his eyes narrowing on you slightly.

“I know that, I just wish we could do more you know.”

“When you get your client, you will.” He says smiling, gently patting your head as he stands up. “It should be any day now.” You stand up and smile at your brother.

“I will be the best guardian that ever lived!”

“I have no doubt about it cherub.”

                                     ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

So this is what the human world was like? You wonder as your wings fly you past a war torn town to where the tents stand high over the dirt. It smells like death. The small bond in your chest that binds you to your client pulls you down an alley between tents until you’re standing at the entrance of what you know is a makeshift hospital. With no hesitation you walk in, weaving through nurses and patients alike until you find the curtained off room you’re looking for. Inside there's a sharp yell and followed by a stream of words that make you blanch. Mother have mercy, he had the mouth of a sailor. Deciding to wait until the nurses left the room, you slinked inside and pulled the curtains closed behind you.

The man on the bed instinctively looked up and glared at you and for a second it rocked you. He could see you. Wait, of course he could, you were his guardian angel, he was the only human on the planet able to see you unless you willed it so. 

“Who the fuck are you? And why are you in my fucking room?” For a second, you just stared at the man. With his ash blonde hair, he almost seemed as angelic as you, however those red vermillion eyes had your breath hesitating for disperse from your lungs for only but a moment. They were beautiful.

Realising he was still waiting for your response, you straightened your spine and walked to him, shoving your hand out towards him and let your wings spread out behind you. 

“I’m Y/n, your new guardian angel.”

                                      ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“So you were sent home from the war?” You ask, sitting on the front porch of his old house, swinging your legs as you watched Katsuki work. 

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Katsuki turns to you and frowns at your question. He’d given up on trying to ignore you by this point, upon realising that you wouldn’t leave, so he would humour some of your curiosity. You had tried to breach the reason that you were called upon him in the first place, but he hadn’t yet told you, and as you looked blatantly at his glare, you knew today wasn’t going to be that day either. But it never hurt to try. 

“I was discharged.” Was his familiar response, as he lifted the too over his head and brought it down onto the soil once again. 

“Same thing. So you went from being a general in the army, to being working out here… On a farm.”

“It was my mentor's farm.” Katsuki barks at you, instantly on the defensie. His tone has you raising your hands in the air in peace.

“Hey, I’m not judging you. It’s literally part of my job not to.” You joke, hoping to earn a smile from the man, but all he does is turn away and keep working. You knew a little about why you were sent to be Katsuki’s guardian. He was a rare case, where he had already had a guardian angel, one that had requested a transfer. It kicked up such a fuss amongst the guardians that they assigned you, a newly fledged guardian to him, as if handing off a used toy. Sometimes, you would look at the blonde and think just why his previous guardian made such a decision. Sure he was brash and could be an asshole, but you didn’t have to be a guardian angel to see that he had a good heart. But what had he faced in that war? How had that changed him? What demons did he now carry? That was your job, to watch over him, and give him quality of life until his time was up. You weren’t supposed to completely interfere with him, but he looked so incredibly emotionless all the time, you had to do something. 

Standing up from your spot on the porch, you hop down onto the grass and walk towards him. Grabbing the hessian sack containing the seeds by his feet, you look at Katsuki who is now watching you carefully.

“Well if i’m going to be eating your food, I may as well help right?” You say, smiling from ear to ear in encouragement. Please don’t lock me out, I want to help you. Please let me help you…

“Tch whatever, just don’t get in my way cherub.” He hadn’t meant the nickname to stick, but from that moment on it had. It was familiar to you, for its what your brother had called you, but when it came from Katsuki, it seemed to hit your heart differently somehow. 

“I promise!” 

                    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“Were you always a cherub or did you have a life before or something?” You’re laying on the roof of the old house, looking up at the dark sky, stars flickering across it, familiar constelations glinting at you. 

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly, which has him turning to you. 

“What? You don’t know?” He sounds so offended by your words, so you scramble for an explanation. 

“Well, I have a brother. I know he’s my brother, but I don’t know who my parents are. I don’t know if I was always an angel, or if I was something more before…” Your voice trails off as you look at the sky. Was it possible that you could have been human before you were an angel. You were young compared to some other people of your kind, but you never counted birthdays, so you weren’t even sure how old you were. The idea of your existence suddenly seemed too daunting to fully contemplate, and your eyes sting. If you had been human… did that mean you had a family? A mother and a father? Maybe some siblings? Does that mean you had died… Tears leak out of the corner of your eyes and suddenly Katsuki sits up.

“Shit, are you crying?” His question has you rubbing the salt water from your cheeks and looking at your tear covered hands in awe. You had never cried before… so thats what it was like… 

“I- fuck- I didn’t mean to make you cry y/n,” Katsuki is watching you carefully, with actual guilt on his face. The unfamiliar emotion shocks you still for a moment, before you smile softly at him.

“It’s fine, I just never really thought about it before I guess… you had never questioned your existence until this point. It was weird and overwhelming, to suddenly question something you had believed your whole life, something you knew to be true, but not quite having the whole truth. What was once something you had never paid mind to now felt like a cavernous hole in your chest that screamed to be filled with something.

“You were probably just as annoying as a human as you are now, so I wouldn’t get that excited.” A laugh drips from your mouth as you tilt your head back. Never before had you felt so many mixed emotions at once, sadness and happiness contradict each other inside your chest, and you couldn’t do anything but laugh, and offer the man next to you a tear covered smile. 

“You’re probably right. Maybe I was a crap human.”

“I doubt it.” Your head snaps back to him in slight shock. Although Katsuki had been warming up to your presence, he was yet to be so open about it. “You must have done something right to become someone's guardian angel. So rest easy cherub, there's no way you could have done anything bad in your past life - if you had one.” Katsuki says, laying back down on the roof and averting his gaze back to the sky. You can’t help but watch him for just a moment more. Compared to when you two had first met, he seemed a lot more relaxed and at peace out here, in the middle of nowhere working a farm, then he had been elsewhere. It made you happy, and somewhere deep down, you knew you should have simply felt indifferent about it. But things were changing, you were changing, and you didn’t want to stop.

                        ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Katsuki had been out working when someone began pounding on the sliding doors. From your seat on the back porch, you placed down your book and stood up. Glancing out to the fields, you could see a silhouette in the distance and knew Katsuki would take to long to get back, and the person sounded like they needed help right now. You took a step towards the front door but paused when you realised what you were doing. You were seriously about to break one of the sacred laws without a second thought. For letting someone else that wasn’t your client was a taboo, one that people only crossed if absolutely necessary. You’d been warned against it multiple times, yet here you were about to break it with no hesitation.

What was wrong with you? When did you become so laid back that you forgot your own laws? 

More pounding emits from the other side of the screen door, and you can vaguely see the shadow of the person. Your couldn’t help them. You weren’t here, you weren’t even real. 

You. Were. Not. Human. 

“Please, I need help! My daughter is incredibly ill and I don’t know what to do!” This time you don’t falter when you reach and yank open the sliding door. For a moment, the woman looks over you with glazed eyes, but it's quickly broken when the little girl in her arms lets out a whimper. 

“Please, can you help her? I don’t know anything about medicine and the village doctor is a few hours away.” The woman begs with tears in her eyes. The concern in her eyes pulls at something inside you, and you quickly move to the side, ushering her into the house. 

“Come this way, I’ll see what I can do for her.” You say, sliding closed the door behind her and leading her into the main lounge, an area big enough to lay her down comfortably. 

“Thank you so much,” She sighs, placing her daughter down on the bedding on the floor you had pulled out earlier in the day.

“Don’t thank me yet.” You reply. “I don’t know much about medicine from around here, but all I can do is try.” Kneeling down next to the young girl, you close your eyes and let out a shaking breath. There’s a dark aura around her when you open your eyes again, bleeding from her chest, a sight you have come to recognise as death. The little girl was dying. 

Briefly unsure as to what to do for her, you raise your hands over her and gently place your hands on her arm, letting out another shaky breath. You had only ever heard of it in rumours, and seen it briefly when your brother had healed a cut on your leg, but it was worth a try.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you pictured your essence bleeding into the little girl's arm, going into her bloodstream and pushing out the darkness that beckoned her. For a moment, there was nothing other than the gentle rustle of the trees against the old house. But then, a light began to emit from your hands that was so bright you could see it behind your closed eyelids. 

And when you opened your eyes, you saw the golden light streaming from your hands into the little girl, who’s eyes finally began to flutter. By the time it dimmed to nothing, her eyes opened and a sob ripped out of her mother.

“Mother?” she whispered, her voice raspy with sleep. The mother lunged for her, pulling her into a chest with a relieved cry. Holding her tight to her chest, she looked over her daughters head to you and cried. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You didn’t quite know how to respond, so you simply nodded at her, yourself struck with awe. It was only once you had stood up and moved to give them some space that you noticed Katsuki in the doorway, his brows furrowed and a look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“How did you do that?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the mother and daughter on his floor. You let out an internal sigh at the fact he wasn’t mad that you had invited them into his house without his permission.

“I’m not sure to be honest.”

“That was incredible.” This time, you gape at him as he moves towards you and cups your cheeks. “That was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen.” Katsuki says honestly, and you forget how to breathe. 

“Katsuki…” He ignores your words and looks at the mother on the floor with a fierce glare. You’re about to reprimand him when he folds his arms across his strong chest. 

“If you ever speak to anyone about what happened here-”

“I won’t. I swear.” The mother said, smiling as she stood up. As she passed you she bowed deeply, still holding once again sleeping, but healthy, daughter in her hands. “I will not forget this miracle. Thank you so much for saving my daughter.” And then she’s gone. You stand still, stuck in place by her words. You’re relieved that you helped her, but you know part of you should be worried. You can’t seem to make yourself though, you’re elated, and want to jump around in joy. You had saved that little girl's life.

“You let her see you.” Katsuki says from behind you, and you turn to face him, but he's not looking at you. Standing on the porch, he’s looking back out at the fields and rubs his temples. Maybe he was mad.

“I wasn’t going to help, but when I heard her daughter was sick-”

“And what happens if she goes and tells everyone in the village that some random stranger healed her daughter… with some sort of magic? WHat do you think will happen then y/n?!” You were wrong, so wrong. Katsuki stands in front of you, absolutely livid, and for the first time since you've met him, you can’t read him.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think it through…” You conclude, embarrassed suddenly at your impulsive behaviour.

“What happens if they come here searching for you? They will try and burn you at the stake for being a witch y/n!” Katsuki yells, and you flinch.

“I’m sorry!” You shout back, letting your own frustration at his current attitude make itself known. “You’re right! I didn’t think. Instead, I heard that a little girl was sick, was dying, and I decided to help her. I’m sorry if that's too much for you, but that's not your decision to make Katsuki.”

“You’re damn right it is my decision! You’re my guardian angel, I cant fucking lose you.” Your breath catches at the slight tears building in the corner of his eyes as he points an accusing finger at you. “I can’t lose you y/n.” his anger suddenly drops until he stands there, arms limp by his sides, not daring to look at you. Hesitantly, you step towards him and gingerly reach out for one of his clenched fists. Your heart pounds inside your chest as you feel his warm hand in your own. You’d never really touched him before, not like this at least. Ahd as you drag his gaze to yours, you know that you’re breaking some major rules by doing what you’re about to do, but something also tells you that you had already broken the rule a long time ago. 

“Katsuki,” He finally looks into your eyes, and you find yourself struggling to find the words you want to say, but luckily he complete’s your thoughts by pressing his lips to yours. Sparks shoot down your spine as he threads his free hand into your hair, and every single cell in your body feels as if it has been set alight. This was wrong, on so many levels, but how could this be wrong when being this close to him felt like the most right thing in the entire world?

You clutch his dirt covered shirt in one hand and gently push away from the kiss, resting your forehead on his chest. 

“I can’t-” He grips your chin at your words and stares into your eyes. With so much conviction, Katsuki’s words thread into your heart, permanently scaring his name into your flesh. 

“I love you cherub. I don’t care what power I have to destroy to keep you, but I will do it. I’d bring down heaven just for you.” It was as if you had been waiting your entire life to hear those words, from him. 

“I am yours, Katsuki Bakugou. And you are mine.” You whisper up at him, delighting in how bright happiness shines in his irises. 

“Always.” 

“I love you, Katsuki.” And this time, you meet him halfway into the embrace, crushing your lips together, and letting him raise you in his arms, and carry you to his room. 

                         ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You got four years together, full of happiness, half asleep smiles, starlight whispers and stolen kisses in the fields. 

Then the soldiers came knocking. 

You had hidden yourself without a second thought when there was a knock on the door of your house, and Katsuki had answered it with a calmness that left his body the second the door opened. The men practically shoved a piece of paper into your lovers hands and left, to leave you to deal with the consequences of their actions. 

“Katsuki?” Your voice seemed to bring him out of the stupor he was in, and had him turning to you with furrowed eyebrows. He read the paper once, then twice, before crumbling it between his fingers and throwing it into the fire. 

“What’s wrong?” but you knew. You knew they were taking him away again. 

“I’m being reinstated.” Was all he said before walking through the house and straight out the back door. 

“Katsuki!” You call out, quickly scrambling after him into the darkness. He stalks through the fields like a man on a mission, and you force your shorter legs to keep up with his pace. 

“Katsuki! Everything will be alright-”

“Alright?” He barks, turning around on you with anger flashing through his eyes. “What about this is alright Y/n? They’re making me leave everything to fight in a pointless war, leave you behind. What about that is alright?” His voice threatens to break, and you take advantage of his moment of stillness to move closer to him. 

“You’re right, nothing about this situation is alright. It’s a nightmare come to life, but its our reality.” You say, placing your hands on his cheek, causing Katsuki to close his eyes and lean into your touch. “I don’t want you to leave, but we both know…” Your voice breaks on the word, but you hold back the sob threatening to break free. “You have to go.” The tears building in your eyes break free and roll down your cheeks in a never ending wave, and no matter how many times Katsuki tries to rectify it by wiping them with his thumb, they don’t stop. 

“I don’t want you to go. I want us to stay here. I want to live here forever.” The words force themselves from you as the realisation that he’s leaving finally sinks in. He was going off to war, and there was a chance he would never come back. He could die. 

“I want to live here forever too.” He says, and you look up in slight shock. He was crying, and the only reason you could see the sight was due to the moonlight making them sparkle as they rolled down his cheeks. “I want to marry you, have children with you, fight with you, argue with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to love you here, forever. And when the day comes that we do pass on, I want to do that together too. But when I go, please do not follow me. Stay here, wait for me. Please.” You're sobbing by the time he’s finished, your heart breaks so fiercely that you fall to a heap on the floor, clutching each other so tightly as if it were the very last time. 

Katsuki Bakugou was made for you, and you were made for him. And nothing was going to keep either of you apart. 

The days moved quickly after that, each second spent in each other's presence, as if trying to engrave one another to your minds so you couldn’t go a second without thinking about each other. It would most definitely make parting harder, but you couldn’t care. After many arguments, you had eventually agreed to Katsuki’s request to not follow him to war, so instead you concocted a plan of your own. You would go back to headquarters, and you would ensure that you would never be parted from him again.

It was just a myth, or at least that's what you had once believed, but you now knew it was true. It had to be. Claiming your own soulmate was a big risk, and held a heavy price, but you knew you could do it. Because for Katsuki, for the life he mentioned for you both, for this life, you would do anything. 

                      ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The moment you had arrived back in headquarters, you knew something was wrong. But for the first time since ever here, you didn’t care about your job. You didn’t care about the taboo’s, you didn’t care about being a great guardian angel, you just wanted to be great for Katsuki. And you were going to make it happen. But other people had plans that outweighed your own. 

The moment you had stepped inside the library, your vision went hazy and your knees hit the floor, a dull pain throbbing inside your chest. What was going on. Your hazy vision finally focused again, and you found yourself standing in a room, surrounded by guardians residing on grandstands, and before you stood your brother and a silhouette of white light. But it was to your brother that you looked, and almost winced at the horror and disbelief in his eyes. 

“What have you done y/n?” He asked, his voice breaking on the last word. He looked at you like you had stabbed him in the back, and in a way, you had. You had broken the laws of your people for a man, you had betrayed your family for a human. But it was worth it. 

“Y/n, you have been accused of breaking the laws of guardianship with your client. How do you plead.” Said one of the three guardians on the stand behind your brother. You were on trial, you realised. One that you knew would end in your life either being taken, or being banished. You hoped for the latter, that you could deal with. 

“Guilty. As are you.” Your words cause whispers to erupt within the crowd and you turn to the figure of light and glare. 

“You say you create us in the image of yourself, to help humans, to guide them. But by doing so you have made us slaves to your course. We will never know true emotions, we will not experience life, we do not experience love.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don't care. Let them see the true span of emotions that they never get to experience. Let your words cut them deep. 

“You plead guilty to the charges of breaking lawful conduct with your client Katsuki Bakugou. For this crime, you will be punished with eternal banishment-” Another guardian announces to the room. 

“You can try to take from him, but you will not succeed.” Your yell silences the room, even the slightest whisper quiets at the sound. “My life is his, and his is mine. Until light fades and darkness dies, I will be his and he will be mine.” The words roll off your tongue as if they were made just for you, and for a second you see the silhouette of light flicker, before a sharp pain physically pushes you to the floor. You scream out as your chest burns, as if someone had fisted your heart and set it alight.

There is a moment that you truly believe the pain will kill you, that it will overcome your body and burn you to ash, but as quickly as it appears, the pain dissipates, leaving a thread behind, a thread that throbs harshly inside your chest. A thread that you knew if you followed, would tie you to the love of your life. Holy shit you did it.

“What have you done?!”

“She just bought herself a soulmate,” it's your brother's voice, but you can barely hear him over the sound of your blood pumping through your ears. You raise a hand to your chest as something pulls, feeling as if it tugged upon a rib, and then you're met with such grief it forces your hands to the floor. What was happening? There's a hand at your chin and you look up into the light silhouette and want to cry out at the projection it shows. 

Bakugou lays on the ground, lifeless, covered in dirt. Blood gushes from under him and you let out a howl of a scream. 

“You took something that was not for you,” was the last thing you heard before you collapsed onto the floor and everything went black.

Please not him, not Katsuki. 

                      +   +   +   +   

With a sharp breath, you open your eyes, and fall to the floor as tears stream down your cheeks. The past hits you over and over again, forcing sob after sob from your mouth, as you clutch the surface beneath your hands, trying to ground yourself, but to little effect. 

By the time you have calmed somewhat, your body is completely numb, your brain a cloud of fog continuously rolling in and never dissipating. 

“Was this the price for tying my life to his?”  you ask, knowing that the silhouette of light stil resided in front of you, but you didn’t dare to look up at it. 

“You cannot simply buy a soulmate, or tie your lifeline to his. You are immortal. Forever roaming, never planting your feet purely on the ground.” You clutch your chest, feeling the tether as if it were a string tugging on one of your ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… You turn around and look at the person, the man or woman you can’t tell, it's just a silhouette of blinding light, yet it doesn’t hurt the eyes.

“You mean to say…”

“Yes, you are immortal y/n. You will never die.” and then the being is gone, but his words never leave your mind. 

Because it was right. You don’t die.

For years, you watch the world recover and move on, being unnoticed by all, forever to roam aimlessly as you witness everyone you love grow older.

It's a blessing and a curse, watching your friends all graduate, to grow into their full potential and become the heroes you always knew they would be. But what is hardest is watching Bakugou grow old.

You watch him become the number one hero, you watch him how he regresses and cuts people out of his life in his twenties, and are relieved when his friends help to pull him out of it. You are with him every day, hanging around his apartment, following him on missions, your wings allowing you to keep up with him as he moves quickly. It’s a blessing, even though he doesn’t know you’re there to witness every breakdown, every hardship, but also every success. 

It's a blessing until one day, he meets a woman with a smile like sunshine that stops him in his tracks. You find yourself screaming into the silence, at nothing, trying to do anything to get him to notice you. To remember you. To not forget you, or the previous life that you two once shared.

But this was your punishment, you had bought yourself a human soulmate, one that couldn’t feel the bond as you did, and would most likely never know you existed. 

You watch him date, you watch him have a child, but he never marries the sunshine woman. Instead, she passes away in a freak car accident when the child is barely a few months old. You feel the second she passes the moment it happens, and suddenly she’s in the apartment with you, watching Bakugou try to calm his daughter with no avail. With a sad smile, she turns to you and you’re so shocked you only gape at her. She’s the first person to see you in twenty years. 

“He speaks of you all the time.” She says, looking back at her family once more. “I knew I would always be second in his heart to you, and I was okay with that. I am. He never got over you, and I don’t think he ever will. But he was right, you’re watching over him,” this time she turns her eyes back to you, and wipes the tears from her cheeks. 

“Take care of them, please?” You only get the chance to nod before she's gone. 

Time moves faster it seems towards the latter part of life. You get to watch Katsuki’s daughter grow, and watch him struggle to balance hero work with being an only parent. But your friends Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero step in to help out their little angel, as they call her. The name makes you want to cry every time. 

You watch Katsuki Bakugou live his life to the fullest, you watch him be a phenomenal father, you watch him get injured, and beat villains. You watch him and your friends grow old without you, until you’ve said your final goodbyes to them all, until it's just Katsuki, surrounded by his loved ones on a hospital bed,  grey haired and tanned skin wrinkles from his retirement days spent out in the sunshine. You see his final goodbyes, and you watch that black aura completely leave his body, and then for the first time, you visibly see that tether. 

A string of golden light, the same shade as the one emitted from your hands a lifetime ago when healing a little girl. A bond that stretches across space and time, permanently tying you to the no young ash blonde standing in front of you. He looks the exact same as he did the day you lost him. Katsuki looks down at his hands before looking at you as the world around you begins to dull. 

“Y/n?” You smile at him, letting tears roll down your cheeks as you run to him. “Y/n!” A cry leaves your mouth as you hear him say your name, it had been so long since you’d heard it.

You stop just before him, and hesitantly reach out. You hadn’t felt another touch in a lifetime, and to see him now, to have him here, it seemed too good to be true. However any doubt you carry isn’t held in Katuski, who quickly pulls you into him, a strangled noise coming from his mouth as he directs his lips to yours. You cry against him as you feel his warm touch beneath your fingers, and you know this is real. He’s here.

“Cherub,” he whispers into your hair, and you bury your face into his chest, gripping his back tightly enough to hurt, but he doesn’t say a word. Tilting your chin with a hand, you find yourself looking into the same red vermillion eyes that existed in another time, another dimension, a pair that loved you just as much as they did now. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t-- I couldn’t save you before.” Words bubble out of you before you can stop them. There are so many things you want to say, but not enough time. Because you know that this won’t last forever. 

“Cherub, I’m glad you weren’t there. But you sacrificing yourself for me is another thing because I-” his voice breaks on the word. “I missed you so much Y/n, every fucking day. I wanted to die without you…”

“I made sure you wouldn’t,” your words make him rear back slightly and look down at you again.  “I made a deal, that if you died I would die too, because that would mean I failed my job as your guardian. I made you my soulmate.”

“What was the price?”

“I don’t know.” You say in reply, but now, you think you have the vaguest idea. You bought yourself a soulmate, something that shouldn’t really exist, so now, you would have to wait until the universe decided you had paid enough time until you can reap what you took. 

“How are you here? Did I…” Katsuki finally asks, looking around at the world still moving on without him, but his embrace doesn’t loosen around you for a moment. As if he too is too afraid to let you go. 

“You’re ready to pass on,”

“What about you?” You blink at him and hold onto his biceps. “When I tied myself to you, it was something deeper than I expected, I bought myself a soul to match mine, and I have to pay the consequences from such actions.” an archway opens in front of you both catching your attention, and you shift your gaze from it to your soulmate. You place your hands on his cheeks bringing his scared eyes to yours once more.

“You won’t remember me in your next life,” Katsuki instantly utters a complaint but you shut him up with a hand. “I will be with you, always. I will protect you until my dying breath, and that's all I can do until I pay back for what I took.” Fresh tears well in his eyes as you both feel the pending goodbye begin to loom over you. Your time was coming to an end. 

“How long?” He asks, pressing his forehead to yours and taking in everything about your face whilst he still can. 

“I don’t know, but a few more lifetimes.”

“So I’m just meant to forget you?” He cries, his voice hoarse from crying, and clutches your cheeks tightly. 

“I- I don’t want to. I love you, I never stopped.”

“I know you did, and not a second has gone by that I haven’t loved you with every fibre of my being. But please try and be happy, at least until I get there.” You say, giving him a final soft smile, but as much as you try to portray confidence, the tears of sadness flooding your face you know do the complete opposite. You’ve been so lonely without him, and now, you’re about to lose him all over again. 

“How am I meant to be happy when you’re taking the source of my happiness with you?” He whispers brokenly, and your heart clenches painfully inside your chest. 

“I will always come back to you Katsuki.” The light from the archway begins to glow brighter and brighter, becoming too bright to look at, so instead, you focus on your soulmate and kiss him one final time, putting everything you had into the embrace, and Katsuki returns it tenfold. When you finally pull from him once more, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his. 

“I will find you again, nothing will keep me from you cherub.” 

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Dolls AU: Mama

Well, it’s been a year since “Mama’s Day” and it seems prudent to answer the as of yet unasked question of just how Chaton started calling Marinette “Mama”.

Enjoy!

____________________

Chaton liked his Creator. He liked her more than he could really explain.

She was nice and kind and cared about him lots. She made things for him to have for his very own. She talked to him and hugged him every day. She made him a little bed of his own. And the Box—which was both a blessing and curse sometimes.

She let him take naps on her. She recognized his preferences and adjusted to them, making a floor pillow in a sunny spot when he wanted to nap in a sunbeam or a place for a little blanket nest in a dark corner of his Box when he didn’t feel up for anything. She seemed to read his moods. Not perfectly, of course. It’s taking time for them to be able to communicate properly.

She couldn’t always take him with her, which made him sad, but she found ways around it. She sometimes took him to the Guardian to look after him (who was nice even if he kept asking Chaton questions he didn’t understand and wanting him to try yucky drinks). And when the Guardian wasn’t available and she had to leave Chaton in her room, she went out of her way to make sure he had things to entertain himself with when he was alone.

But he always liked it best when she was there. Even if she admonished him or didn’t let him touch something.

She was the best Creator he could ever want. And he cared about her lots, too. He was always happier when she was around.

His feelings for her felt bigger than his whole body, and he wished he could put a name to them. He wanted to, though.

But what name would fit? Was there a single word that could indicate all of his feelings? The joy of hearing her call out a greeting to him when she was returning after a long day at school? The satisfaction at seeing the pride in her eyes when he learned something new? The relief of her holding him and reassuring him of her safety after an akuma attack? The way her hands seemed to mesmerize him as he watched her work. The simple feeling of contentedness of sitting with her as she rubbed a hand across his head. The desire above all to see her happy.

What word could say all of that?

He decided to search for the words so he could share them with her. Mostly through the “enter-net” in her “compute-her” since he was still too new to go out alone and he didn’t want her to know what he was doing.

He found a lot of words.

“Thank you” and “Gratitude” for appreciation for her kindness.

“Care” and “Concern” for her wellbeing and wanting to see her healthy and happy.

“Happiness” when she was there. “Lonely” when she wasn’t.

Then there was the big one. “Love”.

Did he love his Creator?

Looking up more on the subject, he felt he did. But it was too big. Too vast. Too vague to really hit upon his feelings for her.

He learned that he could love someone. He learned he could love many people. He learned he could love in different ways.

But how?

He didn’t understand it. His only examples were from the “enter-net” and from the Creator herself.

The Creator, who loved everyone, it seemed. She loved her friends. She loved the people downstairs. She loved the pink floaty thing he had to share her with. And she certainly seemed to love the boy whose pictures she kept on her walls.

That’s a lot of love. But she was big, so it makes sense she has a lot more love in her than he did. Because right now, he only loved her, and he didn’t even know how to explain that. He couldn’t find the answer, no matter how many days he spent thinking about it.

If the Creator noticed, she didn’t pry. She simply assured him that he could talk to her if he needed anything.

Everything came to a head one particular day when he’d had enough of thinking and decided he needed to go out and actually find the answer.

He made it about as far as downstairs where the Creator and the two other people were making something that smelled good and he got distracted.

It wasn’t his fault! The cookies were so big and tasty-looking! And they smelled delicious! It was too tempting! And it was only one. It wasn’t like they would miss it, right?

He had made his way onto the counter and over to the pan where the items of ooey gooey goodness were. But he was only limitedly aware of the change in temperature the closer he got to the pan. And even less aware of what that change meant.

Not until he touched the pan and a burning pain lanced through his hand.

Without thinking, he cried out in hurt and alarm. His “voice” wasn’t like his Creator’s or the floaty thing’s or even any of the other people he had observed. It was more of a feeling, a pulse of alarm spread empathetically. So fortunately, those who lacked magic or a strong empathic ability couldn’t feel him, so he remained undetected by the big man or the small lady.

Unfortunately, both the Creator and the floating thing were nearby and fully felt his cry.

Within seconds, there was a thunder of footsteps as the Creator rushed into the room.

“Chaton!” She gasped, reaching out and taking him into her arms. She checked him for any injuries, whispering to him and questioning what happened.

He raised up his hand to her, showing the spot where he touched the hot pan.

She looked over the spot he showed her, frowning in consideration. “It’s not burned at least, and no lasting damage from what I can see. But I bet that hurt, huh?”

He nodded, gazing up at her with little tears of magic pooling in his eyes.

“No no, none of that!” She said, wiping away the magic with a piece of cloth she grabbed from nearby. “You need that magic to keep yourself sustained.”

Finding out he cried magic was….not a pleasant experience. And certainly not something he wanted to repeat. He had certainly worried Creator as she stayed by him for hours trying to replenish what he had lost.

But it hurt though!

“I know it hurts. But I’ll take you upstairs and heal your hand.” She assured him as she stuck the cloth in her pocket for safe retraction and disposal later.

It wouldn’t hurt for long then, at least. And it was already helping just to be this close to her.

“Marinette? Did something happen?” The other woman asked, entering the room.

“It’s nothing! I just…uh…” She glanced around and then down at Chaton who was now trying very hard not to move like she’d instructed him to do when someone else was around. “I just accidentally left Chaton downstairs and he ended up a little too close to the pans.”

The woman frowned at that. “You know that isn’t safe! You need to make sure to leave your projects upstairs or at the very least away from the stove. They could catch on fire!”

“I know, Mom! And I’m really sorry. I just got caught up in helping and misplaced him. So I’m going to take him upstairs right now!”

With that, Creator held Chaton carefully in her arms as she made her way upstairs. Both leaving before they could hear the woman’s questions of when the doll had gotten there as she hadn’t recalled seeing him when she had taken the pans out of the oven…

Once in the safety of her room, Creator set Chaton down on the desk where they could see each other on an even level as she checked over his hand.

“You can’t touch the stove or pans when they’re hot or this happens, Chaton. You could have been hurt worse.”

He lowered his head. He hadn’t meant to get burned. He just hadn’t known it could do that. He would bear that in mind for next time. And be more careful.

“I was really worried about you. Mom was right that it could have been worse.”

…Mom?

“I’m just really glad it you’re safe. I’m still new at using magic to heal, but I can fix this up at least.” She said as she allowed her magic to spread over the cloth of his hand where he had touched the pan, numbing the pain as well as repairing and restrengthening the threads.

Her magic was still inexperienced, but she was getting better with the help of the pink floating thing talking her through it.

Soon enough, Creator was wrapping a cloth bandage around his hand.

“It’s probably unnecessary since you don’t bleed, but it’ll help it heal faster.” She explained, finishing the wrapping. “All done!”

And then she kissed the top of his head.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Chaton.”

He felt the warmth flooding through him once more.

“You’re getting better, Marinette! He should be well and healed by tomorrow!”

“Thanks, Tikki.” She said with a smile before dealing with the residual magic still in the cloth she had wiped Chaton’s tears with from earlier.

Really, tomorrow may be too much, because it already felt better. She really was strong.

Chaton barely gave notice though, too lost in thought.

It was the second time he heard that word. It stuck out to him.

___________________

Dealing with leaked magic was never easy, but it was necessary. The last thing they needed was another incident like a magic-induced trash kraken or a spillage of chaotic-based luck.

But Chaton had been pretty quiet afterwards…

She turned back to her desk, seeing the doll still sitting on the desk where she’d left him. He appeared to be looking rather subdued. She hoped he wasn’t still upset or hurt by what happened earlier.

“You okay, Chaton? Is something bothering you?” She asked.

He looked up at her, frowning uncertainly.

“Mom? What Mom?”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You call ‘Mom’. What Mom mean?”

Was that was he was so concerned about?

“Well, a Mom is…” She frowned, thinking. “A…a female parent. They can also be called ‘Mother’ or ‘Mama’ or some other variant depending on the language.”

“Mama?” He tilted his head in curiosity, listening carefully.

“Like—like my Mom! She made me. She’s raised me.” Marinette smiled as she thought of her. “She’s been looking after me as I grow up. She’s taught me things—supported me when I was right and corrected me when I was wrong. She’s looked out for me and helped to protect me. She’s someone I love dearly because she loves me.”

He stared at her, his eyes wide in awe as he seemed to be absorbing everything she said. After a few seconds, he suddenly nodded.

“Like you to me?”

That got her attention.

“WHAT?!”

For Chaton, it couldn’t have made more sense.

Creator was talking to him like her Mama had talked to her.

Creator protected him. She made sure he was safe and healed his injuries.

Creator gave him kisses and hugs.

Creator made him happy.

“Are you…my Mama?”

And Marinette….

Marinette was at a loss.

Because she wasn’t! After all, she was still a teenager! And Chaton was magic! And she had no idea what she was doing!

“But…I’m not…that isn’t…I can’t be…”

“If you think about it, you kind of are.” Tikki interjected, cutting off her spiraling thoughts. “You made Chaton. You’ve been taking care of him—at least as well as you can given the circumstances. And he is in a lot of ways like an actual child. One you’ve been helping to grow.”

The kwami giggled.

“In a way, you are his mother.”

Marinette looked back and forth between Tikki’s knowing look and Chaton’s hopeful gaze.

“But…is it okay?”

What rules were there about this sort of thing? What made someone a mother anyway? Marinette hadn’t done anything to actually become a mother, so having it suddenly brought up to her felt like it was coming from out of left field.

She knew she was a caretaker for Chaton. But a Mother…?

Except…

When it came down to it, whose call was it, really?

“Do you…want me to be your mother?”

Chaton smiled, bouncing slightly.

“Give hugs and kisses! Pet me and make me things! Keep me safe and happy! Love you lots! Good Mama! Happy with Mama!”

Tikki giggled again. “I think it’s been decided, Marinette.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at Tikki but didn’t argue. She looked down at Chaton fondly.

Chaton merely smiled back up at her.

This…certainly changed things.

But then again, Marinette reasoned as she hugged Chaton close, maybe it was only putting a name to what was already there.

[cuddlepilefics]

We can tell

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

 No one's POV.:

Jeongin knew he could always rely on his hyungs. The were all quite protective of the youngest and would baby him at all times, despite Jeongin trying to push them away. Often times the attention became too much for him. Did they really not trust him for to things on his own? Sure, he appreciated their help when he asked for it but he was an adult too, who should be able to face most of his problems alone. It always got worse, when Jeongin was sick. In no time, the entire group would be pining over him and baby him. It always made the maknae feel guilty because he wasn't even feeling too bad but his friends would do everything for him. Want a drink? Don't move, I got it! Though he would be perfectly able to get stuff for himself, his hyungs would get it for him and he felt bad about his hyings unnecessarily going out of their way for him.

That's why at some point, Jeongin decided to not tell his hyungs when he felt unwell anymore. He'd go ask them for help or Medici ne when he knew it was getting to bad and he needed help but in the main time, he would handle himself. That was also exactly his plan when his throat started to hurt during his vocal lesson. He had probably only strained it a bit anyway. He'd make himself some tea when he got home and it should go away soon. Luckily, the vocal lesson was the last part of his schedule for the day and he could go straight home afterwards. Until his phone dinged with a message that is. Hyunjin had texted and asked if he wanted to join Changbin, Felix and him to get some ice cream. Jeongin contemplated it but decided the cold fruit wouldn’t do his throat any good and that he'd rather have some warm tea. He quickly typed and apology, feeling bad that he had to cancel on his friends. Then he header back to the dorm, happy that his workday was over.

As expected Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix weren't there when he got back. Neither were Chan and Jisung, who had texted the groupchat earlier, statong they'd stay at the studio late. Minho was probably in his room, while Seungmin stood in the kitchen. “Hey, what’s you making, hyung?”, Jeongin smiled, ingnoring the pain in that came with speaking. Seungmin continued to stir in the pit infront of him, turning to him with a smile: “I’m making some hot chocolate to drink while watching a movie. Want some too? You sound like your lesson was intense.” The maknae nodded, it was easy with Seungmin, the other vocalist had been in the same situation multiple times before. It was probably something that just came with their job. While the older finished up their drinks, Jeongin got two cups out and sat them on the counter before raiding their cupboards for marshmallows. He didn't find any so when Seungmin added some cream on top, the younger just added some colorful sprinkles. Jeongin decided to just join his friend with his movie since he didn't have much else to do and he wouldn't have to talk.

What he didn’t expect though was the fatigue that suddenly set in and with the help of the soothing warm drink, he was out before even making it to the middle of the movie. When Seungmin woke him up for dinner, Jeongin needed a second to recognize his surroundings. What he noticed first was the headache thumping behind his temples and the quilt Spread over his legs. They usually kept it over the back of the couch but it seemed like Seungmin had tucker him in after he nodded off. “Hey, the others bought home take out. We got you soup because I thought it'd be easiest on your throat”, the older explained. Jeongin scratched his head awkwardly, mumbling: “You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. My throat will be fine tomorrow.” – “Innie, I've strained my voice in lessons multiple times. We both know how much it sucks and just because it will be better tomorrow doesn’t mean we want you to suffer today. Besides, that was barely any trouble. Come on, let's eat. The others are waiting”, Seungmin smiled.

Despite his nap earlier, Jeongin felt tired and went to bed soon after dinner. His roommate Jisung didn't comment on it but he also turned his bedside lamp off and put in his headphones. The maknae was really grateful for it because his head was still hurting and he couldn't wait to get some rest. Sadly, rest didn’tcome as easy as he had hoped, instead he kept tossing and turning, frequently waking up drenched in sweat from another nightmare. Usually, the maknae wasn’t one to have nightmares and most of the times, he got them when he had a fever. Knowing this, Jeongin got up in the early morning hours and took his temperatur. Sure enough, he was running a mild fever. It wasn’t bad enough to concert him, he was just upset that he couldn’t rest properly. Especially now, that his headache had increased. Sighing to himself, Jeongin took some medicine for his headache and winced at how scratchy his throat felt. He knew he didn’t just push himself too hard the previous day, he was most definitely coming down with something. It would be okay though, he could take care of himself.

Jeongin groaned when jisung's phone blasted ‘fancy you'. Sure, he liked twice but it was way too early to blast any music at that volume. He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Jisung to get him to shut his alarm off. It took a while but eventually it stopped and the maknae almost went back to sleep. He was already drifting off again, when Chan popped his head into the room to make sure they were up, leaving Jeongin no choice but to get out of bed. He shivered as soon as the blanket was gone and decided to wear a hoodie with a t-shirt underneath. They were going to the studio for some recording today and he didn’t want to be cold there. Jisung left their room first, giving Jeongin the chance to try out his voice. He knew it hurt but he didn’t expect to sound this bad. Not even straining himself during practice ever left him this hoarse. How would he be able to hide this from his group. Sure, he'd just try not to talk but eventually he'd have to. Plus, how was he going to record? They'd know then at the latest.

The others greeted him sleepily, when Jeongin joined them for breakfast. He just gave them a smile in return, so they thought he was still tired. Chan pushed a plate in front of him and ruffled the maknae’s hair affectionately. It all went well and Jeongin remained silent throughout their meal till Hyunjin addressed him directly. When the younger just shrugged in response, he frowned: “Yah, talk to your hyung!” The youngest just lowered his head in shame before Seungmin spoke up: “Jinnie, leave him be. He strained his voice yesterday and probably wants to rest it, so he can give his best later. Right Innie?” – ‘Thanks, hyung’, he mouthed with a smile, glad that one of them understood. “Aish. Next time maybe shoot us a text as a warning. We got a bit worried when you just kept quiet”, Chan chuckled, “If you don’t feel up to recording, let us know, okay?” Jeongin nodded and continued eating. Afterwards, he went through his morning routine and applied a good amount of concealer to cover the dark circles under his eyes. He also snuck some more painkillers into his pocket to take later and found a bag of cough drops at the back of his closet, which he quickly shoved into his backpack. Maybe, just maybe, they’d fix his voice enough for him to sing later. He was absolutely dreading the moment he had to record, fearing he wouldn’t be able to but his wishful thinking motivated him to push on.

Jeongin slept through the entire drive to the studio. Initially, he had fallen with his head against the window but it looked highly uncomfortable, so his seatmate Changbin carefully moved the youngest’s head onto his shoulder. While doing so, he clearly noticed the difference between the temperature of Jeongin’s skin and his own. Making sure the maknae really was a sleep, he whispered: “Guys, Innie has a fever.” Chan immediately leaned over to feel the youngest’s forehead for himself, his face dropping when he had to realize his dongsaeng was hiding something from them. Now that it was confirmed that Jeongin was sick, Changbin refused to wake him when they arrived. Instead, he carried him up to the study and laid him down on the couch there. The members either piled onto the other couch or sat on the floor, so their dongsaeng could rest. They weren’t planning on confronting him when he woke up, they’d rather Jeongin admitted it himself, so they continued to work, recording their parts while shooting the youngest concerned glances every now and then.

It had been almost an hour, when Jeongin sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around confused, trying to figure out where he was. “You fell asleep in the car, so Changbin carried you to the studio. We thought some extra sleep wouldn’t hurt, since you’re not due to record until later”, Felix chuckled at the younger’s dazed look. Minho sat down on the couch next to Jeongin, a plastic cup in his hands, as he smiled: “I brought a large thermos bottle of tea, I thought it might help your throat some.” Jeongin bit his lip looking sad all of a sudden. Then he pulled his phone out and typed: ‘I really appreciate it hyung but seriously I’m fine. You wouldn’t have needed to bother doing that.’ He already felt guilty enough that Changbin had had to carry his lazy ass all the way up here, when he could have walked by himself perfectly fine. “Well, what if I wanted to?”, Minho asked and pressed the plastic cup into his dongsaeng’s hand. The youngest immediately wrapped both hands around it to warm, only noticing now how cold he felt. He gave Minho a shy and grateful smile before taking a careful sip, trying not to burn his mouth.

Minho had added a generous amount of honey and Jeongin almost sighed at how soothing it felt going down his throat. He didn’t want to admit it but he was quite happy that the dancer had gone out of his way to bring this along. Sadly, once the cup was empty, he didn’t have anything to warm him anymore and the chills were slowly starting back up. How could he possibly feel this cold, considering the layers he had put on? Pretending to go to the bathroom, the maknae snuck away to take another dose of painkillers. They were supposed to also lower his temperature, so maybe he’d feel a bit warmer if his fever went down a bit. At the same time, his hyungs knew he was lying about needing the bathroom, they were suspicious as to what he was really doing, hoping he didn’t feel sick to his stomach too, but they didn’t want to follow and pressure him too much. Should he be gone for too long, one of them would go look for him. “Is it just me or did you notice Jeongin shivering too?”, Jisung asked thoughtfully. Seungmin shook his head, stating: “Not just you, I think his fever is giving him chills.” They didn’t manage to speculate much further because right that moment, Jeongin returned.

‘Aish, what am I going to do with that little rebel? It would be so easy if he could just give in to the truth, so we could take care of him’, Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. He could still see the youngest shaking, though he tried so hard to conceal it. Then the leader had an idea. He got up and grabbed his coat, wrapping it around Jeongin’s shoulders. The he tried to muster as much of a lighthearted smile as he could and hummed: “Innie, it’s your turn soon, so you should probably start warming up. That way we can also hear how your voice is doing.” The vocalist was fast to regain his composure but the split second of horror, that flashed across his face, didn’t go unnoticed by Chan. Jeongin cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face despite the pain, and tried to hum a little tune, they often used to warm up. Apart from him, there was complete silence in the room, everyone waiting for the moment of truth and cringing in sympathy at how raspy his usually clear voice sounded. Chan was the first to react when Jeongin suddenly broke into tears, pulling him into a hug. It wasn’t even the pain getting to him. It was his frustration about not being able to record that day and therefore holding his group back. His frustration about showing his hyungs that he wasn’t doing his best today and thereby making them worry about him.

“It hurts that bad?”, Seungmin asked in shock. Jeongin shook his head, while the oldest rubbed his back. He croaked: “I-I’m sorry, now I’m holding all of you back again. I’m just so – so f-frustrated w-with myself.” He didn’t even know why he got so worked up about it because he really wasn’t this emotional, maybe the fever got to him more than he wanted to admit. Chan clicked his tongue, leaning closer to Jeongin’s ear, and whispered softly: “Why do you always think you’re holding us back? You can just record another day. If you keep forcing yourself now, you might even damage your voice. That’s not worth it.” The younger sniffled and nodded into Chan’s neck. “Most of us are done already, so why don’t you go home with them and rest a bit? You don’t need to hang around here, especially since I’m sure, your bed is more comfortable than that couch and we wouldn’t want you cold getting worse”, the leader mused. Jeongin pulled away shocked, frowning: “How do you know?” – “Innie, we can tell when you’re sick”, Chan chuckled and helped his dongsaeng to put his coat on properly, so Minho, Felix and Seungmin could take him home. Being producers, Chan and Changbin had to stay back at the studio to finish up with Hyunjin and Jisung but they’d all join them at the dorm in another hour or two.

Jeongin had stopped crying but remained quiet on their way to the car. While settling in, Minho poured him some more tea before shoving the thermos back into his backpack. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick, Innie? Or should I say, why did you try so hard to hide it from us?”, Minho asked hesitantly. The youngest bit his lip, selecting his words carefully: “You’re always there for me, all of you. You worry so much. I can take care of myself but y’all keep babying me and I feel guilty when you worry and do things for me that I can do myself. You don’t have to go out of your way for me and every time you do, I feel like a burden. I don’t want to be a burden. I took medicine and sucked on cough drops, went to bed early. I really did take care of myself.” When he started to get worked up again, Felix side-hugged him, causing him to shut up. “Well, it is our job as your hyungs to worry about you, there’s no way around it. You should know, as Chan said, we can tell when something’s up and if you don’t talk to us, we’ll most likely assume something a lot worse than what is actually going on. If you really want us to worry less, be honest with us, so we can see what we’re dealing with. Second, how dare you consider yourself a burden? You’re our baby and of course, we’ll always be there for you”, Minho frowned. Felix nodded and continued: “You might not understand the way we feel about you but we really love doing things for you, so please, please, please don’t feel guilty about it. For you it might seem like a bother going out of our ways but we really want to do all of that.” – “And, we don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself, probably better than half of this group. The thing is though, you don’t have to. If you really want to be more independent, that’s fine. We’ll try to hold ourselves back but just know, we’ll be there, not because we have to but because we want to”, Seungmin added. By now, Jeongin was almost tearing up again, touched by his hyungs’ words. He took a deep breath to calm himself, inhaling a faint whiff of Chan’s scent from the coat he was wearing. They really did care about him like brothers.

Already in a better mood after their talk, they made their way to the dorm, where Minho announced: “Let’s get a read on that fever and if it’s not too high, why don’t you take a nice warm bath. You’re still shivering.” They kicked off their shoes and Minho took him to the bathroom, watching as Jeongin took his temperature himself. It was moderate but not too high, so Minho started a warm bath while Jeongin went to pick out some comfortable clothes for himself. On his way back to the bathroom, he was stopped by Seungmin. “Hey, we thought it’d be fun to do a movie marathon if you feel up to it? And I wanted to ask if you’d prefer tea or hot chocolate like yesterday”, the second youngest asked. A wide smile spread on Jeongin’s face and he shyly requested: “Hot chocolate would be nice but you really don’t have to. I liked it when we watched the movie yesterday.” – “I’ll make hot chocolate for all of us, don’t worry about it”, Seungmin giggled and ruffled his only dongsaeng’s hair. Jeongin was just about to enter the bathroom with the pile of clothes in his hands when Felix came sliding on his fuzzy socks, panting: “Wait, wait, wait, I found this really cute pink bathbomb in my bag of toiletries and I want you to have it.” The maknae blushed, resembling the shade of the bathbomb itself, and thanked the Aussie before finally returning to the bathroom.

The tub was already filled and Minho told him to enjoy, before leaving to give his dongsaeng some privacy. He helped Felix set up pillows, blankets and some additional beanbags, so every member would find a spot when they returned from the studio. The living room was already smelling comfortingly sweet from the chocolate Seungmin was melting for their drinks. Maybe their dongsaeng wasn’t feeling all that awful but that didn’t mean that they didn’t want do make him as comfortable as possible and cuddle him all better. Plus, who’d say no to some quality time with their cute maknae? A group movie marathon really sounded like heaven right now and the only thing that could make it even better was the hot chocolate Seungmin prepare, decorating it with cute colorful sprinkles just like Jeongin liked it.

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Sleepless in the Tower

Title: Sleepless in the Tower

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rodgers!Reader

Requested?: Yes! : Hi can I request a peter parker x reader please where I'm in a relationship with peter and I'm bucky and Steve's daughter and me and MJ go to a night club that we told not to go to and I end up getting really drunk and she ends up having to call peter and he takes me back to the tower trying to wake everyone up but ik being so loud and everyone goes mad that snuck out and got drunk and my dads try to take care of me but I just want peter thanks xx

Warnings: Teenage alcohol use, wild mood swings, Peter being scared shitless of your dads

Word count: hahahahahahahahahahaha...7K

Summary: Y/N’s drunk, Bucky’s angry, and Peter just wants to get some sleep.

    Peter Parker was not one to usually get the of 8 hours of sleep that was recommended for guys his age. Between homework, studying for decathlon, spending time with May, going on patrol, and trying to squeeze in more than just a few spare minutes with Y/N a day outside of school, sleep just didn’t fit into his schedule. Peter didn't dare complain. He loved doing all of those other things, and if sacrificing a few hours of sleep here or there was the price he’d have to pay for them, he’d willingly pay it. 

    Even so, he wasn’t completely tone-deaf to his body’s needs. Peter could tell he’d been running more than a few hours short for the past few days, but he had yet to find a way to get some sleep without letting one of his other responsibilities fall by the wayside. It was getting to the point where he was thinking very seriously about just taking a quick nap right on the roof where he was currently perched. If he was being completely honest, only the mental image of May and Y/N absolutely losing it if they found out about his little rooftop snooze was keeping him awake. Frowning, he yawned for what felt like the millionth time that night as he scanned the mostly empty streets. He was more than used to the constant urge to sleep, and was sure he could make it the next few hours without passing out.

Still, everyone had a breaking point, and Peter was relatively sure that he was nearing his. 

Miraculously, it seemed luck was on his side tonight. His patrol had practically flown by without much of a hitch -- save a few random muggings, Queens seemed pretty quiet. Peter felt a small bit of hope begin to bubble and build in his chest as he realized that he was going to get to go home early for once. Even more exciting was the fact that tomorrow was Saturday, and he had the opportunity to actually sleep in for once. He grinned beneath his signature mask, exhausted body beginning to tingle with anticipation at the prospect as he swung his way home. 

Peter had barely made it in his bedroom window before he flopped face-first into his mattress -- suit, mask, and all. He groaned loudly at the way his soft bed felt against his exhausted and aching muscles, thoroughly pleased and delighted at the welcome comfort. As he grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and snuggled his mask-clad face into it, it suddenly occurred to him that he was falling asleep at an alarming pace and that he was still wearing his full suit. Peter groaned internally as he pictured all the jabs and jokes Mr. Stark would surely come up with once he found out Peter had fallen asleep in the suit.

Again. 

Peter idly contemplated the effort it would take to remove it before eventually deciding in favor of not moving. Mr. Stark could tease all he wanted -- and he surely would -- but there was nothing on Earth that was going to make Peter move from his bed for the next 12 hours or so. 

Just as he was beginning to drift off, the dull buzzing of his cellphone registered somewhere in the back of his mind. Still too tired to properly function, Peter ignored the annoying sound and stubbornly attempted to fall asleep even faster now, before something could get in his way. Eventually the noise mercifully stopped and Peter smiled a little, feeling slightly smug that he'd successfully ignored the distraction.

“Peter?” KAREN chirped. 

Though the AI’s voice was as smooth and gentle as ever, the sudden sound in his ear breaking through the silence of the room startled Peter. He jolted upwards and yelped in surprise before scanning his bedroom urgently. Realizing that there was nothing visibly amiss, he flopped back down onto his pillows and groaned loudly. Thoroughly annoyed at whatever, or whoever, could be the cause of the interruption, Peter merely grunted in response as he screwed his eyes shut once more. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, but per the protocols you set I’m alerting you that Y/N has called you more than twice and you haven’t responded,” the AI calmly reported. 

Peter muttered incoherently in acknowledgement as he drifted in and out of consciousness, and KAREN fell silent. For a beat or two it seemed the tired superhuman had finally succumbed to the sleep that’d been threatening to claim him all evening -- his body still and breaths slowing steadily. 

Until KAREN’s words sunk into his mind and his eyes shot open. 

Peter gasped -- the hairs on the back of his arms suddenly standing upright and his skin prickling with alarm as he bolted up once more-- this time fully awake. 

“Y/N’s been calling?” he questioned KAREN, heart beating wildly and thoughts racing with the possibilities of what could be causing his girlfriend to call him at… “Also what time is it?”

“It’s 3 am Peter”, came KAREN’s calm reply. “She’s called you three times so far, and it appears she’s calling again right now.”

Peter lunged for his backpack -- it was propped up against the wall where he’d tossed it carelessly earlier tonight as he’d scrambled through the window. Fingers practically vibrating with anxious energy, he dug through the mess in his bag frantically in search of his phone. Finally finding it, he quickly swiped across the picture of the two of you that was flashing on his screen. 

"Y/N?" he questioned breathlessly. "What's going on, what's wrong?"

"PETEYY," you sang through the phone. "Oh my gosh I misssssed you!"

Peter felt his brows crinkle in confusion. You never called this late, knowing that he was usually on patrol at this time. Plus, he could sense that something was off just by the sound of your voice. Your words were just slightly slurred together, and the pitch was a little higher than it normally was. It reminded him of the way you sounded right before you fell asleep, when you were really, really tired. Peter briefly considered that you might actually be calling him in your sleep, but the constant buzz of voices and noises in the background that weren't yours told him otherwise.

"Y/N babe what's going on? Where are you?" he asked nervously. 

" 'm out with MJ and we saw this totally awesome band and OH. Petey you should've seen them they were so awesome! You would've loved it. The guitar player was...," you chattered excitedly through the phone, completely oblivious to your boyfriend's obvious concern. Peter's brows furrowed deeper, and he felt his face contort into a look of pure confusion. 

"That's great babe, but I'm confused," Peter cut off your rambling abruptly. "Where are you?"

"Mmmm I'm not really sure!" came your thoroughly unbothered reply. "Somewhere in the city maybe? Yep. Definitely in the city."

Peter sighed, a gloved hand coming to rest on his covered head in exasperation. 

"What? Sorry -- no MJ, it's Peter!" he heard you mumble to someone else. "Petey? MJ wants to talk to you, 'kay?"

There was some shuffling on the other end of the phone before Peter heard MJ's voice. 

"Hey."

"MJ? What the heck is happening?" he questioned for what felt like the hundredth time in just a few minutes. 

"Y/N just showed up at my door tonight and dragged me out to see this show," she explained casually. "It was actually pretty cool, but anyways people have been buying her drinks left and right the entire time. So now she is wasted and, don't get me wrong, it's hilarious, but I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to get her home."

"Wait, Y/N is drunk?" Peter exclaimed, shocked. Never in all the years that he'd known you would he have ever thought that you'd be calling him at 3 in the morning, drunk. You were only 17! You were incredibly smart and goal-driven -- underaged drinking was just not something Peter would've expected from you. 

"As a skunk," MJ replied in her deadpan voice. The knot of concern twisted deeper in Peter's belly as he realized the potential danger of your situation. 

"PETEY! Is that Peter? Tell him I love him!" Peter could hear you yelling from somewhere around your phone's speaker. Ignoring the light blush that always seemed to creep up his face whenever you said things like that, he asked again where the two of them were. MJ calmly gave him the address, and he instantly grabbed his backpack, scrambling onto his fire escape and out into the night. 

"Okay, just stay there, I'm coming," he grunted as he swung from building to building. 

"I'll do my best, but you might want to hurry," MJ agreed cautiously. "Your girl is about 10 seconds away from throwing a punch."

"She's what -- why?!"

"No, I told you I don't want another one! You are being so pushy right now!" Peter heard your irritated voice, slightly muffled in the background. 

Anger and panic started to burn in his chest like acid as he realized that someone, probably some dude, was making you feel uncomfortable. The anger churned and mixed with the concern in his belly, creating a fire the likes of which he'd never felt before. He'd been angry before, sure, but this feeling was entirely new. The protective feelings only intensified as he pictured you, alone and vulnerable as some creep was pushing his way into your space. 

"I'm coming," Peter growled as he increased his speed. 

MJ ended the call, and Peter started throwing himself through the skyline as fast as his muscles would physically allow. He wasn't sure who you'd been arguing with or why, but the pit of anxiety in the bottom of his stomach was only growing bigger the longer he wasn't with you. 

All he knew was he needed to find you and find you fast. 

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

Even though Peter's mind was screaming for him to get to you as soon as possible, he realized that him trying to find you while still wearing his suit was problematic at best. So he changed as fast as he could, throwing his regular clothes over his suit, just in case. 

Nearly tripping over his own feet in his attempt to get out of the alley quickly, Peter's eyes scanned the busy street. His eyes washed over the crowd, desperately searching, before they finally landed on your face. You were swaying your hips to an imaginary beat and singing quietly to yourself near the street. MJ was sitting on the curb near you, watching your performance with amusement written all over her features. Relief surged through him at the sight of your cheerful expression, and he swiftly jogged to your side. 

"Hey, you finally made it," MJ remarked sarcastically as he reached the two of you. Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the small grin that was rapidly taking over his face at the sight of you. You looked so happy, so free, that the feelings radiating from you combined with the lingering relief Peter still felt made the poor boy let out a breath for the first time since he'd taken your call.  

You, however, still hadn't noticed that your much beloved boyfriend had arrived. Though you'd been whining to MJ about wanting to see him for the past few hours, you were extremely distracted at the moment. Save the few sips of scotch you'd snuck from your dads every now and again you'd never really drank before, and now that you were decidedly tipsy you were feeling great. You weren't really sure what the source was, but your body felt like it almost couldn't help but move. It could be the leftover adrenaline from the concert, the thrill of sneaking out late, the five (or ten) drinks you'd had, or some combination therein, but you felt incredible. 

Your body felt like it was practically buzzing with energy. Humming along to your favorite song, you hopped one foot onto the curb gracefully-- or more likely clumsily -- and began taking slow, wobbling steps down the narrow path. You idly wondered when Peter would arrive, the sudden thought causing the butterflies in your stomach to kick up in excited anticipation. As you walked the curb like a tightrope your brain was filled with images of his handsome features, and you felt your face break out into an even wider grin. Surely he must be getting close by now? It felt like years since you'd talked with him on the phone, and -- 

Your thought abruptly cut-off as you felt the foot closest to the street slide suddenly out from underneath you. Reflexes all but non-existent at this point, you only managed to let out the briefest gasp before you tumbled off the curb completely.

“Whoa,” a voice sounded in your ear. Someone was gripping your body tightly, arms supporting your entire weight to prevent you from toppling face-first into the street. The voice sounded familiar in a way your alcohol-infused brain couldn’t place right away. Scrunching your face in confusion, you quickly scrambled your way out of the stranger’s arms and put some distance between the two of you. Turning suddenly, you spared a glance at your savior, internally hoping it was someone you at least knew. A brief look was all you needed, confusion giving way to pure excitement as a jolt of recognition ran through you. 

"PETEY," you squealed, happiness bubbling up in your hazed mind as Peter's face came into your line of vision. You threw your arms open expectantly, and Peter chuckled lightly before pulling you into his embrace once more.

"Getting into all kinds of trouble, huh babe?" Peter whispered fondly into your hair, the gentle feeling of his breath tickling your scalp and making you smile. You let out a girly (and very out of character) giggle, snuggling deeper into your boyfriend's arms. 

"Mmm nope, no trouble here," you hummed playfully, grin widening as you felt Peter's chest gently vibrate as he chuckled. Unbeknownst to either of you MJ rolled her eyes incredulously. 

"Yeah right," she snorted. "Tell it to that guy."

Peter followed her jutted out thumb to see an older guy, standing near the bouncers of the nightclub with a surly expression and a prominent welt forming under one of his eyes. Peter pulled himself out of your death grip just far enough to send you a curious glance.

"Y/N...?" he questioned, clearly hoping for an explanation. Your eyes traveled to the man in question, irritation blossoming in your chest as you recognized him. 

"I don't like him," you huffed. MJ chuckled. 

"You don't say" she drawled sarcastically. "I would never have guessed, ya know, by the way you punched him in the face."

"You did what," Peter exclaimed.

"Punched him!", you piped up from his chest, smiling proudly at yourself. 

Peter took a slight step back and stared at you, wide-eyed and slack jawed. He couldn't picture you, his intelligent and sweet girlfriend punching anyone, much less a grown man, in the face. He sputtered incoherently, unable to formulate a response. 

You giggled at the look of pure confusion on his face for a moment before deciding you should probably explain. 

"Mhm, he was being really obnoxious! He kept, like, insisting -- no demanding-- to buy me a drink, and I obviously told him no way cause I didn't want one. And also I told him that my boyfriend was coming, but he didn't believe me! Fucking jerk, right? So I went to walk away, 'cause I was getting really annoyed, and he grabbed my arm really hard and wouldn't let go! So I punched him," you babbled, annoyance and pride lingering on your face as you recalled the encounter. 

Peter just stared for a moment, the adorable dumbfounded look still overtaking his sweet face as you told the story. An all too familiar feeling of complete adoration for him washed over your intoxicated brain like a wave as you watched him try to process things. How you came to deserve someone like Peter was still beyond you. 

"Yeah it was pretty awesome," MJ agreed, a sly smile taking over her features. "Guy was a total creep."

You huffed again, childishly shoving your face back into Peter's firm chest. 

"He was mean."

Peter’s protective hold over your body tightened as soon as the words tumbled from your lips. It seemed he'd finally broken past his complete shock and was now in full defensive mode. You looked up to find his normally peaceful, chocolate-brown eyes turned suddenly dark with anger, and you could feel the way his muscles tensed as he shot the man a glare. Guilt wormed its way into your chest as you realized how things probably sounded to your over-protective, chivalrous-to-a-fault boyfriend. 

Trying to think quickly, before Peter did something he was sure to regret later, you grabbed his face with both of your hands. He hesitated for only a moment before willingly allowing you to turn his face back towards yours. Smiling deviously, you peppered kisses all over his quickly reddening face in an outward show of affection. 

The effect was almost instantaneous. Peter's eyes softened and his cheeks heated with a light blush that made your tummy erupt into butterflies. Best of all, his lips quirked up into your favorite sweet, crooked smile. 

You gripped his body a little tighter, suddenly wobbly on your feet. The sight of Peter in all his lovely, shy glory never failed to make your knees weak, and this moment was no exception. Even though you admittedly probably wouldn't have been able to stand upright without Peter's support regardless. 

"Hey, s'okay Petey, I took care of it," you reassured him in between kisses. He sighed, pulling you closer into the fold of his arms and burying his face into your hair. 

"I know, I just got nervous when you called," he murmured against your head. "And then I heard you arguing with that guy and I couldn't stop picturing all the terrible things that could be happening. And I was just so scared because I wasn't there, and if anything ever happened to you I just… I couldn't…"

Your heart swelled with an overwhelming feeling of pure guilt as Peter trailed off. How could you be so stupid. Of course he was worried, it was Peter. The things he'd been through, the things he still saw on a daily basis. You sniffled, tears stinging your eyes as you realized just how upset you'd made him. You gripped Peter even more tightly, and a small sob ripped through your throat as you spiralled instantly into a pit of self-loathing.

"I-- 'm so s-sorry Peter," you blubbered, your voice muffled by his chest as big, sloppy tears rolled uncontrollably down your cheeks. "I didn't mean to make you worry, I just was having so much fun and I re-really wanted to see you!"

"Hey, hey," his smooth voice cooed in your ear as his hands began rubbing across your back lovingly. "It's okay, you're safe now and that's all that really matters. Please don't cry Y/N/N, it's okay angel."

His sweet words of reassurance did little to quell the tsunami of tears now flowing freely from your eyes. In fact, the idea that he was now comforting you when you were the one who'd caused this problem in the first place was only making things worse. You openly sobbed against his chest, too drunk on alcohol and self-loathing to really care that every person who walked past was eyeing you both with a mixture of pity and annoyance. 

It went on like this for several minutes (or maybe hours? You couldn't really be sure at this point), until Michelle cleared her throat loudly. 

"Not to break up this cute little love-fest--" she ground out, discomfort breaking through her disinterested facade. "-but I'd really like to get home now."

Peter's face flushed instantly, the adorable pink flooding from his neck to the tips of his ears. He backed from you a little but kept your bodies linked by threading his fingers through yours. You couldn't help but giggle at his obvious embarrassment, your tears drying as you were suddenly flooded with feelings of adoration for your sweet boy. Peter cleared his throat and nodded at MJ. 

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

Peter considered himself pretty brave. He fought off thieves, muggers, and would-be bank robbers on a near nightly basis. He faced the most sinister parts of his city with absolutely no fear at all, but at the moment he couldn't have felt more like a scared child. Because if he was being really honest, the thought of facing either one of your dads made him feel scared absolutely shitless even during the best of times. 

And clearly this was not the best of times. 

The mere thought of trying to explain why he was not only helping you sneak back into the tower in the middle of the night, but sneaking you back in while you were completely wasted, made Peter feel like he could vomit on the spot. He knew your dads were only begrudgingly okay with the idea of the two of you dating, and the fact that he was now bringing their sweet, innocent baby girl home -- drunk-- in the ungodly hours of the morning would surely do little to endear him to them. But nevertheless, you clearly needed the help, and Peter's instinctual need to protect you outweighed the pure terror he felt when thinking of your dads. 

And boy did you need help. 

If he hadn't been by your side the entire time he would've sworn you'd snuck a couple more drinks on the way home. If he thought you'd been loud beforehand, it was nothing compared to now. The entire cab ride home had consisted mainly of you alternating between singing loudly as you described the concert for the millionth time, sobbing because you 'just love you so much Petey!', or you sloppily planting as many kisses all over Peter's face as you could. If he was being honest with himself, Peter would have to admit that he found your alcohol and sleep drunk state extremely cute; if he wasn't so terrified at the prospect of your dads seeing you like this, that is. 

Getting you through the tower was simultaneously easier and much more difficult than Peter anticipated. Easier because you'd hacked into FRIDAY's system before you'd left and somehow deactivated the security alarm for the two of you. And so much more difficult because getting you to your room quietly was seeming virtually impossible. Outside of the fact that you practically screamed every time a new thought popped into your head (which was frequently), you also continually tripped over nothing at all and landed in a heap on the floor. Even clinging to Peter’s arm with a kind of death grip that was making his fingers feel slightly numb you still managed to find a way to fall over every few steps. 

“Whoopsies!” you ‘whispered’ giggling as you looked up at him from the floor once more . Peter sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes in frustration. While he was glad you’d taken his note about talking more quietly, the stage-whisper you’d taken to speaking in wasn’t exactly an improvement. As he helped you back on to your feet for the millionth time, he glanced down the hallway to see how far the two of you still had to go. He groaned and cursed under his breath -- you were moving at a near glacial pace, and the pair of you had only made it as far as the common room. Deciding a different approach was necessary, Peter motioned with a finger to his lips for you to remain silent before swiftly picking you up. One of his arms wrapped under your knees and the other around your shoulders as he scooped you up, cradling you like a child against his chest. Ignoring the way you squealed at the sudden movement he started walking towards your room, determination written all over his face. 

“How can you be so cute?” you questioned playfully. Peter’s eyes widened at the sound of your loud voice, internally begging you to quiet down. Evidently you did not get the subtle message -- instead, you attacked his face with kisses, cooing and fawning over him loudly as you did. Fear burned through Peter at the sheer amount of noise you were making and he jerked his head away from you in a futile attempt to quiet you down. 

Peter looked down at you with wide, pleading eyes. He shook his head silently, motioning once more for you to remain quiet. Your face scrunched in confusion as you looked up at him, bottom lip trembling. 

“Y-you don’t want my kisses?”

Peter stopped, eyes widening even more as he caught sight of your distress. Peter's heart broke as he saw the hot, fresh tears springing up in your eyes and the look of utter rejection plastered all over your features. Had you been even slightly more sober you would’ve seen the guilty look in his eyes as he realized just how his small action came across to you, but you were too wrapped up in your own feelings to notice. Those few tears had turned almost instantly to full-blown sobs, and you were now louder than ever. 

“No no no no, that’s not true. You know I love your kisses sweetheart,” Peter whispered urgently. He glanced nervously down the hallway, praying silently that you hadn’t woken anyone and that you wouldn’t get any louder. You scoffed, oblivious to his fear and overwhelmed with that kind of indignation that only drunk people could seem to muster up. 

“You don’t!” you exclaimed loudly, shoving yourself out of Peter’s arms in protest. “You don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t pull away!”

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Y/N/N,” Peter murmured desperately, hands reaching out to try and connect with yours. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I just don’t want to wake anyone up or get you in trouble.”

You slapped his hands away, thoroughly enraged and too stubborn to listen to his reasoning. 

“That's not even true, you just hate me! Go ahead and just say it!” you shouted. Peter’s eyebrows shot up practically to the ceiling, complete shock written across his face. 

“What?! No no no no, Y/N/N that’s absolutely not true, you have to know that's not t--”

Peter’s pleading was abruptly cut off as the lights above the two of you flicked on and the entire common room flooded with light. Peter froze, hands still held upwards in defense as he faced you, too scared to turn and face the source of the light. 

    “Underoos?” he heard Mr. Stark’s confused voice from behind him. “Y/N? What the hells going on?”

    Peter swallowed thickly before turning to see the entirety of the team gathered in the doorway, all clearly having woken up to the commotion you were causing. If he wasn’t so completely petrified he might have found their various choices of sleepwear interesting. But he didn’t exactly have time to think about how Thor was wearing large fluffy pajama bottoms embroidered with storm clouds right now. Especially as he caught sight of your dads’ expressions. Arms crossed and clearly fuming with anger, Bucky was sending Peter a glare that could only be described as murderous as he appraised the scene in front of him, and Steve looked to be thoroughly confused. Clearly the slower of the two to wake, he was standing near his husband with sleep-ruffled hair and an expression like he was struggling to process the fact that he was even out of bed, much less the scene in front of him.

    “Yes Parker, please do explain why my daughter is crying in the middle of the night and what you’re even doing here at all,” Bucky barked. 

    “Hey-- uh -- Y/N she was...I-I was just trying to--” Peter stuttered, unable to really muster much of a response. He always thought that people were exaggerating when they said they were paralyzed by fear, but he knew that in this moment that they were right. It felt like he was trapped under the terrifying weight of your dad’s menacing look -- sheer panic swirled and clouded his thoughts, and he felt his mind go completely blank. 

    You, even though you’d been livid with him mere moments ago, seemed to sense his discomfort and threaded your fingers through Peter’s in a show of support. Peter felt his breath hitch just the slightest bit at your affectionate response, the crushing weight on his chest lifting just a little. He glanced at you quickly, sending you a look of appreciation as he squeezed your hand gently. You grinned upwards, all resentment clearly forgotten. 

    “Ahem,” Tony cleared his throat amusedly. Peter felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassment filling his chest and mixing with the fear that lingered there. You, however, seemed completely oblivious to the severity of the situation.

    “Hi guys. Nice jammies Thor,” you grinned sweetly at the team, waving your free hand in greeting. Several people chuckled, evidently amused at your behavior, and Thor yawned widely before shooting you a thumbs up. Your dads seemed to be the only ones still angry, Steve having to seemingly caught on to what was happening. 

    “Y/N Barnes-Rodgers, what on earth is going on here?” he asked harshly, arms coming to rest across his chest. Rather inappropriately and to Peter's extreme discomfort, you giggled loudly instead of an appropriate response. 

"You look so funny with your hair like that," you giggled uncontrollably, the hand not currently entwined with Peter's resting on your stomach as you laughed. Peter closed his eyes, unable to physically stand the awkward tension surrounding the two of you any longer. 

"Kid, level with me. Is she shit-faced?" Sam's amused and slightly shocked voice broke through the silence. Peter's eyes shot open, mouth agape as Bucky's glare deepend and his face turned a concerning shade of red. Steve, much like Peter, simply looked appalled at the accusation. His expression shifted from one of denial, to rage, profound sadness, and finally back to angry as he came to terms with what was going on. Peter opened and closed his mouth several times, wishing for nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole, when his attention was suddenly pulled back to you. 

"I think I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled, face rapidly paling and both hands flying towards your mouth. Peter's hands were instantly on you, resting over the small of your back and rubbing gently as concern washed over him. You spared him a single wide-eyed glance before darting down the hall. 

"Oh my little дорогая," Wanda hummed sympathetically as she breezed past Peter to follow you. Nat wasn't far behind her, patting Peter fondly on the back as she too disappeared into your room. 

"Parker." 

Peter gulped audibly before slowly turning to face the rest of the team. Sam and Clint were laughing uncontrollably while Thor simply chuckled beside them, Tony had a gleam in his eye that betrayed his utter amusement at the situation, and now both of your dads were glaring at Peter with so much sheer force he was honestly surprised he wasn't already dead. 

"If I were you I'd start explaining. Now." Steve addressed him firmly, leaving no room for discussion. Peter sighed again and started to tell the entire story of how he'd gotten to this point. His hands were shaking the entire time and he was honestly pretty proud that he didn't physically pass out under Bucky's rage-filled stare. 

By the end, Sam and Clint had all but fallen to the floor they were laughing so hard. Thor was nowhere to be seen, having left the room after he lost interest in the topic at hand. Bruce had sent Peter a compassionate look before he too left, presumably heading back to bed now that he knew there was no immediate threat. 

Well, to anyone except Peter that is. 

Though Steve had left mid-way through Peter's recounting, Bucky hadn't moved an inch. He was still standing stoically in front of Peter, eyes dark with anger and distrust, arms crossed tightly against his chest. Peter couldn't take his eyes off your dad's metal arm, fretting silently about the many possibilities the lethal appendage held. 

"So let me get this straight," Tony interrupted Peter's mental musings. "You're saying Y/N snuck out to see some concert and didn't ask you to go with her, but then called you because she was too drunk to get home on her own?"

Peter nodded fervently. 

"That...makes perfect sense to me," Tony shrugged, looking over at Bucky. Turning his icy stare towards Tony for a moment, Bucky's arms finally fell to his sides, fists clenched in anger. 

"No it doesn't." he growled. He jammed his finger accusingly towards Peter. "He's lying."

Tony rolled his eyes, but before he could reply he was cut off by Steve popping his head out of your room.

"Buck. We've got a problem." 

"Yeah, I know," Bucky scoffed, eyes never leaving Peter's face as he replied. 

"Bucky." Steve snapped. "I mean an actual problem."

Brows raised in surprise, Bucky paused only momentarily before rushing over to his husband. Peter shared a quick glance with Tony, worry coating his features as he followed Bucky into your room. 

"Come on doll, open up," Bucky was pleading through your bathroom door. Steve was standing just to the side of him, fingers threading tiredly through his blonde locks. Peter felt his brows furrow in confusion. 

"No!" 

"Nat, what's going on?" he asked quietly as you continued to argue with your dads through the door. Nat smiled knowingly.

"She's locked us all out. Says she won't talk to anyone except you wonderkid."

Peter felt his face flush bright red at the implication, and the butterflies that'd been laid dormant for so long fluttered hopefully in his stomach. They were quickly squashed as he caught your dad staring daggers at him, and he gulped once more. 

"Peter, would you mind?" Steve asked tiredly. Peter's eyes widened and he physically turned to see if there was another Peter he could possibly be talking to. 

"M-me?" he squeaked. Steve nodded, and Peter cautiously approached your bathroom door before knocking lightly with shaky hands. "Y/N/N? It's me, can you open the door please?"

"Petey?" you mumbled through the door. Peter's heart felt heavy at the way you sounded so small. It was clear you'd been crying more, and his hands twitched with the desire to comfort you. 

"Yeah it's me angel," he murmured. "Can you come out? Please?"

You hesitated for a moment, and Peter would've sworn the everyone in the room was holding their breath waiting for your response. 

"No."

Peter sighed, deflating like a balloon and leaning his forehead against the door.  

"Come on sweetheart, Peter's here now like you wanted. Can you please unlock the door?" Steve pleaded. 

"No! You guys are just gonna make him leave as soon as I'm out, and I don't want him to go!" you protested stubbornly. Bucky clapped his hands over his face in exasperation.

"Doll you know the rules, your...friend isn't allowed to stay overnight," Bucky retaliated firmly, glaring at Peter once more. 

"Then I'm not coming out!". 

Peter groaned in disbelief, head banging lightly against the door. This was not how he thought his night would be going. Or rather morning? He realized suddenly that he didn't even know what time it was at this point. All he did know was that you and your dad were two of the most stubborn people on the planet, and he might be stuck outside your bathroom door for the next few days if one of you didn't relent soon. His eyelids grew heavy at the mere thought, entire face pressing against the door in total exhaustion. 

"Okay," Steve interjected, hands raised in surrender. "Okay fine. Y/N, Peter can stay."

"What?!"

Both Peter's confused squeak and Bucky's roar immediately echoed one another, the two of them flabbergasted by Steve's concession.

"Steve. Absolutely not. No way," Bucky growled, eyes wide as he shot his husband a look of pure shock. Steve frowned at him, crossing his arms defiently across his broad chest. 

"Buck. It's late, I'm too tired to deal with this now. They can stay on the couch, in the living room that way we can keep an eye on them," Steve replied. Bucky gaped at him, eyes travelling between him and Peter as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "I mean for God's sake look at Peter! The poor kid's about to fall asleep standing up!"

"Hmm?" Peter hummed, too tired to lift his head much from the door. Natasha clicked her tongue, pity written all over her face. Bucky crossed his arms too, face dark as he contemplated things. After a period of tense silence, he finally sighed, arms falling to his sides. 

“Fine,” he growled. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“Okay,” Tony chirped, clapping his hands together and startling the half-asleep Peter. “So it's settled! You hear that Y/N? Spiderling can stay, so you can open up now.”

Peter glanced hopefully towards the door, praying silently for you to finally see reason and come out. The entire team stared for a few moments, everyone wordlessly waiting for you to respond. Slowly the sound of the lock clicking open broke the silence of the room, and Peter outwardly sighed in appreciation. You cautiously opened the door, innocent wide eyes scanning the room before you stepped out fully to sheepishly face the group. 

Your face was still paler than usual, though it was worlds better than the white-and-green color you’d been as you ran away. There were stains from your tears marring the soft skin of your cheeks, and your eyes sparkled with a look of such exhaustion and guilt that it took Peter’s breath away a little. Instinctually, he opened his arms for you and you gratefully stepped into the fold of his embrace. Burying your face into Peter’s chest like a little kid, you rubbed your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt and hummed lowly in comfort. Peter’s face rested lightly atop your head, eyes closing once more as a synchronized wave of exhaustion overcame you both. 

“Barf. Alright, seeing as this little show seems to be over with now, I’m going back to sleep,” Tony’s loud chuckle broke the silence of the room once more. The rest of the team muttered their agreement, everyone filtering out as they said their goodbyes. You detangled yourself from Peter, sleepily murmuring something about changing into your pajamas. Peter took it upon himself to leave your room then, not wanting to push your dads’ patience any further than you already had for the evening. Steve too left the room, clapping Peter on the back as he set out in the direction of his room and quietly thanking him. 

It wasn’t long before Peter found himself lying on the common room’s couch, covered in a mountain of blankets with you wrapped around his body and sleeping soundly. You were sprawled out on practically top of him, arms and legs tangled around him in such a way that he wasn’t entirely sure where your limbs started and his ended. You were lying facing one another with your arms and legs clung around his middle, fingers wound tightly into the small hairs on the back of his head, and face pressed into his chest. His own arms were wrapped securely around your body, still slightly afraid that you would fall off the side of the plush sofa even though you’d clearly locked onto him on your own. Despite the somewhat strange positioning of your bodies, Peter felt immense comfort from your presence; the butterflies in his stomach were dancing around joyfully as he sleepily appraised your features and tried his best to commit them to memory. Your face was adorably squashed a little due to the way you pressed it into his chest, and Peter couldn’t help but find you incredibly cute in this moment. Even with the clear line of drool running from your mouth pooling on his chest. 

Yawning quietly, Peter snuggled a little deeper into your hold and hummed happily when he felt your sleeping limbs pull him in closer. Finally ready to put this day to rest, he closed his eyes contentedly. He was nearly asleep, breaths slowing to an even pace when suddenly all the hairs on his body stood upright. Heart racing, he scanned the darkened room worriedly, wondering what could cause his senses to go haywire all of the sudden. When he could find no immediate sources of danger he almost chalked his body’s response up to a state of pure sleep-deprivation, and he was just about to settle in once more when he saw it. 

A figure, dark and hidden in the shadows of the room that had only the nearly rising sun as a source of light, sitting near the windows and watching the two of you. Peter’s heart rate immediately picked up speed as he willed his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Slowly, the figure came into focus. 

It was your dad. 

Bucky was sitting stoically in a chair, arms crossed as he sullenly watched the two of you. He caught Peter’s frantic gaze on him and smiled darkly at his daughter’s boyfriend. Motioning for him to continue, Bucky settled back into his chair with a threatening and somewhat gleeful expression on his face. Peter swallowed thickly, snapping his eyes away from the super-soldier and scrunching them closed as his heart thudded against his ribacge. You stretched out a little in your sleep -- completely oblivious to your dad’s presence as you happily cuddled into Peter’s embrace. Peter laid like that for an immeasurable amount of time, heart still pounding wildly and body frozen against yours. He felt paralyzed under the weight of your dad’s stare and wondered internally what he’d ever done to deserve the position he was in now. 

At least he was used to going without sleep, because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting any anytime soon. 

Taglist: @rororo06​

[anastasiabeaverhousen87]

Fever Dreams part 2

NOTE: Ok I know i always say this, but once I'm done typing its late at night and I'm beat and falling asleep on my laptop. I’ll correct the errors tomorrow. but I promised Julia I would update this tonight. hope you like it y’all.

__________________________________________________________

You wake up a bit disoriented, you feel warm again, but the good kind of warm. It’s dark outside and you close your eyes but take a deep breath and you know you are curled up against Kara. You bury yourself into her warmth listening to Kara steady heartbeat. You feel groggy but you can feel movement on your other side. Alex

 Alex: “Is she okay?”

Kara presses her lips to your temple and knows you are not as hot as before. You tend to move during the night when you are sick, so you just try to find Kara’s embrace.

 Kara: “Yeah, she is definitely way cooler to the touch, I think she is just trying to cling to me because she is now feeling cold” - Kara speaks in a very soft and low tone trying not to disrupt your sleep.

 You feel a hand on your cheek and temple, definitely Alex. Her hands are always cool and soft a touch you can distinguish immediately. Still you are more asleep and awake, and you don’t like being awaken before you have to, you grunt in your sleep and move further into Kara trying to get more skin to skin contact. Kara seems to understand and adjusts you so you are lying below her collarbone and her loose sleep top is moved a little you can rest your face into her warm skin.  She then grabs your waist and pulls you closer and begins her soothing patting down your spine. You give a content sigh and you drift off once more.

 Alex: “yes definitely cooler to the touch, and for the way she is clinging to you she is indeed feeling a tad cold”

 Kara nods and leans into y/n head to smell her hair. “you think she is sick or something? She was so hot Alex and it happened so fast” – Kara softly whispers to Alex

 Alex: “No, I don’t think so. I noticed she was a little flush in the face while we were at the DEO, she was stressed out and worry about us. I think this is the result of psychogenic fever, a stress-related condition which causes a spike in the core temperature. We need her calm and relax; she may be clinger to us due to the fact we are the ones that caused her stress. Let her sleep, its still quite early. If you feel she starts to sweat, or her heart rate increases wake me up. I have an alarm to check on her if her temperature rises by then she will need another suppository.”

 Kara just nods and a lone tear runs from her eye into y/n hair “ I just hate that she is hurting because of what I do” –

 Alex: “I know sweetie, so do I. she is okay and will be okay. she cares too much and because of it, it hits her harder. She just needs sleep, keep her calm and relax and she will bounce back in a few days. I promise Kara” – Alex gives a reassuring squeeze to Kara’s arm.

 y/n moves again, making the Danvers know they need to stop their ramblings. All three Danvers ladies fall back asleep for a few more hours.

 Kara wakes up feeling her skin a bit damp, y/n is sweating, and her temperature spiked once more.

Kara: “Alex. Hey  Alex. Wake up ” –

 Alex: “I’m up, I’m up-“ Alex groggily wakes up and turns the light on and faces her sisters.

 Kara: “she feels warm and she is sweating”

 Alex grabs the thermometer and waits for it to beep. 100.7 F

 Alex: “its high but no worrisome. Lets try to lower her temperature with a cold compress” –

 Kara nods and hold y/n gently while trying to make her lay with her back in the mattress. But y/n is having none of that and clings harder to Kara.

 Kara: “sshh …sshh little one. You are getting hot again, we need to lower your temperature”.

 Alex: “keep holding her Kara, I’ll get the water and cloths.  You just stay with her; we need her calm.”

 Kara just holds y/n closer and reassumes her soothing patting down her spine and places a soft kiss to her temple. Just providing the comforting touch y/n is craving from her and also glad she doesn’t have to let go oh her baby koala sister just yet.

 Kara: “Im so sorry you feel bad my little munchkin” –

 y/n: “that’s okay. I have you here with me. I’m good” -you mumble into her skin.

 Lena walks into the room, carrying a few items with her and places the into the nightstand.

 Lena: “good morning beautiful ladies. Good morning love” Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s lip and leans down and touches your face tenderly on your cheek and temple “Good morning sweet girl. Alex told me you woke up a bit warm. She just got a call from Jon and I told her I could bring the things you need . She told me you need to drink this y/n. it’s a fever reducer. And a glass of water. Then Kara here are the damp cloths and water”

 Lena pours a red liquid into a measured little cup, Kara moves you a little so you can take the medicine properly.

 Y/n: “good morning Lena” – you give an adorable yawn and take the medicine from Lena and drink the red liquid and grimace at the flavor “cherry flavor my ass, that is awful”

 Lena and Kara chuckle at your antics but they feel relief at seeing you in better spirits.

 Kara : “I know , but I bet its better this way. Don’t you think. Kara jokes a little patting you ass cheek”.

 y/n: “hey hey no making fun the ill. That’s rude “– you once again turn into a koala on top of Kara to continue to sleep. When you remember something- “Lena, Kara told you were making chocolate chip pancakes” – you pout adorably towards Lena and give her your best puppy eyes.

 Lena-. “sweet girl you don’t need to make those eyes. She chuckles- I will gladly make them for you honey. – she softly touches your face and hairline. I’ll go start on that while you stay here with Kara so she can cool you down a little before breakfast”

 You yawn and rub at your eye. “Okay, thank you. I’ll sleep for a little while” – you are practically asleep once again.

 Lena exist the room while Kara starts to hum a song. She adjusts you on her chest and torso. And runs the cool cloth down your cheeks, arms and wrists. You feel goosebumps form in your arms and try to move a little feeling a bit chilly.

 Kara: “ssh baby. Just relax and close your eyes. If you feel a little a little chilly means its working. Just try to sleep for a little while and I will wake you up as soon as the pancakes are ready”

 You close your eyes and barely hanging on the brink of consciousness “pinky promise?”

 Kara: “pinky promise munchkin.”

 Kara continues to use the cloth against y/n warm skin. After a while Kara notices the body on top of her is cooler once again and the goosebumps in her arms will help her to reduce the temperature. Kara set the cloth down the nightstand and starts to run her hand down y/n spine. Making small and broad circles all over the back. Just enjoying the feel of her baby sister against her, this is not just calming for y/n, this is also very reassuring and comforting to Kara. The blonde super hero closes her eyes while continues with her soothing touches and listens to her baby sisters steady heartbeat.

 After a while Alex returns to the room and wakes Kara and y/n for breakfast. Which is just a quick affair of pancakes, cholate chips and lots of maple syrup. Everyone eats their breakfast. Alex was needed at the DEO and Jon was arriving in a few minutes to take her in and she told her sister she would be back soon. And to contact her the moment Kara noticed anything wrong with y/n. Lena was also needed at L-Corp and left mentioning too that anything that if they needed anything to call her emergency line.

 Kara was more than capable of taking care of her baby sister. y/n was practically asleep on the table after three pancakes. Kara picked her up and brought her to the couch, where they lay down, y/n on top of Kara finding the perfect spot.

 You were getting fussy and grabbing at your sister’s pajama top. Kara moves you a little so she can once again open her top bottoms and you relax against her and sigh in content.

  A couple of hours later Alex returns to the apartment and finds Kara and y/n still on the couch. Kara watching a movie with very low volume and y/n passed out on top of her.

 Alex: “Hi sweetie. I’m back. Was she asleep the entire time? – the red headed woman runs her fingers through y/n hair and places a kiss to her cheek and forehead checking for a fever.

 Kara: “pretty much. Woke up for a minute like an hour ago, I gave her a little Pedialyte she was thirsty and passed out again.”-Kara says in a very low voice while running her hand down y/n back.

 Alex: “She is going to be sleepy most of the day. Is the combination of the fever and the medication and well, that she was tired and now she is able to relax completely. Do you want me to take her if you need to move a little?”

 Kara: “Naah I’m good. I like holding my little koala. She is so sweet, well even more when she is not feeling good. Why don’t you sit and rest for a while? You too look tired too. Come one, plenty of space on the couch” – the blonde woman indicates Alex to sit down.

 Alex does sits down next to her sisters, grabs y/n feet and places them on her lap while she finds a good spot. As soon as she is sited, she feels sleep to pull at her. “Ok I’ll sleep for a bit; we do need to talk to y/n once she is better and the fever is gone. I also think we need to come up with a plan to avoid getting her into this same situation”

 Kara: “Yes we can do that. But let’s just rest for a bit and we can revise this a little later. You need sleep and this little munchkin here is out like a light. Lets just enjoy the peace and quiet for a moment”- the blonde woman says to her big sister with a warm smile while holding y/n close to her and enjoying her gentle snores and warm body against her.

 Kara doesn’t receive a response, when she looks up she finds her older sister completely passed out already. looks down at her baby sister places a soft kiss to her head. The blonde smiles and closes her eyes too. Might as well indulge in a little nap time. they still have things to talk about but all that can wait, right now they are together they have each other. Stronger together. and with that thought in mind the blonde woman drifts off to sleep.