#but for now I'm gonna see if i can sleep off this migraine so i can make myself well deserved soup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

Note

I REALLY wanna see Johnny get mad! Like white hot angry at reader. Don’t know what/how it happened but Johnny’s gonna make all of reader’s poor holes suffer🥺

Maybe Simon gets surprised and turned on by his pup’s newfound aggressiveness

3.6k pwp soap drabble 4 u (cw for referenced burning building, angry sex, some light mutual degradation/objectification, and voyeurism since ghost watches)

You fume silently, face hot with rage while you and Soap walk side by side behind Ghost down the base hallways. There's a tension at the base of your neck that you just know is going to become a migraine if you don't get some medicine soon, and your bones ache from going too long without sleep.

Soap's somehow even stiffer beside you, the distance between you two small but intentional. Usually he's impossible to pry off of you, always brushing against you and looking for more physical contact, but since you landed he's kept at least half a foot between you two at all times.

Fine by you. You don't want him touching you right now anyway.

The silence is thick as Ghost leads you two to his room, his shoulders loose and relaxed.

He's got no reason to be tense, you suppose. He's not the one who had a massive disagreement on the field, who had to drag his squadmate back from a blazing fire and deal with his bitching instead of his thanks.

Just the memory of it makes you scowl.

Ghost leads the two of you into his room in rare silence, though it's only rare because usually you and Johnny would already be teasing or flirting at this point. But you don't bother now, not with your anger so fresh in your mind.

Ghost is the only one to get settled once Johnny closes the door behind you. You two stand on opposite sides of the doorframe, both too tense to do much but stew in your own righteous anger, and Ghost starts to get dressed down into something more comfortable.

He lets the two of you stay quiet until he's fully changed into a tank top and sweats, no boxers then sits on the bed with an overly loud sigh.

"You two even gonna look at each other?"

Your lip curls as you glance at Johnny from the corner of your eyes. "I have nothing to say to him."

"'S not what I asked."

Your cheek twitches and you bite your tongue, rolling a sharp canine over it. "Honestly, Simon, I don't even want to see him right now."

Johnny scoffs, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and nearly stomps to your side, leaning in front of you to try and force eye contact. "Oh, really? Ye can't even look at me, huh? Had no problem lookin' earlier, when you were draggin' me away from my goddamn mission."

You want to growl, you want to rake your nails down his face and scream about what a fool he is, what a jackass, and you want to make him remember.

Some of your ire must shine through in your expression, and Johnny mirrors it, eyes sparking as he straightens and stands diagonally from you, chest nearly brushing your shoulder.

"Dragging you away from your death, more like," you sneer.

"Wasn't your place," he bites back, moving forward enough that you can feel the heat of him even through all your layers. "You aren't my fuckin' CO and I'm not yours - wasn't any of your business how I chose to execute my orders."

"It is when you chose to do it in the most lethal way possible! Fuck, MacTavish, had you taken half a second and listened to me-"

"Oh, that's all it woulda taken? Just had to shut my pretty lips and listen to you, jump before you even say how high? Newsflash, lass, you don't get to make those decisions."

"And you do?"

"In this case? Yeah, you're fuckin' right I do. Price said drag the man out, alive, and that's what I was doing."

"You ran into a burning building!"

"Under orders from our CO!"

"You know damn well that's not what he meant, Sergeant, cut the shit. The orders were to bring him back alive, not kill yourself in the process!"

"That's the job, Sergeant. You do whatever it takes to fulfill your orders."

You're both panting as he snarls the words, nose to nose and eye to eye, teeth bared in rage that feels almost primal. His close brush with death, the way you'd had to tackle him to keep him from running after the damn target, leaves you raw and unsteady. Had you been any weaker, any less filled by adrenaline and panic and something deeply possessive, you know Soap would've thrown you off and gotten himself killed. You were hardly able to hold him down until the screaming stopped as it was.

You take as deep a breath as you can with your heart racing, and reach up to wrap the collar of Johnny's shirt tight in your fist, dragging him so close that your noses brush, hot breaths shared.

"You don't get to fucking leave me." You shoot a glance over Johnny's shoulder, to where Ghost sits comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed. "Leave us. I won't let you."

It's the last sentence that has him bristling, that ruins your chance of a settled argument.

The only person who lets Soap do anything is Ghost. The two of you listen to your Lieutenant with no questions, no doubt, no hesitations, but the same doesn't go for your fellow Sergeant. Since the 141 had formed, you and Soap have been fighting for dominance over one another, both of you determined to establish your control of the other like Ghost has for both of you.

The insinuation that you would let Soap do anything isn't something he'll let slide.

Hours later, fucked raw and sated, you can admit to yourself that the wording was slightly intentional. But now, with the fresh wound of Soap's close call with death still stinging in your subconscious, you only mean it as a way to push his anger to the level yours has been at for hours now.

"Let me?" He rumbles, muscles relaxing as he steps forward enough to press his chest to yours, head ducked low so all you can see is Johnny. "You don't let me do shit, lass. Couldn't stop me if you tried."

You can't help the way your lips quirk up into a humorless smile, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Had a pretty easy time of it earlier, MacTavish. Had you pinned and writhing under me, like a bitch-"

Before you can finish your taunt, you find yourself pinned to the door, a mouth covering yours.

Johnny's teeth are sharp against your lips as he nips at you, leaving behind a sting and a throb. You dig your nails into his shoulders, raking them down his arms and rumbling in dissatisfaction when his clothes keep him from feeling anything.

You bite back as you push at the hem of his shirt, desperate to get your hands on him and make him hurt. You trace your fingers over his abs as you get his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him down to your height and smirking at his glare.

You don't kiss so much as fight with lips instead of fists, there's no affection or softness between the two of you right now. You're nothing but your anger, but your desperation, and deep down your fear. You cling to Johnny with something verging on desperation, bite and scratch to make him feel even a bit of the pain you had at such a close call with death.

He leans almost his entire weight into yours to keep you pinned against the door, but you only have to shove at his shoulders a few times for him to get the hint and move backwards.

His lips never leave yours as you walk him back to the bed, his hands coming up to grip your thighs as he falls back and keeps you on top of him. You taste the slightest tang of iron as you shift your knees up next to his hips, squeezing his sides between your thighs and his tongue between your teeth.

"You gonna ride me?" He pants when you pull away for a breath of air, your hips working over the tent in his pants. "Think you're in charge, bonnie?"

You bare your teeth at him, grinding your core against the tent in his pants. “I’m not the one on my back, MacTavish.”

His smile is all teeth as he bucks his hips into yours, knocking you off balance so you’re forced to brace your hands on either side of his head. “I don’t need to be on top to keep you on a leash.”

It’s all too easy to hook your fingers in his throat mic - his collar. His pupils blow wide when you tug harshly enough to pull his head off the mattress, his hips following as he moans and grinds you down onto him with a bruising grip on your thighs.

“Down,” you smirk, leaning your weight back and forcing his hips to the bed, grinding your hips. “‘S my turn, Johnny. Gonna use you ‘til you’re wrung dry.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, then rests on his bottom lip instead of settling behind his teeth. You can’t resist the urge to lean down and lick over his lips, covering them in your own spit and groaning when he pulls you back into a proper kiss.

Despite your hand around his throat and your weight on top of his, you’re both equally in control as you strip the other. You can’t be bothered to wrestle his wrists to the bed, far preferring to let him paw your shirt and pants off while you tear the seams in his indecently tight shirt.

You only have the patience to get his pants to his knees, unwilling to help him kick them off for full mobility. Instead you grind yourself against his hard length, the soaked gusset of your underwear dragging wonderfully over both his cock and your clit.

You shift your hand on his neck so your palm is resting on his Adam’s apple, giving him just enough pressure to stay flattened to the bed.

He nearly growls when you push, the head of his cock getting caught in your panties and brushing the crease of your thigh. “Fuck, bonnie, get it on with.”

You blink down at him, cocking an unimpressed brow and shifting your hips so he slips between your folds, tucking your underwear to the side with your free hand. “You’re not in charge right now, MacTavish. I’m on top.”

“Only cause I’m lettin’ ya,” he pants, hips twitching as he tries to find your hole, tries to find a hole to sink into.

You lean down just far enough to bite the air in front of his nose, all feral rage and sexual frustration as you let yourself sit on his cock, holding him still beneath you. “You don’t let me do shit, I do whatever the fuck I want to. And right now, I want to ride you ‘til you stop fucking talking.”

You press your lips to his before he can bite back the response you see waiting on his tongue, letting your hips move in the way that feels best for you as you lick over his teeth.

Johnny’s always loved making out. When Ghost keeps him locked up, or he’s just not allowed to fuck you, he’ll happily spend hours with your lips glued together, dry humping each other and swapping spit. You can’t even count the number of times he’s come in his pants while thrusting against your hip or your side, driven over the edge by just a kiss.

You take advantage of that now, keeping one hand on his throat and the other circling the base of his throbbing cock so you can line yourself up above him. He’s far too distracted with your lips and tongue to remember he could tug you down on him at any moment, could flip the two of you with hardly any effort at all.

Despite the complete lack of prep, your body takes Johnny easily, the familiar stretch making you moan as you sink down onto him with one smooth movement. You blink open wet eyes just in time to see Johnny’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when your ass rests against him, his cock buried inside of you.

You don’t let yourself rest for long, though most days you love to just feel the weight of either of your boys inside of you. But that current of anger is still pulsing beneath your skin, and all the hot, sweat slick contact between you and Johnny only makes you feel more desperate.

Your pace is merciless, for both him and yourself. Your knees and thighs scream as you slam yourself to the base of Johnny’s cock, making sure you pull off nearly to the tip on every thrust. Without a hand around his throat, you’d have lost your balance on the first thrust.

Johnny’s pulse thunders against your fingers, so fast and so harsh that you swear you can ever see your fingertips twitching against his throat. His breaths are quick and erratic, and you can’t help but subconsciously match his breathing with your faces as close together as they are.

“So fucking good,” you moan, rolling your hips as you lift yourself off of him, dragging the head of his cock along your walls. Your voice cracks when he bucks his hips up, and you’re relieved that he’s already too blissed out to notice, lost in the tight vice of your cunt.

“Yeah?” Johnny pants, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth when you pull away fully. “Stuff you just right, yeah, lass?”

You bite your tongue against an agreement, some deep part of you that’s not quite drunk on pleasure yet unwilling to give Johnny that kindness. Instead you shift your weight, so that your hand is more cupping Johnny’s jaw and putting pressure on his head instead of his neck, letting you really push him down and get the proper leverage to fuck yourself on his cock.

“Perfect fucking-” you shudder against the words, moan when he rubs just over your g-spot and repeating the same motion with your hips again and again. “Perfect fucking toy, so nice to ride.”

The sound Johnny makes is purely animalistic, torn between anger and desperation, something rough and low in his throat. You can feel the rumble of it through your hand and can’t help but moan in return, finally nearing your peak even as your legs continue to burn.

Neither of you speaks as you ride him, your head hanging low so you’re eye-level with his nipples and focused entirely on your own pleasure. The way your muscles scream at you only fills you with more need, more desperation, and the pain pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit grinds just right over the rough patch of Soap’s pubic hair, soaking it in your juices and covering him in slick.

You reach your peak with gasping breaths, nearly going cross-eyed as you use Johnny entirely for your own pleasure, using him as nothing more than something to hold yourself up on and a toy to ride. Your muscles go completely lax as your pleasure overwhelms you, leaving you slumped against his muscular chest as you ride out the orgasm with small rolls of your hips.

Johnny’s still rock hard inside of you as you come down, his grip on your thighs tight enough to bruise. Your hand has slipped from underneath his collar to the mattress next to his face, and you don’t have the energy to push yourself up and away, to deny him like you’d intended.

Your lungs feel too small as you try to take deep gasping breaths, only managing a few before your lungs start hitching. Johnny’s chest rises and falls quickly beneath your head, his heart pounding beneath your ear.

You don’t have time to brace yourself before you’re flipped onto your stomach, face down on the mattress.

One moment you’re floating in post-orgasmic bliss, letting your body clench down on Johnny and milk him, the next moment you’re on your knees with your back forced into a deep arch, that same cock pounding into you like a machine.

Your groan is bone deep when you finally lift your head enough to breathe, eyes rolled heavenward as your body tries its best to adjust to the harsh treatment.

“Show you a fucking toy,” Johnny snarls from over your shoulder, his voice sounding distant beneath the blood rushing through your ears. “Think ye can just treat me like fucking nothing, get yerself off then take a fucking nap? Nah, yer gonna take what ye fucking deserve.”

The thickening of Johnny’s accent has you gushing around him, your sensitive channel clenching down so hard that you’re surprised he can pull out at all.

Johnny’s hand wraps in your hair when you try to let your head fall forward again, yanking you back with enough strength to leave you yowling at the strain on your neck.

“Don’t fucking hide,” he hisses, landing a sharp slap on the meat of your ass. “Think ye can just shove yer head in the sand? Let me fuckin’ hear you, lass, sing f’r me.”

“Fu-uck you,” you manage to groan, syllables interrupted on every thrust, your voice cracking. “You’re not- fuck, Johnny, don’t have to listen to you.”

You can practically hear the way he gnashes his teeth over your shoulder, can perfectly envision the angry snarl on his face at your lack of submission.

“Ye will. Gonna teach ye a fuckin’ lesson about yer place.”

You try your best to rear up, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare as best you can despite the grip on your hair. “My place? Who the hell do you think- oh fuck, fuck, Johnny, you can’t- goddamnit-”

“Can’t even get a goddamn word out.” Even from your terrible angle you can see that his smile is mean. “Think ye can be in charge when ye can’t even finish a sentence? Fuckin’ fool.”

You nearly shriek when he shoves your head down to the mattress, clawing fruitlessly at anything in front of you. You only freeze when you feel flesh give way underneath your nails, the hard muscles of a thick thigh under your palm.

You can just barely angle your head enough to glance up and see Simon looking down at you, but you can’t manage to see anything past his general shape with the way Soap is trying to shove you inside the mattress.

Ghost’s hand comes to rest on your head, and when you lean into him he pushes Johnny’s fingers off.

“Watch it, pup,” he rumbles, and Johnny’s hips stutter behind you. “You’re already in trouble. Do you really wanna make it worse?”

Your self-righteous smirk is hidden in the sheets, but you can’t fully muffle your laugh when Johnny’s whines over your shoulder. The sound quickly morphs into a snarl, and he buries his teeth into your shoulder as his hips start to work again, the sound of his balls slapping against your soaked cunt obscene.

Johnny wraps his arms beneath your torso, hooking his hands on your shoulders so he can tug you into every thrust, moving his face up to nose at your throat. You feel covered by him, consumed by him, as he chases his own pleasure.

You don’t quite manage to get off before he empties himself inside you, but there’s a deep satisfaction in your bones that still lets you melt into him.

Johnny’s all heat and power at your back as he goes weak against you, and a small shove to his shoulder from Ghost has both of you resting on your sides, spooning with his cock still buried inside of you.

Your breaths sync with his quickly, matching the inhales and exhales you can feel against your neck and the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Your eyes flutter shut, relaxing into the bed and Johnny’s arms. You know that you’ll have to Talk later, about what he’d done and how you’d responded. But you know it’ll be an easier conversation after Ghost’s punishment, when all of your consciousness has eased a bit.

“There ya go,” you hear Ghost say, followed by a soft stroke over your head. “Exhausted yourselves, huh? Silly pups.”

You hum and Johnny rumbles behind you, burying his face more fully in your throat. You feel Ghost’s other hand pet over his mohawk, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“I guess you can nap.” Ghost sighs, like he’s doing you both a great favor. “You’ll both need all your energy for your punishment, anyway. Breakin’ damn near every rule in the book just cause you got a little worked up. What am I gonna do with the two of you?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, and the best Johnny manages is a small and plaintive whine. Ghost chuckles from above you, and you feel him lay in front of you, his arms wrapping around Johnny’s back and tugging you both to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just relax now, you’re alright.”

It’s easy to drift off, even if the heat is near suffocating and the stretch of Johnny’s cock verges on the edge of too much. You’re loose-limbed and sated, and Johnny’s safe beside you. There’s little else you could ever want, ever need, and you can’t be much more than grateful as you fall asleep between your men.

#ghoap x reader #nobody saw me complaining about this last night :)#bo writes #soap mactavish x reader #< since it's mostly him #btw i off and on contemplated making this reader male so if their vibes change throughout the fic thats why lmao #2 big military men fighting for dominance over one another while a Bigger & More Muscular partner watches knowing they're under his thumb..#yeah that's the stuff

1K notes · View notes

writingthroughmyass · 3 months ago

Text

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up.

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it.

Always. It's always like this.

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back.

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder.

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath.

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.”

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him.

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing.

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep.

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night.

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there.

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.”

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break.

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.”

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open.

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself.

Fuck.

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping.

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back.

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave.

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red.

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away.

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face.

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing.

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death.

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind.

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again.

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way.

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you.

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick.

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?”

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed.

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears.

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem?

“Fuck,” you croak.

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment.

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand.

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink.

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him.

He laughs before complying.

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now.

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right.

“So what exactly are you suggesting?”

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked.

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh.

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed.

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation.

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you.

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you.

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you.

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.”

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved.

You felt yourself feel a little calmer.

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.”

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice.

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily.

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom.

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next.

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered.

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up.

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind.

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm.

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together.

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you.

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?”

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.”

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back.

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were.

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact.

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were.

God… this is hell but also heaven.

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass.

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission.

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter.

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly.

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect.

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair.

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand.

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused.

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?”

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you?

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you.

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair.

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation.

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed.

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him.

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction.

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door.

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you.

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on.

“I'm done!” you called through the door.

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest.

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases.

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh.

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious.

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.”

He nods in understanding.

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.”

But you weren't honest with yourself.

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.”

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot.

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?”

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something?

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled.

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully.

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully.

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not.

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall.

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you.

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously.

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned.

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob.

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly.

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you.

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body.

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly.

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit.

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.”

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify.

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.”

“Ah, sure, give me a second.”

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders.

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him.

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good.

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare.

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you.

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones.

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second.

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs.

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly.

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off?

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it.

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now.

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly.

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid…

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice.

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?”

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now.

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly.

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

#logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine #Logan being cute and worried and caring uwu #I saw dp and wolverine and fell in love dont know why it took me seeing his hairy 55 year old abs for this to happen #I never crushed on this man during xmen but idk he fucking got to me in that movie ok #i stan a guilt ridden man with low self esteem put your penis inside me right now #ass writes stuff

326 notes · View notes

orchidniins · 8 months ago

Text

Forehead Kisses | Arthur Frederick

Summary: Arthur being the biggest green flag and taking care of his sick partner. Pairing: Arthur TV x gn!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 1.3k+ A/N: Short one to start the week. I have a ton of requests that I'm currently working on at the moment (honestly I'm a lot slower at writing than I thought) and I'm hoping to get out 2 longer fics next week (if work doesn't keep me busy that is) 🤞 Thanks anon for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As you step into your apartment, the door creaks softly behind you. You clutch your forehead, rubbing your temples in an attempt to ease your pounding migraine. Each step you take only worsens your body pains, leaving you feeling as though you've been hit by a truck. You shed your jacket and kick off your shoes, your body craves rest, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed. However, thoughts of the work you still have to complete nag at you, not wanting anything to pile up for the rest of the week.

Tossing your keys onto the table, the loud clatter disrupts the quietness of the room and you mentally curse yourself. You try to move as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Arthur, who had mentioned his plans to live stream for a few hours today. And despite your best efforts, an uncontrollable fit of coughing wracks your body, sending a sharp pain shooting up to your head again. You groan out in pain, unable to ignore the discomfort.

Arthur was in his office in the midst of a live stream, chatting away with his viewers when he heard you from the living room. Pausing the game he was playing, he swiftly excuses himself from the stream, taking off his headset and exits the room.

You glance towards his office, the soft click of his door catching your attention. Upon spotting your red nose and sunken eyes, he doesn't hesitate for a moment, swiftly hurrying to your side. "Hey, darling, are you okay?" His voice is laced with genuine concern as he assesses your condition.

"I just had a bit of a headache, so my boss sent me home early," you shrug as you explain, trying to downplay the situation. "It's probably nothing, maybe just because it's cold and windy outside—" Your sentence is cut short by cough, prompting Arthur's concerned gaze. "Why didn't you tell me before you left for work?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "How long have you been feeling like this?", his hands come to rest on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

"You see, this is why," you remark, sounding slightly exasperated. "Weren’t you going to stream today?" Arthur immediately responds, "Don't worry about that, darling," he assures you, still just as worried.

"I'm fine, babe," you quickly reassure him, not wanting to worry him any further, knowing he'll drop everything to take care of you. "I'm feeling better now that I'm home. I'm actually gonna get some work done." But before you can continue, Arthur shakes his head adamantly. "No work, absolutely not. You need to rest," he insists firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he gently guides you towards the bedroom.

“But…I don’t want stuff to pile up”, you attempt to protest. But Arthur remains resolute, his gaze soft as he looks at you caringly. "There are others who can handle your work for now," he insists gently. "Right now, you need rest, medicine, and some tea."

You look back at him with a small pout, hoping to sway him, "Off to bed you go," he says, as you two step into the bedroom.

"But Arthur," you begin, whining, but he cuts you off with a pointed look. "No, Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look.

Finally, you concede, a sigh escaping your lips. "Fine, I'll sleep for an hour, but promise me you'll wake me up so I can finish up work." Arthur simply nods, accepting the small victory.

After changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, you sit down on the bed "Just stay put, I'll get you the medicine," he says, but you attempt to get up from bed, insisting, "No, no, it's fine, Arthur, I'll get it myself." However, he gently pushes you back down. "No, I've got it,"

"But what about your stream?" you worry, but Arthur dismisses your concern with a laugh. "Just sleep, darling," he urges before leaving momentarily to fetch the medicine. Returning with water and the medicine, he hands them to you. "Here, take it," he instructs, watching as you comply before he helps you settle into bed.

"Do you need more pillows or a blanket?" Arthur asks, but you quickly decline, insisting that you're fine. "You just get back to your stream. Don't leave your viewers staring at an empty chair," you joke weakly. Arthur chuckles, "You just worry about getting better," before you interject, "It’s literally nothing, Arthur. I’ll be fine after a small nap. Just make sure you wake me up in an hour okay?" He responds with a sarcastic chuckle, “Yeah sure darling”, and you soon start to feel yourself getting drowsy. He brushes the hair out of your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Ignoring your request, Arthur allows you to sleep for as long as you need to, making sure to check up on you every 15 minutes or so. If he hears even a peep from the bedroom, he excuses himself from his stream to ensure you're okay or to make sure you've taken your medicine, sitting beside you until you drift back to sleep.

After another 30 minutes or so, Arthur decides to end his stream early, apologizing to his viewers before quietly slipping back into the bedroom to check on you. He walks up to you and sits beside your sleeping form, noticing a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. Gently grabbing a towel, he wipes it, causing you to slowly wake up. "Sorry, sorry, go back to sleep," he quickly apologizes, feeling slightly guilty for waking you. However, you decide to sit up in bed, “No it’s fine,” you say, giving him a small smile.

He smiles softly and leans in to kiss you on the forehead, gently rubbing the sleep marks on your face. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," you reply with a slight smile. "My head doesn’t hurt as much." Leaning to grab a tissue, you blow your nose before asking, "What time is it?"

"It's around 7 pm," Arthur responds gently. "You've been asleep for about 3 hours."

"You told me you’d wake me up," you start to say, your tone slightly whining.

"Yeah, but you are really sick," Arthur interjects gently. "You don't need more work, you need to rest."

"But—", you begin to speak, but then you cough, a sharp pain shooting to your head. You look at him sheepishly as you groan, finally accepting, "Yeah, fine. I’m sick."

Arthur nods understandingly as he laughs at your admission. "I'll be right back, let me get you some tea," he says, getting up before quietly leaving the room.

He comes back after a few minutes, finding you sitting with your eyes closed, leaning against the headboard. As he walks in with the tea and more medicine, setting them down on the nightstand, he sits on the bed next to you, causing the mattress to dip slightly and the movement wakes you up.

"Hey, I’ve got your tea," he says softly, offering you the cup. "It'll help with your throat."

You pick it up and take a sip, feeling the warmth trickle down your throat, soothing the ache.

You look at him with a small smile, "Thank you, baby."

Arthur smiles warmly, replying, "Anything for you, love. You know I always wanna take care of you."

"I love you," you say softly, placing your palm on his hand that was resting on the mattress.

"I love you too, more than anything," Arthur responds, his eyes filled with affection.

His hand comes up to gently rub your cheek. As he leans in for a kiss on the lips, your hand comes up to cover his mouth, saying, "No, you'll get sick too. And then I’ll have to take care of you, and you’re the clingy type when you’re sick."

He feigns hurt for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Okay, okay, forehead kisses only," he agrees, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, eliciting a smile from you as he leans and places a kiss on your forehead.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

#arthurtv #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv fics #arthurtv imagine #arthurtv fluff #arthur frederick #arthur frederick x reader #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick imagine #arthur frederick fluff #fluff #chaos crew #youtube #sick girlfriend #sick boyfriend

430 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Note

Hotch with a totally shy medical examiner!!! He always visits her although sometimes it would‘nt be necessary ... 🫣🫣 Hotch got a crushhhhhh !!

The team notices that Hotch seems to be injuring himself more and more now that Quantico has a medical wing installed. Because of a rather unfortunate incident on floor 4, where a woman had an allergic reaction and no one was able to find her an epipen in time, there's now a mini-clinic located just across the elevators on floor 5.

Hotch doesn't even bother notifying his team of where he's going this time. He simply barrels towards the glass doors that shield the BAU from the hallway outside, but JJ doesn't let him escape that easily.

"Hotch, is everything okay?"

She expects him to say that there's been some sort of emergency at Jack's school, that he needs to pick the boy up. But she shouldn't, she should have expected what must be the most frequent phrase out of his mouth in the past three weeks.

"Fine. I've got a headache, I'm going to the clinic."

He offers no room for his team's replies as he pushes through the glass doors, standing by the elevators and waiting impatiently. His gaze is so intense on the metal doors that he's surprised he doesn't burn right through them, but the elevator finally reaches him, and he steps inside without looking back into the BAU to see his team members staring.

"He's so full of shit," Derek scoffs, "He doesn't have a headache."

"I think he's got a perpetual headache," Reid muses, and Rossi, who'd been working on stirring his third cup of coffee for the day pipes up.

"I would, if I had to manage you bozos all day," The man grins wryly, but doesn't exclude himself from the conversation; for all his teasing, he wants to gossip about Hotch too.

"Nah. He just wants to see the hot nurse," Derek insists, "I've seen her. She's cute, and all, but she's no Savannah."

"Maybe I should have a headache later," Emily muses, lost in thought and toying with the necklace resting on her chest.

"He's gonna have to start finding new excuses," Derek leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle against his knee, "Maybe he'll ask one of us to shoot him just so he can get her hands all over him packing up the bullet hole."

"And that is my cue to leave," Rossi grimaces, "I don't often like mixing sex with wound care."

The older man pointedly ignores Derek's comment about how that's probably why he's thrice divorced; he's not freaky enough. He shuts his office door behind him and conversation putters out among the bullpen, each agent stuck with a residual smirk on their faces as they get back to their paperwork.

"Agent Hotchner," You smile kindly up at the man who steps through the doors of your clinic, "I'm not sure why I even looked up, I should have known it was you."

He chuckles bashfully, hands tucked into his pockets, "I haven't been getting much sleep lately, so I've got a pretty persistent migraine."

"Is it hard, sleeping after a day at your job? The things you see," You trail off, reaching into a drawer at your desk to retrieve a bottle of excedrin, "I don't think I'd be sleeping either."

Aaron's suddenly flustered by your concern for him. He'd intended for his poorly crafted excuse to come across as light insomnia, too much coffee during the day or a scary movie at night. But as you reach out to hand over two tablets of medicine, he meets your eyes with a fond gaze.

"I'm alright," He assures you, his voice soft and earnest. He touches you more than necessary, taking your loose fist in his hand and uncurling your fingers for you so that the excedrin falls into his other palm bumped up against the heel of your hand.

You're surprised your hand doesn't start sweating at how flustered you've become, but you're glad for it. He secures the medicine in his fist, his hand still humming with the ghost of your touch.

"Sleep tonight," You warn him with a slightly weak voice, watching as he downs the pills with a gulp of water from a delicate paper cup stored by your sink, "Get off of any electronic devices for an hour before bed, read something boring, and keep the lights dim. And if none of that works, take sleeping pills, I can give you Tylenol PM if you don't have any at home."

"I'd love some," He smiles, lingering by the edge of your desk, "Thank you, Doctor."

"You can call me Y/N," You avert your eyes to your desk drawer, your voice feeble, "We see each other every day, you ought to be more familiar with me than that."

He chuckles, a soft exhale that sends butterflies with it into your stomach. You offer him the pills and again he takes your hand in his own, only making the fiery heat that burns at your cheeks more intense.

"Thank you. And you can call me Aaron," He takes the pulls from you, tucking them into the breast pocket of his button-up.

"Goodbye, Aaron," You grin, barely able to stop the expression from growing an embarrassing amount.

"Bye Y/N," He smiles back, eyes glimmering with fondness, "See you next time."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

thebearchives · 2 years ago

Text

paper-thin walls | m.s.

PAIR. neighbour!mick schumacher x single mother!reader

SUMM. noisy neighbours was the last thing mick was expecting after the long f1 season. he's tired, he's stressed, and believe it or not, he's ready to give his neighbour a piece of his damn mind.

WC. 5.6k

NOTES. first fic of 2023, everyone cheer!! i'm trying out new styles of writing, so please lmk how you found this fic.

WARNINGS include excessive use of the word 'fuck' (i'm sorry), and...shirtless mick? as always, don't be a ghost reader!

rest and relaxation, mick. that’s what toto had told him before he waved him off at the airport. we need you in prime shape for the next season.

mick tossed in his bed, migraine prickling the back of his head as another screech came from the wall beside him.

look like you haven’t slept in months, mate. george had thrown an arm over his shoulder, cheeky smile playing on his lips as he brought a finger up to poke the obvious bags under mick’s eye. look alive, mick. it’s only gonna get worse from here.

it wasn’t official yet, but soon, news would drop about lewis’ retirement and mick’s subsequent promotion to the empty mercedes seat. he supposed that george was right. the season had only just ended and yet already, his shared calendar was filling up faster and faster with events, testing sessions, and appearances for the new season.

i’ll tell you this now. get all the sleep you can get this break. lewis rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck side-to-side. the now eighth-time champion yawned loudly, muttering about how he was glad to be escaping the early mornings of simulator practice that happened closer to the start and end of the off season.

mick couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. it was strange, really, how quickly the idea of sleep had turned from attainable to something as out-of-reach as his seat on the grid had been the year prior. except, only his fight for his seat came with much less crying and screaming from his next door neighbour.

now listen, mick didn’t hate kids, alright. in fact, his older sister had brought a wonderful little boy into the world some years ago, and mick didn’t like to brag, but he was certain he was his nephew’s favourite uncle;

( “you’re also his only uncle, mick.” gina rolled her eyes as she watched mick toss her son up in the air.

mick waved her off, laughing along with his nephew. “i’m still his favourite, aren’t i, jonah?”

he had directed the second half of his sentence to the boy in his arms who, when addressed, nodded rapidly and smiled at his mom with his crooked teeth.

“yeah, mama! uncle mickie is the best uncle in the whoooooole world!” )

so, yeah, it was fair to say mick liked kids. but when that kid is crying her little lungs out at 2:53 in the morning for the third night in a row? yeah, that’s when he draws a line.

a beat passed before another set of pitiful whines reverberated from the wall. mick pulled the pillow out from under him, and stuffed it over his head instead, hoping to drown out the sounds.

his first order of business as a mercedes amg driver? move the fuck out.

your eyes were red, beady with unshed tears as the figurative hammers slammed against your head.

amelia was sick— had been for the past three days now. you had been trying to soothe her cries for the past hour, but to no avail. your heart broke to see your little angel’s face contort in pain as her whole body ached.

it’s a simple cold. your pediatrician had told you such with a small smile. she was holding on to a red lollipop that she reached over and handed to amelia. the two-year-old had reluctantly reached out and grabbed it before rushing back against your side. her forehead was burning up as you pushed her bangs away from her face, face visibly worried. it’s viral, hon. the seasons are changing. nothing to worry about.

you had a sneaking suspicion that the lady from the fourth floor with the hacking cough had been the one to infect your little girl. if only the elevator doors had closed on her that day.

( you pressed the ‘door close’ button repeatedly, willing it to close before anne from the fourth floor would reach the elevator.

amelia giggled with each press of the button. “i wanna try! i wanna try! mommy, please can i try?” she had stood on her tippy-toes, teetering over and grabbing onto your dress as support.

you smiled, hand leaving the button to instead ruffle her hair. “it’s all yours, little lady. have at it.”

amelia reached over and pushed her finger against the ‘door open’ button. you held in a groan as the door jerked in the opposite direction. you tutted lightly, pushing amelia’s finger to the next button over. “wrong button, baby.”

amelia ‘ohh’ed, finger pushing against the button one again, but it was too late.

you watched as anne rushed to the elevator door with a rejuvenated fervor, wanting so badly for the doors to close right before she got on. you prayed to schindler elevators that the doors would close on her.

schindler elevators inc. was unfortunately not a god, and thus, anne got on.

“good afternoon, dear.” anne sniffled out, turning to look at the little girl in front of you. “thank you for waiting, dearie.”

amelia smiled, “you’re welcome! what floor?”

anne coughed loudly. you tried to hide your grimace. “fourth, please.”

the doors finally closed and amelia tugged on your dress once again. you smiled at her hopeless face, reaching up to press the fourth floor button.

anne had coughed and sneezed a few more times before she nasally said goodbye and got off on her floor. )

anne was a sweet lady, you wouldn’t deny it. but at this moment in time, you couldn’t help but curse her with all the malicious intent you could muster. you were tired. amelia was tired. and yet, nothing you were doing seemed to lull the girl into a state of slumber.

faintly, you could feel the guilt creeping up on you. the walls of your apartment complex were thin— you’d learned that the hard way. you were aware of how amelia’s cries were probably making their way into your neighbour’ houses and into the hallway, but quite frankly, you couldn’t even pretend to give a shit while you pulled amelia into your arms and took her on a little walk around your apartment.

her loud cries slowly turned into sniffles and low whines as you rocked her around your house, showing her all the framed pictures hung around your house. one of her hands found its way to your hair, twirling some strands while the other stayed nestled between your bodies. your shirts had come off long ago— skin-to-skin was always a great comfort for amelia, and you could tell that the material of her sleeves and your t-shirt was overstimulating her greatly.

even dressed in just a diaper, amelia’s arm, and subsequently, the rest of her body, was burning up from the fever she was running. you had a feeling that the medicine you had given her before her scheduled bedtime was wearing off, but amelia had refused to drink her milk and you were reluctant to give her another dose on an empty stomach.

you hated to rouse her once she had finally quieted down but after being a mother for two years, you quickly learned that too much empathy could lead to your downfall. amelia needed to take her medicine now so that she wouldn’t have another meltdown in an hour’s time, and if that came at the expense of her crying just a bit more, it’d have to do.

you hesitantly pulled amelia away from your skin, hushing her lightly as she started to resist and whine. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, baby. i know it hurts.”

you made your way to the kitchen. you talked amelia through every step, hoping to keep her distracted long enough to pull out an applesauce cup from the pantry. “we’re gonna eat some food and then give you your medicine so your body stops hurting. okay, baby?”

amelia shivered lightly as your hand grazed over her stomach. she watched with wet eyes as you grabbed a spoon and attempted to open the cup— it was quite hard, doing everything with one hand.

“can mommy put you down?” you stopped and looked down at amelia, who frowned before slowly shaking her head and leaning into your chest again. “you wanna sit in my lap?” amelia nodded, a shuddered breath escaping her as she let herself calm down.

you worked quickly, sitting down with a tired baby in your lap and peeling open the cup. you fed amelia with slow bites, hoping she kept her food down this time. after she finished about half the cup, she started to fuss, pushing her face into your arm to avoid eating anymore. you were too tired to care about the fact that she had rubbed applesauce all over your bare arm.

you decided against giving her the next dose of medicine until she stopped being fussy— if there was anything amelia had seemed to hate more than being sick, it was taking her medicine. the one she had been prescribed was grape flavoured, and it was by far the worst flavour of medicine you had the disgrace of stumbling across. you pitied your daughter. truly, you did, but you wanted her to get better, and if this grape-flavoured syrup was the only way to nurse her back to health, you’d do whatever it takes to get her to drink it.

amelia was now sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket as her clammy skin made her feel cold. she watched you with narrowed eyes as you manoeuvred around the kitchen to find her medicine and her sippy cup filled with water. although you had tried your hardest to hide the bottle from her, amelia recognized the purple bottle instantly, shaking her head furiously and whining out a no, mommy.

you sighed, not wanting to experience the third meltdown of the night. half heartedly, you wished for her to just stop crying and go to sleep, entirely too exhausted by caring for a sick child while running on a combined two hours of sleep.

you couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself; god, you were such a bad mother. here your daughter was— sick and in need of your comfort— and instead of comforting her, you’re frustrated with her tears and couldn’t stand to hear another cry. you were just so tired. yet, you had no right to complain— you knew being a single mother would have been hard, but you still went through with it.

you took a deep breath in, trying to stop yourself from spiralling.

you carried amelia in your womb for nine months alone. you had gave birth alone. you had spent the last three years raising amelia on your own, and god damn it, a sickness would not make you question your worth as a mother. not over your dead body.

“alright, mimi.” you crouched in front of where amelia had been sitting, a weak smile on your face to try and coax her into drinking her medicine. “you’ve gotta drink your medicine if you want to feel better, okay?— no, don’t give me that look. mommy doesn’t want to give you this either, but you have to drink it or else you’ll continue hurting all night.”

the young girl sniffled, eyes already watering again. “but it’s yucky!”

you placed the sippy cup on the ground beside you, reaching up to caress her cheek lightly. “it is, but it helps you feel less icky and achy, okay?”

amelia stared at the bottle in your hand, a frown clear on her face. you wished she hadn’t taken up your stubbornness.

“we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, amelia.” you gave her a slightly stern look.

amelia shook her head before pushing it back and into the cushion of the couch.

hard way, it is.

you leave me no choice, amelia. you placed the plastic feeding syringe filled with 5 mL of the purple medicine, and reached out to hold onto amelia. you sat down in her spot, holding the girl down by her arms as she started to yell and flail her limbs. after she realized her arms were being held, she began to kick her feet, trying to roll out of your arms.

your grip didn’t loosen, leaning forward to grab the syringe once again. you held the syringe near her mouth, and amelia immediately started to scream louder, yells turning into sobs. again, very faintly, you worried about the noise and your neighbours, but you pushed forward.

you placed the syringe against the inside of her cheek, releasing some of the medicine. amelia stopped crying for a slight second to swallow before going back to her loud cries. the migraine from earlier returned as you repeated your actions twice more before tossing the empty syringe to the table and pulling the girl up in your lap.

amelia gagged loudly, and you couldn’t stop the loud no, no, no! no throwing up from escaping your lips. you grabbed her sippy cup before helping her wash down the medicine. god, children were so dramatic.

amelia, whose hands were now free, pushed the sippy cup away after a few sips. her lips were downturned into a big pout, and her eyes were glassy. her breath shuddered, still recovering from her outburst from seconds ago. you cooed gently, pushing her hair away from her forehead and eyes.

“see, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” you imagined that if she knew how, amelia would respond to you with a death glare.

you pulled the girl closer to you, hand on her hair, smoothing it down as she placed her wet cheek against your sternum. you whispered quiet compliments to your baby as she started to calm down, hand coming back up to grab your hair and tangle her fingers into it.

it was quiet— no sounds aside from your whispers of i love you’s and amelia’s heavy breathing (her nose had stuffed up not too long ago). it had stayed quiet for maybe twenty seconds, until the silence was broken by a rather aggressive knock on your door.

amelia startled, and your heart dropped. fuck.

mick wasn’t sure when he finally dozed off. the little girl from the other side of his wall had finally quieted down, and he could faintly hear another woman’s voice coaxing her to calm down.

when he came to again, it had of course been due to another meltdown from the girl. he’d startled awake, pillow falling from his face and onto the floor beside him. his heart rate was erratic, and it took him a few seconds to get a bearing of his surroundings. when the next cry resonated through his room, he couldn’t help the loud groan from escaping past his lips.

mick sat up in his bed, suddenly feeling a strong wave of rage crash over him. it was late, and he was tired. it was past 3 am now, and mick schumacher had had enough.

the last few days had been stressful, to say the least. mick was going to be an official driver on the grid next season, for mercedes, and as excited as he was, he was also nervous— extremely nervous. yes, it was off season, but everyone knew that off season meant preparing for the next season. there really weren’t any “days off” in formula one, not really— if it wasn’t driving, it was sim work, and if it wasn’t the sim, it was working out to keep those muscles in shape.

frankly, mick had mentally exhausted himself by worrying for his next season in formula one, and with the lack of sleep, the man was nearing insanity.

he could feel the frustration, the exhaustion, and all his anxieties start to build up; start to consume him. he let them consume him.

as if on autopilot, mick got out of his bed, walking out of his bedroom and directly towards his front door. another loud cry came from across the wall, this one louder from all the rest.

if mick had been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have opened the door and rapped his knuckles against his neighbour’s door rather aggressively. but alas, mick had finally exploded, and who better to release his frustrations on than his next-door neighbours who couldn’t shut the fuck up at 3 am on a wednesday night.

the second he registered his hand on the painted black door, he paled. fuck. mick felt like he was slapped in the face— what the fuck was he thinking? what the fuck could he possibly do? yell at whoever opened the door? tell them to shut their baby up? fuck. fuck.

mick held his breath, pulling his hand back. should i run for it? his eyes flitted from the door in front of him to his own. a beat passed, the door didn’t open, but he could still hear whining and muffled murmurs. it was louder now that he was out in the hallway— his walls had been thin, but perhaps the ones that lined the sides of the hallway were thinner. maybe they didn’t hear me.

before he could decide between standing his (now, remorseful) ground, or turn tail and hurry back home and sleep with his shitty “noise-cancelling” headphones on, the door opened. his head jerked up at the sound, eyes raking over your figure as he worked up the nerve to look you in the eyes.

you were a sight to behold, dressed in a plain black sports bra and loose, plaid pajama pants that coincidentally mirrored the colours of mercedes. the quick ponytail you had thrown your hair into some hours prior was now a ghost of what it should have been— most of your hair slipping out and splaying over your shoulders. the tangled ends could only have been caused by the young girl held in your arms. she was covered up more than you were, but from where the blanket fell off her shoulder and exposed her arm, mick could tell she was just as bare, if not more. (skin-to-skin, he’d realize some hours later as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, this time wide awake on his own accord.)

your eyes, mick quickly learned, told stories clearer than even the most renowned storytellers. they were droopy and bloodshot with the lack of sleep. mick could read the exhaustion through them from miles away. aside from that, they were also bleary— as if you were seconds away from bursting into tears yourself. the girl in your arms sniffled, dragging his attention away once more as he scanned his eyes over her rosy red cheeks and irritated nose. oh.

a rogue wave of guilt crashed over mick, almost drowning him in the process. in his blind rage, mick hadn’t even considered what could have possibly led the girl in your arms to cry. it seems that the lack of sleep had killed his brain cells— rid him of all common sense and critical thinking. she was sick.

the air was rather quiet around you three— aside from the little girl’s sniffling and heavy breaths, silence filled the air. mick mulled over what he should say.

the girl in your arms shivered and you shifted her closer. another second of silence passed and you decided to take the reins of the conversation. “hi, are you here about the noise?”

mick could do nothing but nod, still feeling regretful for having knocked in the first place. his lips turned upwards into a sheepish smile, hand ruffling his already messy hair.

“listen, i’m really sorry. my daughter hasn’t been feeling the best for the past few nights, and i went around to let the rest of the hall know…” you trailed off, cocking your eyebrow as you asked him a question. “i don’t think i saw you around?”

mick stuttered. “uh, yup. yeah. sorry, i was out of town for the past few weeks and only just got back,” he gestured to the door to the right of your own. “ i live next door.”

you winced. “ah, that means you’re on the opposite side of my bedroom. i’m sorry, really. amelia rarely gets sick but when she does, she’s quite the force to be reckoned with…the noise should go down now, hopefully. her medicine wore off, and she’s just gotten a new dose. let’s both hope she sleeps like a baby, yeah?”

the light chuckle that escaped your lips made mick’s heart warm. the sheepish smile turned into a shy one. “yeah, of course. i’ll let you guys go to bed, then,” he gestured his head to amelia, who had somewhat fallen asleep against your shoulder, a line of drool dripping from her open mouth. “sorry for bothering you guys this late at night.”

you lightly shook your head. “i should be saying that to you. i’ll try my very hardest to make sure you’re able to catch up on sleep now!”

mick smiled and wished you a good night, turning back towards his door. you slowly let the door shut, the whirring and clicking noise signifying that it had automatically locked.

mick yawned as he reached his door. his hand fumbled to find the doorknob, eyes bleary with sleep. he pushed the doorknob down. it didn’t move. huh?

he tried again, and again, and one more time. each time the doorknob didn’t budge. mick became frantic, and for the second time in the past five minutes, he found himself thinking— fuck.

mick had boasted about the new upgrades for his apartment building for months to anyone who listened. how could he have possibly forgotten that his front door automatically locked? that he could only get in if he had his keys or if someone was inside? (“well, what if you get locked out? what then?” “don’t be stupid, gina. i’m not an idiot, i’d never do such a thing.”)

who’s the idiot now? mick groaned, hands pulling at his hair as he crouched down. he felt like crying. he was so fucking tired. now that it was finally quiet, now that amelia had finally stopped crying, mick was locked out of his house with no way back in. what a fucking night.

mick stared at the tiled floor under him, gnawing on his lip as he thought of his options. it was 4 in the morning, not a single person would be awake and working at the front desk. he couldn’t call anybody— his phone was inside, plugged into the wall to charge after two days of use. even if he had it on him, the only people who had copies of the key were his mom, his sister, and hank, the man who worked the front desk— no one that would be awake, nor close enough to come up and unlock his door for him.

his eyes flickered back to your front door, shaking his head before the thought could even fully form. he was not going to bother you again, especially not now. mick leaned his head back against his locked door, accepting his fate and slouching onto the tile. the metal of the door was cool against his bare skin causing a shiver to run down his spine.

time was going by extremely slow, or at least it felt like it was for mick. his knees were now up to his chest, trying to find some reprieve from the cold air that breezed through the hallway’s air conditioning. he wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that, or when his eyes had finally shut until he was roused by the sound of your door opening. he raised his head, making eye contact with you for the second time that night. you looked mostly the same as before— tired eyes and unruly hair— the only difference now was that you had traded your sports bra in for a white shirt and a cardigan.

you cocked your head lightly. “oh? what are you doing out here?”

your voice was quiet, soft. mick felt his cheeks heat up, the embarrassment returning.

his smile was sheepish. “i forgot my keys.”

your expression shifted, a round ‘oh’ shape forming on your lips as you nodded. before you could respond however, your eyes widened and you immediately stepped back into your apartment, leaving mick all alone in the hallway. again. mick blinked, unable to comprehend what just happened.

you returned back outside with a soundtrack of quiet jingling. you brandished the keys in your hand to the boy sitting in front of his door. “almost just made the same mistake.”

mick nodded, an airy laugh escaping his lips. “i don’t suppose amelia knows how to open doors yet?”

you shook your head, “with those new child-safe knob covers? god, i hope not.”

the air became quiet, neither of you speaking many words. mick found himself wishing the silence would swallow him whole. he caved.

“so what—”

“would yo—”

mick flinched, instantly backtracking. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, no. it’s okay, you can go first.”

“no, really. it’s okay, it wasn’t very important, anyway.” mick pushed himself off of the ground, now coming up to stand against his door instead. “please, say whatever you wanted to.”

you pursed your lips, staring at his figure before sighing. “alright,” you nodded, “i was just going to offer if you’d like to crash on my sofa? it’s awfully cold out here, and you’re…”

mick glanced down at his bare chest at your gesture, cheeks flaming hot enough to drown out the cold breeze of the air conditioner. he crossed his arms, trying to cover up his chest, though you had already seen everything he had on show.

he shook his head, adamant on not inconveniencing you further. “no, that’s alright. i’m here because of my forgetfulness, i can deal with it.”

you couldn’t help but copy his movement. “your forgetfulness came from the fact that amelia, and by extension, myself, kept you up most of the night because of how loud we were. if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

mick went to argue but you cut him off. “really, it all comes back to me, so let me help you.”

the german boy was silent, mulling over his options in his head.

“it’s a pull-out.”

his eyes met yours again. “you’re sure?”

“yes, of course.” you nodded excessively. “i was just about to go down to the laundry room–” mick’s brows furrowed, and it was your turn to smile sheepishly now. “— i forgot to grab the last load of laundry earlier because of how cranky ‘melia was being. if you don’t mind waiting for another 5 minutes, i can quickly go grab the load and let you settle in for the night?”

mick nodded, hand coming up to scratch at the base of his neck. “no, of course. take your time. i’ll be here…s’not like i’d be able to go anywhere, anyway.”

you smiled at his words, eyes brighter than they had been the first time you two spoke. “great!”

you pulled the cardigan closer to your chest, walking down the hallway as fast as you could without bursting into a full sprint. had you really just done that? had you really just invited a stranger you had briefly acquainted with not mere minutes ago to spend the night in your apartment? yes.

you pushed the down button on the elevator. and then again, willing it to get to your floor faster. fuck, your mind was going crazy with the what ifs.

what if he was a creep? you haven’t seen him around since before tonight. ‘out of town’ he says. for what? what if he was a serial killer? that would make sense. he’d fled the town to not look suspicious, and now he’s back for his next victims. yes, that was it. (in the future, mick would listen to your retellings of this story with a look of disbelief. “you thought i was going to kill you!?” “of course, i did! i didn’t know you!” “you offered that i stay the night!” “well, i don’t always make good decisions now, do i?”)

the elevator ride was rather short, and uneventful— no anne from the fourth floor to pull you from your thoughts with a hacking cough. you chewed on your lips as you mulled over the man you had left upstairs.

the laundry room was quiet and dark. of course, it was expected for four in the morning— not everyone was as disorganized as you were. you rushed your way around the familiar room, grabbing the basket you had left behind and unloading your dryer. you had to work quickly to get back before amelia realized the warmth next to her was simply your heated blanket and not you. you also had to get back to him.

by the final fitted sheet pulled from the dryer, you had made up your mind. there was just no way that your next-door neighbour. he seemed nice— too nice, a voice rang in your head. you shook your head, ridding yourself of the negative thoughts. everything will be just fine.

he was right where you left him— albeit, now returned to his slumped over position against his door. your footsteps were quiet, yet still managed to rouse him back to reality.

you sent him a sheepish smile. “i didn’t take too long, did i?”

“not at all.” he shook his head. “you’re fine.”

a hum escaped your mouth followed by the nod of your head. you reached into your cardigan’s pocket to pull out the keys, unlocking the door quietly and pushing it in with your hip. you held the door open and gestured for him to come in.

his hesitance was obvious and in your head, you cheered. definitely not a serial killer.

“an open door usually means you can enter, you know?” you gave him a soft smile. he returned it, though it looked slightly more like a grimace.

“are…” he started, arms crossing over once again, feeling bare under your gaze. “are you sure? really, it’s no problem for me to stay the night out here. hank will probably be in the office in another hour or two. ‘s not a problem, i’ll just wait for him to get here and i’ll get into my apartment. plus, amelia’s only just fallen asleep, and i’d hate to m—”

“oh, will you just get in here already?” you couldn’t help but reach out, lightly grabbing his arm before tugging him in. you guided the door shut with your foot, making sure it wasn’t too loud before turning around to look at the man in front of you.

his eyes were wide, flickering from your face to your hand, which was still wrapped around his arm. you followed his gaze, your own eyes widening as you quickly dropped your hand. your hand felt like it was on fire— his arm was cold, icy from the air conditioning, and a stark contrast from your warm ones. it felt like you’d given yourself an ice burn.

you cleared your throat, yet stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

the man across from you was in a similar boat, cheeks dusting a light pink as he focused on the heat emanating from where your hand once was.

“i’ll show you to the couch, if you’d like?” your voice tilted up at the end of the sentence. “i have a feeling our layout is the same, so the bathroom should be in the same spot, if you need it.”

he followed behind you with a quiet murmur agreeing about how similar your floor plans were.

your eyes widened as you entered the living room,.empty syringes and dirty tiny baby dishes were strewn across the coffee table. you placed your laundry basket to the side, hastily picking up your earlier mess with an apology.

the shake of your neighbour’s head went unnoticed by you as you rushed into the kitchen and back out. it wasn’t until you had presented him with the pull out that he spoke again.

“you know,” his voice was rather quiet, conscious of the baby sleeping just a little ways away. “you really should not let strangers into your home.”

for a second, you nearly felt your heart stop— this was it. he really is a serial killer— until you caught his expression, once again riddled with guilt as if he was overstepping. as if you hadn’t invited him in.

“you’re not really a stranger though, are you?” at the cock of his head, you continued. “you’re my neighbour who i’ve inconvenienced all night.”

“you don’t even know my name.”

you nodded. “alright, i’ll bite. you bring up a good point. so what is it then? your name?”

“...mick.” he had a slight smile playing on his lips.

“well, mick.” you gave him a small smile, initiating a handshake. “my name’s y/n. now, we’re neither strangers, nor neighbours with no names.”

mick couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his lips, hand warm in your hold. “i suppose you’re right, then.”

you quickly left to grab the man— mick— a few pillows and a comforter from your closet. “i’m the door at the end of the hallway. if you need anything, you can knock on that door and let me know.”

mick nodded. “of course. thank you again, really.”

“not a problem.” you smiled, already making your way out of the living room.“i’ll see you in the morning, then.”

as you walked out the room, you couldn’t help but turn once more, eyeing the blond-haired man who somehow didn't look so out of place as he messed with the teddy bear that you’d forgotten to pick up from the couch. you smiled.

“goodnight, mick.”

“sweet dreams, y/n.”

2K notes · View notes

flowerwiththemachinegun · 4 months ago

Note

I see you doing BEAUTIFUL soul soothing slice of life Zack stuff.

I ask for Zack first because..I'm weird but please do feel free to include the firsts and HOJO!, BECAUSE I've never seen anyone do hojo love, it's wild!

What,would zack do for his lover having a migraine? How would he comfort/cuddle/spoil...

Cook special food? Pet names? Home remedies?

THANK YOU! LMAO I’ve been told I’m the most down bad individual people have met due to my love of Hojo. 10/10 would tie that man to the cross and do my thing with him.

I love this ask cause I’m prone to migraines. I have also tortured myself trying to make them stop. I lock myself in the closet to get away from any sounds and light these days. Good god I’m probably too eager to write Hojo’s.

____________________________________________

Zack “put em in a pack” Fair

I’m certain you have to thoroughly explain what a migraine is to him. The first time you said you had a migraine he continued doing everything at his usual “Zack Volume” fuckin loud. Shiva bless his heart but he lacks brain cells. You told him to quiet down and now he won’t stop whispering everything, that man will whisper in uppercase from the other room.

Now that he understands, he must make a routine for you. Yes yes, that man headed straight to Moogle Search to look up home remedies. It would turn into Zack’s first crime against humanity. Making you a cup of turmeric and ginger based tea, accompanied by an aftertaste so foul you weren’t sure you wanted to even ask what he put in it. As hard as you try, your face says it all and now he’s got the sad puppy eyes, “but baby I really tried.” In that cute pouty voice of his, you know the one he’s still whispering. Please let him know you appreciate the effort but not the attempt at murder.

If there is any medicine that helps relive your pain he’ll have it on hand. He even keeps a supply at his own home, going as far as to carry it around when you’re together because Zack knows they randomly sprout up. He’s learned “the squint” as he calls it. Claiming whenever a migraine is creeping in you start squinting at everything. Awn, cute boy is catching on to the cues. After you tell him about visual impairment/eye pain that can accompany your migraines he’s back on the internet finding ways to relive that too. (Pls Zack it’s not gonna help just cuddle)

After months of trying numerous concoctions Zack would attempt to make you once again, Shiva bless his heart. Despite you telling him in advance, he finally concludes these do not help and he can't really do much about it, it made him feel a bit useless. “ ‘cause if I can’t help my baby, what am I doing?” Telling Zack that everything else he does is perfect when he’s trying to make you feel better. He provides you lots of cuddles, only leaving the bed when he’s certain you’re asleep, though it’s only for necessities. Zack very much prefers to keep you against him as long as humanly possible. You’re his "little kitty", you know the rules with that. If the cat lays on you, you do not move.

Makes sure to turn off any lights, closing all of the curtains/blinds to keep as much light out as possible. Cooking is questionable with him but he can make some of your favorite snacks as long as they’re simple. Anything that he can get you from the store? He’s going to make sure it’s in your possession, even if he has to go completely out of his way to get whatever you want. Nearly every time Zack goes out to get snacks/favorite foods, he brings back a plushie. You have such a large army of plushies that you have to beg him to stop bringing them. Gaia, he even brought you a chibi Zack for when he’s on missions. (You love it, how could you not)

Zack also recognizes sometimes migraines make you nauseous, even causing you to vomit at times. No matter, it doesn’t bother him at all. He’s going to make sure your hair is out of the way, clean you back up, carry you to bed and as you sleep, he’s looking at more home remedies. One thing I can imagine him able to cook is a few types of soups Angeal taught him, to at least get something light on your stomach.

Sephiroth- pillow fort part 2? (he wasn’t allowed much time to be a kid, so he enjoys doing childish activities with you)

This is the man for the job, can’t get your surroundings dark enough? Sephiroth shall begin the construction. He now realizes why you have a million pillows, even taking the pillows and cushions off of your couch to make it more comfortable. Layering blankets and sheets to ensure it’s completely dark in there. He’s ready for his cat house to cuddle you. Stays awake until you fall asleep, it's not really anything new, he's just significantly more adamant about it when you aren't feeling well. Seems a bit sad when you take his fort down due to his "hard work and dedication." It's okay, he knows it can't stay up forever, he'll be able to build another soon.

You’re already overly spoiled by Sephiroth, to which he’d say “there’s never a such thing as too much for you.” He's going to try and find you the best doctors around, not affiliated with Shinra of course. He doesn't want them coming anywhere near you. He knows medicine won't always help, but you know what does? His dick. His outstanding ability to take care of you. Forehead kisses for days. Will scoop you in his lap, holding you until you start dozing off. I don't think this one can cook either, but he'll attempt making your favorite comfort foods until he cooks it exactly to your liking. "nothing less than perfection for you".

He'll go out of his way to buy blackout curtains for his own home. Luckily Sephiroth is extremely quiet, half of the time you don't even know when he arrives. It's like he materializes out of thin air. Due to this you don't have to really ever worry about loud sounds. Finding his voice to be soothing you ask him to read to you until you fall asleep. He's a bit awkward about it at first, but he gets use to it and comes to love doing so.

Angeal (the healer)

Oh yea, you're getting super spoiled by this one. He's putting on his "best chef" apron and getting to work. Not before he tucks you into bed, kissing your forehead and tucking you in, he'll even fluff the pillows. If you like having background sound or really are in the mood to watch something, he has memorized shows/movies that have a minimal amount of ungodly bright scenes. Even turns the brightness down all the way, going as far to adjust the color and of course lowering the volume.

Always asks what kind of food you think your stomach can handle just in case it's one of those nausea inducing migraines. Can make anything you ask or he'll find recipes that are supposed to accommodate your migraines. He's not sure if the home remedies work, but at least you're always happy with each meal he makes you.

Once you're fed and comfortable, Angeal is on his way to wrap you up in his arms. Loves it when you climb on him and rest your head against his chest because you told him his "heartbeat makes me feel better." He's read in an article that pressure points can help alleviate migraines. He has no clue which pressure points to target so he's going to give you a full body massage in hopes that you feel better. hands of god you'll be feeling something alright

Also goes out of his way to buy blackout curtains or anything that may help him keep his home dark when the light is too much. Buys those little motion lights that are dim so when you walk into a room you'll be able to see without it feeling like a flashbang. Angeal doesn't make too much noise either so sound is also not a problem with him. Despite that he gives you a hushed apology any time he thinks he did something too loud.

Genesis (please don't recite Loveless, jk he'd annoy me but i'd love it)

Recites Loveless to you in a hushed tone as you fall asleep on his chest. Genesis is more than willing to read any piece of literature you want, only if you make a special request. He's always going to pull out Loveless by default.

Runs a bath for you, adding a eucalyptus based epsom salt and bubbles to help you relax in hopes to ease some of that tension.(something with a soft scent as strong smells can be too much). "Of course he's aware of your sensitivity to light, in turn lighting a couple of candles to add his romantic flare. He's taking these baths with you, without a doubt. Massaging your back and gently doing the same for your neck. He has an experts touch, that man will make you melt like butter. Loves soaking with you pressed against him, dries you off and tucks you into bed.

This one is also a cook, maybe not as good as Angeal, but definitely not as bad as Sephiroth. Knows your favorite comfort foods and will go out of his way to make it for you as you hide in bed.

Manages to find the best medicine. You're surprised it actually helps. After asking where Genesis got it from you find out he broke into Hojo's lab after a discussion between the two about what was the best treatment for a migraine. Says he stole them because he didn't want the medicine altered as most of his medicines are.

Hojo (my eyes are so far back in my head right now, im excited)

The first time you stumbled into his lab, all but screaming at him to cut of the lights he just stares at you like a madman. "Do you not seeing me working?" I mean, sure you did, once your eyes finally adjust you can see something or someone(????) cut open on a surgical table. Great, migraine increases tenfold.

When he finally finished whatever absurd thing he was doing to that poor carcass he comes to examine you. Maybe you should have gone home instead. Shining that goofy fuckin flashlight directly in your eyes. You tried slapping it out of his hands to which he rolls his eyes as you completely miss his hand stating that "it's a pupil test, I have to check for abnormalities." to which you can't help but tell Hojo that he is the only abnormality.

Injects you with god knows what, but hey, the migraine surprisingly vanished. The next time you come into his lab due to a migraine, he immediately takes into account that you were just here a few days ago over the same thing. Once again taking you back through those oh so annoying examinations before prescribing you some pills. When you question what the pills were he chuckles, telling you in a condescending tone that "you wouldn't remember how to say it even if you tried." With that he tells you to come back after all pills are gone so he can see how you're doing.

Your next visit with Hojo will teach you to never tell him something is wrong with you again. When you began taking the medicine the migraines were easing up, but now it's like they're worse. This time he gives you a different type of medicine, now you're just sleepy. All will be just fine, when you wake up you won't even know he's been poking around your brain.

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

I’m a bit sad I forgot to put in the random bouts of pure confusion migraines can put you through. I’ll never forget grabbing my airpods and I was pretty certain it was a bar of soap. It wasn’t. I don’t even know how I thought something that small was soap, or how I tried to wash my hands for so long with them

#sephiroth #ff7 #sephiroth x reader #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ffvii #final fantasy vii #ff7 crisis core #professor hojo #zack fair #zack fair x reader #angeal hewley x reader #genesis rhapsodos x reader #final fantasy 7

56 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 1 year ago

Note

OHOHOHO, I absolutely LOVE the idea of an unhinged, yandere omega. Who would ever suspect the 'soft little omega' as an actual danger? What can they do, cmon, you should be flattered~

Or even if it's someone like Miguel as an omega, despite him being Absolutely Huge and totally able to crush you like an empty soda can there's this... lingering /urge/ to protect and serve him that he takes full and absolute advantage of.

Like, say he decides he needs an assistant to help him keep track of his busy schedule and any objections you come up with straight up don't matter because He's An Omega and you Have To Help Him. Or just kind of plucks you up one day and informs you you are now on call for his upcoming heats- what're you gonna do, tell this 'clearly vulnerable and fragile' Omega you aren't interested?

You can be chatting to someone and have him come up and literally drag you off and EVERYONE dismisses it or blames you for setting off his fucking 'nesting' instincts like he's not a grown ass man capable of making his own damn decisions.

Or even him pheromone bombing you to make you all pliable and agreeable when he needs it. His Alpha is getting fussy? He just forces your face into his neck until you go all soft and dazed and fuzzy, letting him do whatever he wants because you're just absolutely punch-drunk.

Anon you are opening my mind's third eye right now, there's a post I think about from time to time and it was kinda about gender roles and like certain things being subjective and it was someone going "am I still butch if I have plushies all over my bed" and someone replied something like "dude that's butch as hell, you have all these cute tiny creatures you're being a guardian of and feel protective of"

You're just a female Alpha trying to mind your own business and one day you get a good WHIFF of those Certified Omega Miguel Pheromones and suddenly your stupid ass Hormone Brain is going "hey, hey, you know what would be very Alpha of you. If you took care of that Omega by getting pregnant and giving him a baby. Don't you want to give the Omega a cute little baby or two to take care of and give kisses to and buy little baby clothes for? Don't you want to see his big strong arms holding a lil teeny baby? He'd be SO HAPPY if you gave him a lil baby. Just one. Or a few. Provide for your Omega by taking a fat cream pie from that man. Dont you want the Omega to be happy" and from then on your coochie/instincts are like screaming out half the time you're around him

I guess it can kind of vary depending on how "all consuming" you prefer like heats and ruts and pheromones to be/have an effect on you

And like, yandere and not wanting anyone else besides you or not, I'm sure like he has plenty of fans right but he probably intimidates the fuck out of most people so, you know, he probably intimidates most Alphas too

You're helping him in his office and you can tell he's got a bad migraine from being light sensitive and suddenly you're overwhelmed with the urge to rub his back and ask if he needs anything. You're bringing the man food and drinks every so often and make sure to ask him when he's got enough sleep. One may think, "oh you're a submissive Omega serving and obeying your Alpha" nah son YOU'RE the Alpha and like yeah you are being just nice and compassionate but, you're PROVIDING for him

Fucking nesting ass Miguel. It depends on preference since with ABO sometimes you know, Things Are Different Downstairs, we all need a little girldick from time to time, but, him developing the nesting instincts not even for himself he's like preparing for YOU to be pregnant. Scurrying around making sure his home is well stocked and rationed up like he's a squirrel storing for the winter because, he doesn't want his Alpha to not be able to soothe all her cravings 🥺🥺🥺 that would make him a Bad Terrible Horrible Omega and also you need the utmost care for the baby/babies/pups/whatever word you prefer

The pheromone bombing, godddd. Even if you're still mad and upset I imagine from a biological standpoint that it would at least like, help your body stop like reacting to any negative stress, like how you can be anxious or you can be Anxious Anxious where you're literally having heart palpitations and your chest feels tighter, like, he doesn't want his Alpha to be too stressed 🥺 you want him to bake you some sopapillas or something?

Lyla all "heyyyyy call me crazy but I think judging by the way Reader is so antsy and stockin up on food lately that SOMEONE is about to have their rut ;) maybe you should pop on for a visit"

Miguel: I dunno if I should

Lyla: why, because its questionably ethical and she might sleep with you when she's not in the right state of mind?

Miguel: no because what if I can't please her in bed and she doesn't like me 🥺👉👈

This man sees you holding Mayday ONCE and suddenly he's got a mental catalogue with all the different ways your potential babies could look. Would you let him name any of them Gabriella after his daughter or Gabriel after his brother? Would they have your eyes or his? Hair color? What if you spit out an Alpha with his height? Or maybe you two would have cute Omega babies just like their mom. He's just sitting there mentally going 🥰🥰🥰 while Lyla is snapping her fingers in front of his face "Hey, Hey, Earth to Planet DILF, you've never even kissed her yet, buddy"

Your rut hits and you're isolated in your Nueva York cyberpunk apartment which or course he has the pass key for and, "oh gosh Reader are you ok-- oh no you're suddenly pushing me down and ripping my clothes off, oh noooOoooOoo I sure hope you don't get prrrrregante, I didn't bring any protection 👉👈 *wink wink*"

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #sinprompts #yandere stuff

364 notes · View notes

toniyx · 8 months ago

Text

More Vox headcanons, because I'm absolutely suffering.

Vox x Reader Migraines Headcanons (Fluff)

So, I'm pretty sure I've already seen someone do this. But now I'm going to put my own take out there, being that I have a migraine right now.

This goes under the assumption that you and him are in a (relatively) stable relationship. Nothing crazy, but you aren't absurdly toxic and fighting all the time.

- It starts when, one day, you two are alone in his big office thing. Vox isn't aware of your migraines at this point; either you haven't told him to spare his feelings, or they just haven't come up yet. Regardless...

- You enter his room, bringing him his morning coffee. Now, his big evil lair is normally pleasantly dim to you, but now, it feels like every single LED is blinking at you for attention, or, more accurately, screaming in your face.

- You approach Vox with the intent to speak with him, but every step is really heavy, and you feel dizzy. Vox hears you enter, but turns back to look at you only when you've come closer.

- The moment he looks at you, you wince. His screen is so painfully bright, and it doesn't help when he starts talking.

- The two of you talk, and you're happy, despite the pain. Vox notices that something's up, but he doesn't comment until you hand him his mug and start clutching your head, trying to cover your eyes or look away subtly. He shuts up for a moment, squinting.

- "What's the matter, dear?" he asks - he sounds more confused than he does concerned, or perhaps a little upset. Has he done something wrong? Why aren't you looking at him? You've never done this before, and for some reason, it looks to him like you're in actual, physical pain from looking at him. That's gonna hurt his ego.

- But little does he know, that's the truth. You turn back a little and begin explaining it to him, looking rather guilty for not having explained it already.

- Vox is just a little offended that you thought he'd be upset if you told him, but figures that goes against his point, and doesn't tell you.

- Now, Vox is very work-oriented, not to mention very busy—he's going to have to get back to work soon enough, there's no doubt about that. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care.

- He turns you away, thanking you dismissively for bringing him his coffee.

- Later on though, in secret, he spares a little while to shower the internet for information on these—he'd never dealt with them personally, even while alive, and he didn't care enough about anyone else to have bothered looking them up before. But now, at last, he had a reason to look into them.

- He calls up a few doctors, pulls a few strings, and threatens a couple of employees to get to work, producing whatever they possibly can to help with your problem

- He surprises you with it all later in the day, once he gets off work. He brings you just about every possible remedy he's been able to find—medicine, earmuffs, caffeine, ice packs, even a blindfold!

- You're surprised by all of this effort—Vox doesn't seem like the type, does he? If you bring it up to him, he just plays it off coyly, telling you how he couldn't possibly just let his darling suffer like that. On the outside, he sounds like a smug bastard. On the inside, though, there's some truth to what he's saying.

- Eventually, the two of you end up hanging out. Vox would even go through the trouble of dimming his screen for you; in fact, he'd even shut it off entirely, just for you. He can still see you just fine due to the cameras inbuilt into his monitor; it's much preferable to having your pretty face look away from him in pain.

- You sleep peacefully that night next to Vox. He even massages your temples without asking. Vox isn't normally so smooth, but he finds success in it just thus once.

#hazbin hotel vox #vox #fully sfw #sfw #hazbin hotel #headcanons #imagines #anyways I'm going back to sleep #this hurts #gn #vox x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

67 notes · View notes

anonymityisfunwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Maroon

The rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon...

"You're Losing Me" Chapter List Part of The Inspired By Taylor Swift Series Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

You creak a bleary eye open, lifting your head off Bucky's chest. You gently nudge Bucky, "Hey."

"Hmm," Bucky sleepily groans, refusing to open his eyes.

"What time is it?"

He sighs, his voice raspy with sleep, "Dunno, why?"

The sun filters through the window, cascading down onto the hardwood floor you'd both evidently dozed off on. "The sun's coming up."

You chuckle as both of Bucky's eyes whirl open to the soft light flooding the room, "Oh shit, really?"

"I think we giggled ourselves to sleep."

He wipes his eyes, chuckling, "I guess so."

Your lips linger on his. He softly smiles against your mouth, signing in contentment. "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?"

"That cheap ass rose you brought last night? No offense."

"I stole it from my roommate, no offense taken." You look up at Bucky with a cheeky grin, "And let's not graze over the fact that a couple bottles of wine knocked us on our asses."

"Well, not exactly," he sheepishly chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Liquor doesn't really affect me. Super soldier metabolism, remember?"

"Oh my God," you groan, exasperatedly rubbing at your temples. "So you were sober while I was acting like a wine drunk idiot."

"No, no! Don't be embarrassed, I thought it was cute."

"I think we have very different definitions of cute."

"We were having fun, and you sat on the floor, I wanted to sit with you."

"See? That's cute."

"It was a good night. I had fun, and I hope you did too."

"Clearly a little too much fun." You remembered passing the night with your feet in his lap, laughing like he was your closest friend. "I swear I'll never drink again."

You wake with his memory over you. Just like always.

Your mouth feels like it's full of cotton, but considering you remember very little of the night before, you don't feel nearly as bad as you thought you would.

You creak open a bleary eye, surprised that no raging migraine awaits you at the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. You settle back into bed and relish in the comfort and familiarity, for the first time in months, the pillows beneath your head feel right, the blankets soft and cozy just like the ones in your home.

That's when it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Home.

Flashes of you drunkenly stumbling down the hallway leading to your apartment rattle around your skull.

"Oh no," you mutter to yourself, jolting upright. You look around to find yourself fully clothed in the dress you'd picked for your girls night with Nat and Wanda except for your shoes. You find your soft comforter gently laid over you. But most importantly, you find Bucky sheepishly standing in the doorway, a large glass of water and aspirin in hand. "Oh God."

He sucks in a breath, softly exhaling, "Hi."

"Hi."

He awkwardly clears his throat, "How - how do you feel?"

You swing your legs off the bed, sitting upright as swiftly as you can, "Honestly? Not nearly as bad as I thought I would."

"Fortunately, I think you slept through most of your hangover," he chuckles, handing you the glass of water and placing the aspirin in your hand.

You smile and murmur a quiet thank you, taking a moment to down the medication with a large gulp of water. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Um, well, you sorta slept the whole day," Bucky sheepishly explains. "It's almost four now."

"Four?" you exclaim.

"I'm sorry," Bucky winces at the outburst. "I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful, and I knew if I woke you you'd feel like shit, so I just let you sleep."

"No, no, it's alright," you immediately backtrack, not wanting to make Bucky feel bad. "I just - Nat and Wanda are gonna be pissed with me."

"Don't worry, I texted them last night when I found you here, I told them you were okay, that I'd stay with you."

You shut your eyes, sighing in relief, "Thank you."

"Any time."

Your eyebrows pull together, trying and failing to pull pieces of your memory back together. "You said you found me here?"

"Um, yeah, well, Natasha called me," Bucky explains. "She asked me if you'd called, and she told me that you took off in a cab alone, that you were very drunk. And I just took off. First place I looked was here."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just barged in like that."

"It's alright. It's as much your place as it is mine."

You open your mouth to tell him that, no, it's not your place as much as it is his. Not anymore. You'd left. This was his home you drunkenly stumbled into last night.

He clears his throat again, "I'm just - I should let you get changed, freshen up. Your stuff is right where you left me - it. Right where you left it."

You offer him another tight smile, "Thank you."

Getting dressed takes no time.

You move around your old bedroom easily, gliding across the floors. You memorized the creaks in the floor, studied the feeling of the exposed brick beneath your fingertips, you knew this place like the back of your hand. That's part of the problem, it all feels so right, so much like second nature. And you still can't stay here. You know that.

Like Bucky said, everything was right where you left it. But that was the whole problem, wasn't it? Everything was exactly as you left it. Nothing had changed. One whole month had passed, and nothing was different except a month's worth of distance.

You could sit here, on the warmest bed you'd ever known, and convince yourself that things were different, but you knew they weren't. He couldn't take back what he said any more than you could. You couldn't make him want you any more than he could make you content with his perpetual callousness toward commitment.

When you finally muster enough courage to leave the bedroom, you're immediately hit with fragmented memories of the night before.

Drunkenly trudging though the place.

Taking a painful walk down memory lane.

And drinking. Quite a bit of drinking.

You wince when you catch sight of the nearly empty bottle of Bucky's expensive whiskey as it sits on the counter. "I swear I'll replace that."

Bucky chuckles, dismissively waving his hand at the bottle, "Don't worry about it."

You stand at the edge of the apartment, still tucked in the doorway of the bedroom, feeling more vulnerable than you ever thought possible in what was once your safest place. You find that you don't know what to say to him. Words escape you as you stand before the love of your life. You can't bring yourself to stop thinking about him like that.

Even if it doesn't work out, even if you leave this apartment today with nothing but a wounded pride and a slight hangover, he'll always be the great, life altering, love of your life.

The distance in your eyes kills Bucky. The way you stand there like you don't know what to do with yourself. The way you hold yourself like you're bracing yourself for whatever comes next. It hurts even more because he can't deny that this is his fault. That much he knew.

He couldn't take back what he said. He couldn't undo the damage done. All he could do was hope that he could still somehow fix it. He'd be damned if he didn't at least try. Bucky clears his throat, a nervous tick you hadn't seen him do this many times consecutively since your first date, "I, um, I ordered some burgers from that place you like down the street."

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," he insists. "It's your favorite hangover food."

"You remembered," you chuckle. "I think the last time I got those burgers was when we split that bottle of wine I stole from my old roommate."

"That's right," Bucky delightfully recalls, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth. "We ended up on the floor."

"And we spent the next morning cleaning the incense of your vinyl shelf," you fondly reminisce. "I'm still shocked that we didn't burn the whole place down."

"I forgot about that!" Bucky jovially agrees. And then there's another long lull in the conversation. It was never like this before. The night in question was one of your first dates. Only a month or two into the relationship. From the moment you arrived to Bucky's old apartment, it was easy. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine did. You laughed with your feet in his lap like you were his closest friend. "That's right, there's that little burn mark on the third shelf from that night."

Things only got better from there.

From there, you saw each other every day. When he wasn't with you, he was counting down the minutes until he could see you again. It didn't matter if he was at your apartment every day, or if he was gone on a month long assignment, it was always like no time had passed.

When the press found out about your relationship, and they were raking you both over the coals, it still wasn't like this.

It was always easy. Even when it was really hard, it was easy.

You were always his safe place to land, always the kindred spirit he yearned for, it was everything he didn't believe he deserved and more. You were it for him.

And now, there was silence. Not the comfortable silence that came when two people understood each other. The sort of silence that spoke a million, heartbreaking, earth shattering goodbyes.

He swallows the knot in his throat, tossing it back along with his pride, "I guess it's a good thing that we actually have furniture now. No one's been here, so I'm sure the floors are a little grimy."

You feel your heart splintering, worrying that your drunken fears from the night before had become your grim reality. Your stomach churns again, picturing him in love with other girls. You clear your throat, "You - you haven't been staying here?"

"No."

All you can bring yourself to say is a meager, "Oh."

"I've been staying on the Compound."

"You hate staying on the Compound," you retort.

"I know," he sighs. "I just - I couldn't stay here. This is our home. Alone, it felt wrong. It's our place. Not mine."

You scan the apartment over your shoulder. The light still filters in through the curtains, giving the room a soft, hopeful glow. Your eyes trail over your assortment of houseplants, each one alive and well despite your month long absence. You quirk an eyebrow at Bucky, "You've been coming back here just to water the plants."

A light blush dusts over his cheeks, he rubs the back of his neck, "After all the time you spent trying to keep them alive? I was sorta worried they'd come back and haunt me if I let them die."

You find your heart fluttering at the small acts of kindness. Ordering your favorite hangover food from years ago, keeping your plants alive, rushing to find you in the middle of the night. It was so quintessentially Bucky, it reminded you of how well you worked together. Even after years together, he always prided himself on the small acts of service to his loved ones.

The doorbell rings, interrupting your runaway thoughts. Bucky clears his throat, the two of you still standing in the very center of the living room, "That's probably the food."

After what was probably the best burger you'd ever eaten, paired with swapping memories and little stories of how you'd spent the last month, you fondly smile up at Bucky. He sits beside you, finishing up his burger with a content smile.

Your heart strings are no longer just being tugged, they're practically yanking you closer to him, begging you to stay as close to him as you possibly can. And you have to admit to yourself, the calm domesticity does nothing but remind you of how much you miss him.

You ignore your raging emotions the best you can, instead crumpling the wax paper in your hand, tossing it in the garbage can, "That was exactly what I needed."

"I want you to come home," Bucky blurts. Your face drops at his sudden declaration. Apparently, you weren't the only one whose heart strings were being tugged. Bucky shuts his eyes, silently cursing himself for his tactless proclamation, "I - I - Shit. I had this whole speech planned out. I planned every single word and I swear it sounded so much better than that."

You chuckle, oddly endeared by his flustered, stammering self, "It's alright, Bucky."

"I do, though. I want you to come home." His ocean blue eyes bore into yours, swimming with sincerity. His hand lingers just next to your, longing to reach out and take your hand like he did so many times before. "I hate this. I hate being apart. I just keep waiting for you to walk through that door every single day. And every single day, you don't. And I get why you don't, and I know I screwed up, but I just want you to come home. I miss you."

"And I want to come home," you tell him. "And I miss you so much. So much, it physically hurts."

He guesses that there's an addendum to that, "But?"

"But this isn't going to go away, Buck. And we can't keep pretending that it will."

"I know that."

"If we don't want the same things anymore, then, maybe-" You can't bring yourself to say that maybe you're not meant to be. It tastes too bitter on your tongue. It feels too definite. The words make it too real. And, as it turns out, you don't have to finish the sentence. He knows what you mean.

His tone is flat as he asks you, "Is that what you want?"

It's his worst nightmare, of course. But if it's really what you wanted, if leaving him would make you happier, then he knew he would have to let you go.

"Of course it's not! This isn't what I want." You wildly gesture around the room, "None of this is what I want."

"Me either."

"So what so we do?"

He can't answer the question. He still doesn't know the answer. And now, you don't either. "You're it for me. This is it for me."

You can't help but notice that he still won't answer your question. And worse of all, now, your answer is just as unsure and indirect as his, "You're what I want."

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly like if he just hangs on, if he holds onto you, then maybe it'll be okay, maybe you can weather the storm. He just needs to hold on tight enough. "And you're what I want. More than anything."

You look down at his hand, dejectedly shaking your head. Your voice trembles, "What if that's not enough, Bucky? We're living two very different lives right now. Lives neither of us want to give up."

His arms rest against the counter. He holds his head in his hands, and from where you sit beside him, you can't see the silent tears streaming down his face, "How the hell did we lose sight of us?"

Your voice is as hollow as your eyes are, "I don't know."

"I'll be done if that's what you want," Bucky bargains. Only, you're not sure that he actually means it. You're only sure that this isn't what he wants, he's only placating you. "I'll walk away from the team, I'll be done."

"That's not what I want!" you desperately exclaim, frustrated that he still isn't understanding what you want from him.

"But you said-"

"I said I wanted a future. I want to know we're still moving forward. But I want that with someone who wants that... and I don't think you do," you quietly admit, looking down as tears well in your eyes.

"I do! I do want that. I'm just- I'm not done yet. I'm not finished. I haven't earned it yet."

"Earned it? Is that what this is about?"

It was a discussion you'd had before. About Bucky's feelings of being unworthy, of still punishing himself for his past. Therapy eased some his deepest fears and insecurities, but you both knew he still had quite a bit to work through when he stopped going a few months ago. To be honest, you were surprised that this hadn't come up sooner.

"No!" he almost shouts. "I'm not done. There's still more work to be done, that's what I mean."

"There's always going to be more work to be done." You beg him to see it, to see that this isn't a healthy way to live, that there would always be more work to do, always more people that would need saving. He couldn't put his life on hold waiting for the his work to be done. And he couldn't ask you to wait while he did that. "Always. Am I supposed to sit and wait until you decide that you're done?"

"And am I supposed to give up all my life's work?" he defensively counters.

You rub your temples over and over again, hoping to soothe the tension of another brewing fight, "So we're right back to where we started."

"Ain't that the way shit always ends," Bucky bitterly mutters.

"What are you talking about?" you demand.

"Things always end this way," Bucky replies. "They'll always go bad. It doesn't matter what you say, what you do, give any good thing a little time and it goes to shit. I can't count on much but I can count on that."

"That's a really fucked up way to think about life, Bucky." Your head snaps up at him, a mix of disgust and repulsion flood your tone before you can stop yourself, "Is that what you do? Spend your days wondering when exactly will be the moment our relationship will go bad?"

"Yes!"

Your face drops, and though that repulsion and disgust wasn't at him, but rather at the way he was treating himself, now you couldn't help but take his words to heart.

You thought he'd broken your heart before, but this wasn't just a heart breaking revelation, this shattered something deep in your chest. Something that you didn't think could be mended.

It wasn't a future he saw with you, it was a tragic ending. He didn't envision you walking down the aisle to him, he prophesied the day that you would leave him.

What were you supposed to do with that?

His words take the air out of your lungs, it takes you a very, very long moment to recover. When you speak, your voice is quiet, broken, and filled with anger, "So you've doomed us from the start? All those times you said that you saw a future, that you saw us going somewhere, none of that was true?"

"No, of course not. I don't - Sorta."

You stand up out of your seat with a huff, pacing the room up and down, "Jesus, Bucky. Sorta? That's your answer."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm fucked in the head. You - you can find someone else. Someone better. Someone that won't do this to you. You can forget about me, you know?"

You scoff, shaking your head, "You are such an asshole."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," he seethes.

"You just told me that you've always known that we wouldn't last, that you've never believed in us." You turn on your heels, glaring at him with storms in your eyes, "How am I supposed to take that? This is exactly what I'm talking about. This isn't about you trying to do the right thing, this is you being a coward."

"I am not being a coward!" he snaps.

Coward, hits him right in the gut. He'd spent his life trying to be anything but a coward. He'd walked headfirst into battle, kept his head held high in the face of death, and you'd seen right through him. You always manage to see right through him.

"Yeah, you are! You're too afraid to accept any good thing that comes your way." The anger in your words slowly fade. Defeat slowly seeps in, taking over once again. Your hands drop, slapping against your legs. "And I - I can't make you. You're not willing to fighting for us. You've never been willing to fight for us - and I can't make you."

You've seen this film before. And you didn't like the ending.

You once again stand in the center of the living room, right where you'd started this morning.

Bucky finally stands up, trailing you to the living room, "What do you want from me?"

You look at him once more and you know you don't have it in you. You can't take another explosive argument. You can't take convincing him that he needs to care or that something has to give. Not anymore. Maybe you'd feel differently tomorrow, but today, you've got to cut your losses. You just don't have it in you. You sigh in defeat, "I have to go. I should - I should go now."

"You don't-"

You raise a weak hand, stopping him mid sentence, "I shouldn't have just popped up here last night. That was a mistake."

"Don't go. Come on, please don't go," he begs, his words just a breath above a whisper.

"You need to figure out what you want."

You've said those words to him before. You said it the night you left him. "I know what I want."

"Then you need to figure out if that's worth fighting for. I'm tired of fighting alone. I'm just - I'm tired, James."

Bucky had experienced deja vu quite a few times in his long life. And with the number of times he'd experienced it in his life, he'd never experienced it as sharply, as painfully, as when he watches you walk into your bedroom and walk back out, once again ready to walk out of your home, out of his life all over again.

There's a part of him that's ready to let you go, that truly believes his words and believes that you could find something, someone better than the damaged man you called yours.

The other part, hears you this time around. He hears what he didn't before. He hears the warning signs you've given. He sees you suffocating in the silence. All he knows is he doesn't think he could take you walking out again. All he knows is that he isn't ready to lose you.

He gently grabs your wrist, stopping you before you can leave the apartment, "I've made this mistake before."

You look back with soft yet defeated eyes, "What are you doing?"

"Fighting for you." His hand skates down from your wrist down to your hand, squeezing it once, twice, three times. "And I don't know how to fix this, and I don't know how this ends, but I know I don't want you to leave. And I don't know if I've said it before, but I want you here. I want you with me. You belong with me. Here, in our home. That's what I want. And I know that doesn't fix everything, but I want to try. I want you. Forever."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310@buckysbarne

189 notes · View notes

techtalksfics · 1 year ago

Note

If i may...

A migrane care fic would be nice. Wrecker using his inside voice and letting you sleep on his chest. Or maybe using his big hand as an eye mask bc you lost yours.

Totally NOT a fantasy of mine or anything 🫣

I loved this request! Whilst I've luckily never had a migraine, I've had friends suffering from them so I hope this lives up to expectations.

It's the first real thing I've written for the Bad Batch in a long while so I'm super, super nervous to post. I really hope it's okay!

Migraine Support (Wrecker x gn!Reader)

Summary: Wrecker comes to the rescue when you're having a migraine. Cute support is offered.

Warnings: None - this is pure Wrecker fluff

Word Count: 947 words

"HEY, babe! You missed one hell of a mission. I mean the whole thing was like... BOOM!" Wrecker's loud and energetic voice reverberated through the entire bunk room as he entered the space looking for you. But then he noticed you lying on the bed, blocking out the lights with your hand over your eyes. Your hand was rather unsuccessfully doing the job based on the pained expression on your face. You were having the worst migraine you'd have in a while. Every time you moved your hands from your eyes, the agonising flashes of light you saw and the worsened throbbing in your head were truly unbearable, and even with your eyes closed, you were still feeling nauseous and the pain in the your head was agonising.

"OW!" You winced and groaned in pain as his voice decimates your brain. "Inside voice, Wrecker. Inside voice." He all but yelps in dismay, albeit he tries to do so quietly as he sees you lying there; a truly sorry sight for his eyes. He takes the sight in. You lying on your side, facing away from him with you hand over your eyes, clearly trying to block out the fluorescent lights in the bunk room. He reckoned your little hands weren't doing much in the way of removing the light from your vision. He frowned at the sight. He really did hate seeing you in pain.

You then feel the weight of the bunk droop and a hand gently falls to your waist as he sits beside you. He lowers his voice to what can only be described as a Wrecker whisper. It's not quite a whisper but it's close enough to one, you supposed. "Is it one of your migraines, baby?"

You nod a little, wincing as this movement did your pain no favours, keeping your hand over your eyes. "Where's your eye mask babe?" You shrug, not having a single clue or care as to where you'd left it this time. You were pretty sure you'd left it on Ord Mantell, on your last visit. But to be fair, it could be in any star system you'd visited since Ord Mantell and wherever the hell you are now. Either way, the pain and confusion brought on the migraine was blocking any reasonable thoughts on the matter. You really did not care. He lowers his voice even further, "wait right here...I'll be right back." His voice is kindly getting quieter and quieter for your benefit. When the bunk bounces up slightly, you gather he must be walking away.

"Where the hell else am I gonna go?" You retort somewhat bitterly as the pain is putting you more than a little on edge. He chuckles a little at that, mumbling 'good point' as he heads out to speak to Tech in the cockpit.

"Hey Tech," he says, approaching him quickly, "do ya think you could cut the lights to the bunks for a bit? They're having one of them migraines and the lights in the bunk ain't helpin'." Tech sighs a little but agrees, resolving the matter quickly.

"The lighting systems to the bunk room are now off," Tech confirms in a rush as he quickly goes back to the previous maintenance work he was performing.

Wrecker thanks him and quickly returns to you, attempting to be as quiet as possible as he now enters the dark bunk room. He sits beside you on the bunk again, his weight drooping the bed a little again, making his return obvious. He carefully whispers, "does that help at all?" You nod only a little, learning from your previous mistake. But you were still too scared to take your hand away from your eyes, wishing to avoid any extra pain.

After a few moments of silence, he clambers over you carefully, lying on the inside of the bunk beside you. His arm adjusts you in a surprisingly delicate and careful manner. He guides your body towards him and you naturally cuddle into him, an instinct you'd developed over the course of your relationship. The arm closest to you, slips under your neck, your head now resting on it. His fingers gently stroke your hair. He is trying so hard to keep as quiet as he can; showing you affection through action instead of words that would clearly only make things worse. After all, his indoor voice was not that much quieter than his normal voice.

"Do you, maybe, wanna use my hand to cover your eyes?" He seems somewhat nervous and careful when asking this, wondering if that might be an incredibly weird thing to suggest. But when your hand slowly falls away from your closed eyes, he quickly replaces it with his much larger, coarse one. The sheer size of his hand covers most of your face, and it perfectly blocks out all remaining light. You sigh a little in relief. That was much, much better.

"Thank you, sweetie," you mumble quietly, burying yourself into him a little more with your hand now over his chest. "These stupid migraines," you complain, "I wish they'd just stop. I hate it." The statement was honeyed with desperation and distress in equal measure but Wrecker simply held you closer, his hand massaging your head gently, playing with your hair in intervals, just how he knew you liked it. "Did - did Tech cut the lighting systems off in here?" The sudden realisation that the darkness in the bunk room was a lot more potent than it had been just minutes earlier.

"Yeah," Wrecker whispers gently, his breath tickling your hair, "I reckun you needed a bit of a break from the lightin' in here. He'll turn it back on after your migraine goes away." Your heart could melt at the softness and thoughtfulness of this beautiful man whose hand covered your eyes. You knew Wrecker struggled with quietness, being such a fan of explosions and chaos. His love and enthusiasm towards the chaotic battles and loud music was unmatched by anyone.

Suddenly, you felt a soft, small plushie being placed between you. ‘Lula,’ you thought to yourself, and you smiled a little at that. You know how much he loves Lula, she was the answer to all his sadness, and he clearly hoped it would be the same for you.

After a little while, you finally managed to take a small nap, waking up hours later, feeling slightly better than before. Wrecker slept peacefully beside you. The hand that had been covering your face was now holding your much smaller hand over his chest. You smiled softly at the sight. His innocent face contented by his slumber. For now, you were happy to just lay there with him and Lula of course; your sweet and loving Wrecker, the cuddly, caring bear had made that migraine feel so much better.

#the bad batch #reader insert #wrecker bad batch #wrecker bb #wrecker x reader #tech bad batch #requests open #request #taking requests

84 notes · View notes

cyantomatos · 11 months ago

Text

Even Stars Will Fall - Ch 12

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader x Ellaria Sand Word Count: ~5.5k Warnings: I'm gonna forego warnings on this chapter for the sake of spoilers, just this once. It's not anything worse than any of the previous chapters, so you should be good if you made it here, but if anyone has any concerns, just shoot me a message. Notes: Buckle up, we made it to the end. More notes after the chapter.

Last Chapter | Masterlist

Ellaria wakes in a dark room with alarm bells going off in her head.

It takes a moment to get her bearings, but she’s out of the bed before she’s fully stable and striding to the cradle tucked into the corner. She’d never been one to let her child be cared for by a stranger and kept in a nursery, and it wasn’t going to be any different with Dorea.

When she peeks over the side, careful to be quiet, the little newborn is sleeping peacefully. Ellaria lets out a breath, certain it was just paranoia over her child that woke her, but then she realizes the alarm bells haven’t quieted. Something is wrong, she doesn’t know how she knows it, but she does. And then she feels it, a weak tug in her gut, pulling her down the hall.

Oberyn is still in the main hall, still laughing and talking to guests when Ellaria bursts in. He’s never seen her like this before, so frantic, not even about their children. Immediately he’s at her side, stopping mid-conversation with some Northern lord to go to her. Her eyes are wide, hands shaking as he takes them in his. “What is it, what is wrong, my soul?”

“She isn’t in her room, she’s gone!”

You have a headache. Like, the worst headache you’ve ever had. Well, not the worst. You got a migraine once when you were twelve, and spent the whole day in bed because it hurt to move your eyes. This isn’t that bad, but it’s still bad.

Your brain boots up slowly. First the pain in your head registers, and then just how bright wherever you are is despite your eyes being closed. Soft fabric rubs against your cheek, and you realize you’re laying on your side against sheets that feel coarser than the ones on your bed despite their softness.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. The room around you swims into focus, and you blink a few times trying to clear the blurring from your vision.

You’re not in the palace anymore.

Whatever room you’re in is small and windowless. The bed you’re lying on is shoved into the corner, and there’s a dresser and a small vanity with a stool agains the opposite wall. The furniture is all well made, and obviously expensive, despite the dreary appearing of the room around them. The walls are bare wood, and you think it might be some sort of shed or storage room that was hastily outfitted.

The door at the far end of the room opens, and your stomach drops. Rylan is standing in the doorway, and in the few seconds before he steps in and closes the door you can see bright green plants behind him.

There’s a wide grin on his face, and the open friendliness he looks at you with stuns you for a moment. You’re so used to seeing him angry or smug or pretending at civility that the genuine expression almost breaks your brain.

“You’re awake! I was beginning to think you’d sleep the day away, my dear.”

You stare at him for a moment as he steps into the room and pushes the door closed with his foot, a tray balanced in his hands. As he walks towards you, you push yourself into a sitting position, scooting up against the headboard as far as you can. “Where am I?”

Rylan sets the tray on the vanity, and turns towards you with a cup in his hands. “My lands. Not in the main house, for right now, it would be too dangerous to have you there. Once it is obvious to my cousin that you belong with me, as my wife, you can move in there properly and have a room that befits a lady of the house.”

He holds the cup out to you with a smile, and your eyes flicker between it and his face. When you don’t take it, his smile falters, and it looks more like genuine upset than a mask slipping like it did the previous times you spoke to him. Instead of insisting he just shrugs, turning to place the cup back on the tray. “I know this may be a bit of a shock, my dear, but it is just temporary. I had to get you away from my cousin, he was clouding your mind. You could not think clearly, could not see that I only have your best interests at heart. He has that kind of effect on women, I am afraid.” Rylan shakes his head, frowning down at the tray of dishes for a moment.

After a moment of silence he turns back to you, smiling once again. “I cannot stay, my dear, I have important matters I must attend to. You will be safe here, I promise, and I will visit again soon.” He gestures to the wall above you, and you see a shelf above the bed with several books stacked on it. “Feel free to read while I am gone, I will see about getting you some other entertainment as well. Do you know how to embroider? Or draw? Well, no matter, you can learn all of that once we are married.”

Your mind is whirling, too much information to process at the moment making it hard to think. This isn’t the same confident, smarmy lord you’d dealt with at the palace. No, it seemed like he’d genuinely managed to delude himself into thinking you would go along with marriage if he only got you away from Oberyn.

Before you could react properly he turned, striding to the door. You scrambled off the bed, tripping towards him, still uncoordinated from whatever he used to knock you out.

“Rylan, wait! Wait, please, I don’t want to be here!”

The door shut firmly behind him, and you fell against it, desperately fumbling with the knob. It wouldn’t turn, and you leaned against the wood with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You were locked in here, at the mercy of that man.

The palace was in chaos.

The moment Ellaria had told Oberyn you were gone, he began tearing the palace apart. Every guest was ordered down to the main hall, and every room was searched. He lead the search himself, tearing apart rooms without concern for the consequences. Doran was summoned, but by the time he found his brother, Oberyn was already deep on the warpath.

The elder prince found his brother in a guest room, one that hadn’t been occupied by anyone that night, ripping the mattress off the frame. There were a handful of guards standing against one wall, expressions of concern fixed on the younger prince. Doran sighed as he watched his brother, gesturing for the guards to leave.

“Oberyn. This will not solve anything.” His brother turned to him, fury etched onto his face, and flung his arms wide.

“She is gone, Doran. Someone took her, from my palace, during my party. What do you expect me to do, sit quietly until they return her? She is our soulmate.” Some of the fury leaked out of his expression, morphing into desperation as Doran stepped towards his little brother.

“I expect you to think clearly. You are a prince, Oberyn, and currently you are not acting like one.”

Oberyn clenched his jaw, looking away from his brother. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like the words themselves pained him. “I cannot just sit here, Doran. I do not mean I do not want to, I mean I cannot. Every fiber of my being is driving me to look for her. For my soulmate.”

Doran softened at that. He sighed, reaching out to grip his brothers shoulders. “We will find her, brother mine. But you need to calm yourself. Flying off in a rage like this will not help her.” Oberyn nodded tightly, still refusing to look at his brother.

It’s late, when Oberyn makes it to bed that night. The entire palace had been scavenged top to bottom, a large quantity of it by Oberyn himself, but there’s still no sign.

Ellaria is in his room when Doran finally convinces him to get some sleep. She’s awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, and when she lifts her head Oberyn feels his heart break a little at the sight of her. Her eyes are red, and she can barely hold her head up from the exhaustion he feels dragging at his own bones as well. He knew Ellaria had been searching for most of the day, but they rarely crossed paths in his single-minded pursuit of their lost soulmate.

“Any news?” Her voice shakes, and he wishes he could give her something good.

Instead he shakes his head, swallowing hard. “No. No one has seen her.”

He steps forward, kneeling in front of her, grasping her hands in his as her head lowers again.

“We will find her, my soul. I swear. We will find her, and whoever took her will pay.”

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Rylan left, but a maid came in a few hours later and took the tray of untouched food away. You don’t want to take the chance that he’s put anything in the food, despite the pit growing in your stomach from hunger. For a moment, you consider overpowering the maid when she turns away with the tray, but she looks nervous and scared and won’t hardly look at you. You refuse to hurt someone innocent, not even to get yourself out of this situation.

When Rylan comes back, it’s dark outside behind him. He’s carrying a tray again, which he sets on the bed this time before sitting next to it. You try not to, but as he sits you shrink away, your body rebelling at just the thought of being near him.

“You need to eat, my dear. I know you are upset right now, I do understand, but starving yourself will fix nothing.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, and it’s almost enough to make you feel bad, until you remember what he did to you.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment before something falters in his gaze, and he lets out a sigh. “I know things are difficult right now, and you think I am being unfair. But trust me, my dear. You will be much happier here, with me, than you ever would have been being a third wheel to the prince and his whore.”

You do managed to keep your expression neutral at his words, despite the anger building inside you at the way he talks about Oberyn and Ellaria. There’s an instinctual rage deep in your heart, listening to this man talk like he knows what’s best for you, like what’s best for you isn’t being with your soulmates. It’s hard to ignore, but you keep your expression neutral, worried that if you upset him you’ll lose the weird kindness he’s been treating you with.

You do not, however, manage to keep yourself from jerking away when he puts a hand on your arm. He looks surprised, and then hurt, his hand still hovering where your arm had been moments before. For a moment, as emotions flicker across his face, you’re worried you managed to upset him after all, and you’ll get the angry, selfish lord that you knew him as before.

Instead, he smiles, the expression wavering slightly, and stands. “You need time. My cousin’s influence over you has to fade on its own. I will wait, my dear, until you understand the favor I am doing you.”

Doran bursts into his brother's room very early the next morning. Early enough that it’s still mostly dark out, and Oberyn and Ellaria sit up in bed with a start, a knife in Oberyn’s hand instantly.

“I apologize for the early hour, brother, but there is news you need to hear.”

Moments later he is in Doran’s office, staring down a scared woman that looks like she’s trying to blend into the fabric of the chair in front of his brother's desk. Ellaria stands at his side, hand gripped tightly in his own, as the woman speaks.

“I-I work at Lord Rylan’s manor. He was out very late, the night of the prince’s celebration, and when he came back he had a woman with him. I did not know who she was, and she was unconscious, but I did not say anything. I could not risk my job, I-” She pauses, shrinking away from Oberyn’s thunderous expression. Ellaria nudges him, glaring up at him, before turning to give the woman an encouraging look.

“I did not see where he took her, but yesterday afternoon, the housekeeper told me to go fetch a tray from one of the outbuildings. The woman was in there, and she looked scared. I still did not know who she was, or what I could do to help her, but then last night we got word of your missing woman, and I realized it must be her. I do not…trust his intentions with her, my prince, he has been talking all day yesterday to anyone who will listen about how we will have a new lady soon, he just needs to convince her. I was not able to get away until very late last night, not without someone noticing, and I came here immediately.” The words all come out in a rush, and when she finishes speaking Doran sighs.

“It was brave of you to come, my dear. I will have someone show you to a room you can stay in, here in the palace, until this situation is dealt with.”

The silence in the room hangs heavy until the woman is gone, and Doran finally looks at his brother. Oberyn’s gaze is on Ellaria, and for a moment Doran feels like an intruder with the way they seem to communicate without words.

Finally, Oberyn’s shoulders drop, and Ellaria lets out a breath, apparently the winner in whatever silent argument they were having. Oberyn looks at his brother, voice shaking. “We cannot leave her there, brother.”

“No, we cannot. I already suspected Rylan had a hand in your soulmate’s disappearance, but without proof I could not act. This is the proof we needed.” He stands, his expression grim. “You will have to wait, just a bit, until I have the men to go with you, but I will not stand in your way Oberyn.”

You're not sure how much time passes. There's no window in this little building, and you're almost positive food isn't being brought on any real schedule. After Rylan leaves, you sleep for a while, and when you wake there's another tray sitting on the vanity. It concerns you a little, that someone must have been in here while you were asleep without you noticing. It's enough to make you sit up in the corner of the bed, back pressed resolutely against the wall, determined not to sleep anymore.

You also still don't trust the food. Rylan seems nice, for now, but you still wouldn't put it past him to drug the food somehow. You don't know this world well enough yet to know what kinds of drugs are possible here, and what they might do to your mind or body if consumed. It's safer, for now, not to eat or drink any of the food or water brought to you.

After a while, you think a few hours, the door opens and Rylan enters again. This time, when he sees the still-untouched tray of food, you see a flicker of the rage in his eyes that you'd been expecting since you first woke in this tiny room. It's gone a moment later, however, and that pleading sadness is back on his face by the time he looks at you.

"I do not understand how my cousin sank his claws into you so deep in such a short time, my dear. Is the thought of being with me truly so repulsive that you would rather starve?" You hate the tone he's using, like you're a child that needs to be reasoned with, and before you can stop yourself you're replying.

"You kidnapped me. You stole me out of my bed in the middle of the night and locked me in here, and you expect me to be happy?"

Rylan flinches. It'd be satisfying if you weren't mentally berating yourself for provoking him. There's no telling when his mood might finally shift, and you don't want to find out what the Lord Rylan you knew before will do with no one around to stop him.

As you brace yourself, Rylan looks at you for a moment, lips pursed. Finally he sighs, deflating slightly, and his voice has an edge to it now that wasn't there before. "You still do not understand. I am doing what is best for you, my dear. My cousin gets everything he wants, women, money, power, but he cannot have you. My methods were rough, I will admit, but you will see." He crosses to the vanity, looking thoughtfully down at the uneaten food. "You know, my dear, if you do not choose to eat soon I will have to force the matter. I do not want to upset you further, but if you give me no choice..."

A spike of fear shoots through you at this glimpse of the old Rylan, and without thinking you press yourself back against the wall behind you. Your eyes dart to the door, mind frantically working. You don't think you've seen him lock it the few times he's come in. If he comes at you, you might be able to get to the door. You don't know where you are, or what might be waiting for you outside, but anything is better than being at his mercy. You're sure of that.

Before you need to worry about any of that, however, the door opens. Rylan turns away from the food, annoyance flashing on his face in the few seconds you can see it and filling his voice. "What."

There's a scared looking young man peeking through a crack in the door. He's only opened it enough to wedge his head and shoulders through, and the look on his face suggests he'd rather be baiting rabid dogs than delivering whatever news he has. "M-my lord, the prince is here."

Rylan goes perfectly still as your heart immediately soars. You had hoped Oberyn would come, but you couldn't be sure he would even be able to find you. It hits you, faintly, that just a few days ago you might not have been so certain the prince would come for you, but after the discussion with him and Ellaria the night of the party, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that they would both move mountains to find you.

For a second, you almost feel sorry for Rylan when you look at him. He's spent his life being overshadowed by his royal cousin, that part you have no doubt is true despite his delusions around everything else, and now Oberyn is here to take you away. Again, in his head most likely. You'd feel sorry for anyone, really, standing between Oberyn and what he wants. That sliver of pity, however, promptly shrivels up when seconds later you see Rylan straighten and sneer at the young man. "The prince. My cousin finally deigns to visit me, then. He's smarter than I gave him credit for, if he worked out I was the one to take her this quickly."

He turns to you, and you feel proper fear this time at the expression on his face. "Worry not, my dear. I will not allow him to take you from me."

Rylan was gone for less than a minute before you moved.

You needed to get out. You were over the moon that Oberyn was here, but there was no guarantee he'd be able to find you, and you couldn't just wait and hope. All you had to do was get out of this room and find Oberyn. It was a much more manageable list than before, especially since you still had no idea what was waiting outside that door.

It was easier than you thought to get the door unlocked. Well, unlocked wasn't really the right word.

The benefit to your kidnapper trying to make you as comfortable as possible and deluding himself into believing he could make you want to stay was that he hadn't put any thought into how useful the things in your room could be in an escape. For instance; heavy books make great tools to knock handles off of doors.

It took a few tries, and with every loud thump your anxiety ratcheted up a notch, but with one last swing, the handle finally clattered to the floor. You dropped the book, sliding a finger into the hole left in the door to slowly pull it open. When there was no immediate sign you'd been spotted you peeked out from around the edge of the door, finally taking in the sights outside your prison.

You knew Dorne was a diverse country, but most of what you had seen at this point pretty closely resembled a desert. You'd never ventured far from the seaside castle, however, so it came as a bit of a shock when you realized the area surrounding your prison was a riot of green. It looked like you were in the middle of a rainforest with the amount of dense vegetation surrounding the clearing you were in. There was a rather large building that you only just now realized one side of your room was connected to, and after your senses adjusted you realized you could hear the sounds of animals coming from it. Rylan must have outfitted some kind of storage shed attached to a barn to hold you.

That right there spoke volumes to how he regarded you.

You took a cautious step out of the building, looking around. There didn't seem to be anyone in the area, and for a moment a paranoid part of your brain wondered if this was a test to see how you would react to an opportunity to escape. You physically shook your head to dislodge that thought, determined not to let fear guide your actions. You needed out of here, and sitting in your pretty prison too scared to move wasn't going to get you anywhere.

Slowly, placing your feet carefully, you crept forward until you reached the edge of the barn. You weren't letting fear guide you, but that didn't mean you shouldn't be cautious. When you peeked around the edge of the building, a wall of the same dense vegetation you'd seen all around you met you just a few feet away. There was a path leading through the foliage, and you could just barely see the same kind of stone that was used for the palace at Sunspear peeking through the bright green vegetation. A quick scan showed that there wasn't anyone in the area, so you crept forward along the path, praying to any gods that might be listening no one caught you.

As you came towards the end of the path the building came into view. The clearing it sat in was large, and the building itself was absolutely massive. Not as massive as the palace, but still, obviously what would be considered a home fit for a lord. It was built in the same design as the palace you'd spent so much time in at Sunspear, with the same sun-bleached tan walls and open window designs. Just the sight of it made your heart squeeze in homesickness, and you realized in that moment how deeply you'd come to regard the palace as your home. You'd only been in this world for a matter of weeks, and yet you already felt like you belonged here more than you ever had anywhere else.

You followed the edge of the house towards what you hoped was the front, slowing your steps as you got closer and realized you could hear voices. You instantly recognized Oberyn’s voice, hearing the tension in his otherwise cool tone as he responded to something Rylan said. You crept forward, peeking around the corner of the house.

Oberyn was standing at the front of the house, several men dressed in his house’s colors standing behind him. Rylan stood in front of him, his own men behind him, arms crossed as he obviously tried to make himself look more visually intimidating in front of Oberyn’s casual confidence. You could see the tension in Oberyn’s shoulders, however, and you knew how tight of a grip he must be keeping on his temper as he faced down his cousin. Ellaria stood several feet behind Oberyn’s group, two men standing on either side of her, a mixture of anger and anxiety written on her face.

You’d meant to stay back far enough that hopefully no one would see you, unsure what situation you were walking into, but Ellaria’s eyes met yours almost instantly, like she was drawn to you. You saw her mouth open, to far away to hear anything, but she must have gasped with the way Oberyn instantly turned to look at her. He turned back, following her gaze, and his own eyes went wide when he spotted you.

You took a step forward, forgetting for a moment the situation and where you were, and were instantly ripped back into reality at the sound of swords being drawn. Instantly, there were five different swords pointed at Oberyn, close enough that his own guards would be able to do little to protect their prince. Rylan’s men had stepped forward as Oberyn had spotted you, the lord spotting you at the same time as his cousin thanks to Ellaria’s reaction.

Rylan closed the few feet over to you, one hand closing roughly around your arm to drag you out from around the side of the building. “I should have known you would come running at the chance to see your prince again.” He spat out the word like it disgusted him, coming to a stop a few feet behind the men that currently had swords pointed at one of your soulmates.

You’d never seen Oberyn scared, before, not even when Ellaria was in labor. You’d seen him ruffled, perhaps worried, but never scared. You felt fear spread through your own body like an icy river at the pure terror in his eyes now, though, as he watched his cousin drag you forward. Your eyes darted back to Ellaria, fighting back panic at the fear on her face as well.

Oberyn held up one hand, slowly, eyes darting quickly to one of the swords pressed close to him before focusing back on his cousin. “Rylan, please, think this through. Doran already knows you took her, he sent me. What do you think is going to happen here?”

Rylan sneered at his cousin. “You think you’ve won again. You think I will cave, let the girl go running back to you and your whore because, what? Because of fear of you? Of your brother? If you have not noticed, cousin, you are the one with swords to your throat, and your dear brother is all the way in Sunspear. I could slaughter you and your whore and be halfway across the continent by the time Doran manages to mobilize his men to come after me.”

You took an involuntary step towards Oberyn and Ellaria at the threat against them, only to be jerked back by Rylan’s grip on your arm. He looked down at you then, rage twisting his face into a grimacing sneer.

Rylan quickly yanked a knife out of the sheath at his side with his free hand, bringing it up to drag under your chin, forcing your head up towards him to avoid being cut. “Then again, that would leave me with a woman forever pining for someone else. I could break her, I suppose, loving me would be a bonus, not a necessity. But it would get tiring. And it would be oh so satisfying to kill her in front of you.”

He looked back up, knife still pressed to your throat, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Suddenly, cousin, I am the one holding all of the cards for once.”

You met Oberyn’s eyes again, reading the terror written there, and you could practically see his mind racing as he tried to find a way out of this situation for all of you. “Rylan, cousin, don’t do this. Would you really rather live in exile, or die, than see her with us?”

Rylan scoffed, and you winced as his hand jerked slightly and dug the knife further into your skin.

"I would rather see us all die, cousin, than see you win again."

All of the fear flowing through your body like icy spears suddenly went hot, like a switch being flipped, morphing into rage and indignation.

How dare he?

How dare he try and steal you as though you were a toy to be taken from his cousin? How dare he tell his men to point swords at your soulmate? How dare he use your life to threaten them? How dare he?

You turned to him carefully, forcing yourself to look away from where Oberyn stood with swords to his neck and Ellaria stood in helpless terror behind him, ignoring the way the movement made the knife slide against your skin.

"Look at me."

The force in your voice, more power than you'd commanded before, compelled him to look down at you, a sneer still plastered on his face. The moment he met your gaze, however, his face went slack.

“I see you, Lord Rylan. I see your blackened, rotted soul. You want to be a big, scary man, but you aren’t. You’re a scared, lonely little boy, lashing out because he could never make any friends or get a girl to give him a spare glance. You thought it was because your cousin distracted them with his title and his riches, but that wasn’t it, was it?” You sneered right back at him, channeling all of your hate and anger into your voice. “It was you, Rylan. They all saw you, who you really were, and wanted nothing to do with you. You would have been alone with or without your cousin there. You always were, and still are, worthless and repulsive. I never would have wanted you regardless of if I had met my soulmates, because I always saw what you are. A jealous, possessive, mean little man that thinks he can take what he wants and blames others for his problems.”

The slack look on Rylan’s face slowly morphed as you spoke, horror spreading across his face as he stood there, frozen. He shook his head, stammering, “What…what are you doing?”

You reached up, wrapping one hand around the wrist of the hand holding the knife to your neck, easily pulling it away from you. “But I have a present for you, Lord Rylan. A gift. You wanted my magic so badly, so here. Have a taste.” You watched as his eyes clouded over, and held tightly as he tried to jerk his arm out of your grasp. For a moment he stood there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, and then he screamed.

You let go, letting him stumble backwards until he tripped over his own feet, landing hard on the ground. He writhed where he fell, simultaneously reaching out to ward off something only he could see away and also clawing at his own face, his screams filling the air around you. You watched, a feeling of satisfaction and pride spreading through you.

A hand on your arm broke your concentration and you turned, finding Oberyn and Ellaria standing at your side. You glanced over their shoulders, seeing Oberyn’s men holding swords to Rylan’s men, his side apparently distracted enough by their lord falling into a fit to be overtaken by Oberyn’s men.

You realized then that you were clutching your necklace tightly in the hand that hadn’t been holding Rylan’s wrist, and when you managed to uncurl your fingers from the death grip you’d had on the pendant, the sight that met you somehow didn’t surprise you at all.

The brilliant blue had leeched out, leaving what looked like a hollow, plain glass pendant hanging around your neck.

You looked back up, eyes suddenly filling with tears as the adrenaline from the last few minutes bled out of your body. Instantly you were engulfed in your soulmate’s arms, pressed between them, and you finally relaxed.

“We have you, my sunflower, you are safe.” Ellaria’s muffled voice washed over you, soothing the lingering terror you felt. Oberyn pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering a promise against your hair. “No one will take you from us ever again, my soul. Never.”

We made it guys. Almost two years and 12 chapters later and we made it, finally. I am genuinely so sorry for how long it took for me to finish this fix, it ended up being beefier and so much more work than I was expecting, but I got there in the end. There's going to be an epilogue eventually, but I don't know when that will happen.

For now, thank you guys for sticking with me, welcome to the people just showing up, and I hope you enjoyed the ride ❤

(And now that we're done, if any of you want to send me questions, feel free!)

Taglist:

@sarahjkl82-blog @ecuadorlady @fan-of-encouragement @obscurexsorrows @badwolf-on-baker-st @felicisimor @local-mr-frog @knivesareout @writeforfandoms @gorgeousgrogu @leto-duke @xoxabs88xox @kirsteng42 @hauntedmama @urofficial-cyberslut @marvelousmermaid @tanzthompson @lowlights @dobbyjen @casa-boiardi @ace-spades-1

Join my taglist here!

#oberyn martell #ellaria sand #oberyn martell x reader #ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #eswf #even stars will fall

41 notes · View notes

dimplessjoon · 10 months ago

Text

Namjoon Stress Fever

@bluepeacelove

God its been forever since i posted. I am so sorry it took so long. I haven't been able to write at all. I don't really like it, but I can't seen to make it any better. Sorry if you find this disappointing. Hopefully you'll be able to somewhat enjoy it. Thank you for requesting.

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

“Joon-ah, come on open up.” Jin says knocking on Rkive’s door.

Namjoon opens the door and gets back to working.

“What is it, hyung?” Namjoon asks, eyes focused on the computer screen.

“Gosh, why is it so hot in here, any way, forget about that, just pack up Joonie, we’re going home.” Jin says

“Sorry Hyung, you go on ahead, I still have a lot of work to finish.” Namjoon says his eyes still focused on the screen and his fingers working on the keyboard.

“Namjoon, you haven’t been home in days, and it looks like you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep forever. You need rest, otherwise you’re gonna get sick.” Jin says

"Hyung, I'm fine, besides I have too much work to finish. I don't have time to rest." Namjoon adds on still focusing on his work.

Jin comes next to him and takes the mouse from his hand saving his work and shutting off his computer.

"Hyung" Namjoon says protesting to what Jin is doing.

"No Namjoon, your health comes first, when was the last time you had a proper meal, or proper rest. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you neglect yourself. We can talk to the management and extend your deadlines. But right now we're going home. " Jin says

"But..." Namjoon says

"No buts, get up we're going home." Jin says holding his hand to get him up, but when he touches it he realizes it's hot.

Jin moves his hand up to touch Namjoon's forehead and gasps.

"Namjoon, you have a fever, see this is why I tell you not to overwork yourself, but since you didn't listen now you're sick. Come on let's get you home and resting." Jin says helping Namjoon up

Namjoon is reluctant for a bit but soon gives up to Jin's wishes knowing he is not gonna back down. And in all honesty, Namjoon himself knows he needs the rest. He feels like shit, his stomach hurts, his whole body aches, he has a terrible migraine and he feels way too cold. Now, it makes sense that he has been having all these symptoms since he has a fever.

Jin guides Namjoon to his car and drives him back to the dorm. But the moving car makes Namjoon's stomach feel queasy.

"Stop, the car hyung." Namjoon says putting his hand over his mouth.

"What?" Jin says but soon realizes what's going on so he stops the car.

Namjoon rushes out of the car and goes by a tree and starts heaving, but nothing more than some water and stomach acid comes up due to the lack of food in his body. Jin comes up behind him and starts rubbing his back.

After a while Namjoon stops and they go back to the car and Jin gives some water to Namjoon.

Namjoon drinks some water to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

"Thanks" Namjoon says

"Let's wait a bit for your stomach to settle and then we can go home." Jin adds helping Namjoon sit down in the passenger seat.

After a while they start to go home, and Namjoon tries to keep himself from throwing up and luckily he doesn't throw up again, however when he goes into the elevator to get to his apartment, his stomach starts going into knots, and he feels like throwing up.

As soon as the elevator stops he rushes towards the door and unlocks it and makes a run towards the bathroom where he starts throwing up again. The water he drank earlier came up and he continued to throw up even after there was nothing left in his stomach. Jin helps him get up takes him to the couch where the other members are waiting worried for their leader after he rushed in.

"Hyung are you okay?" Jimin asks sitting next to Namjoon on the couch.

"He's sick" Jin says

"Yoongi, can you please make some soup for him. We need to get some food into him. Jungkook can you get the thermometer, and Tae get some fever reducers and nauseau medicine. Hobi and Jimin-ah you guys stay here with him, I'll go with Yoongi to help make the soup." Jin lists of things for everyone to do.

"My poor Joonie" Hobi says sitting next to him and running his hands through his hair, Jimin brings a blanket and puts it over Namjoon to make him feel more comfortable and joins the other two on the sofa.

Everyone soon comes back, and Jungkook gives Namjoon the thermometer. After it beeps Jungkook takes it sees the tempreature.

"101.2 F, not too bad but still high." Jungkook says

Here Joonie eat the soup and then you can take the medicines.

"Thanks guys." Namjoon says and slowly starts eating the soup. After eating some he stops due to his nausea rising.

"Hyung just try to eat a bit more." Taehyung says.

"No, I'm done." Namjoon says relenting to eat more as he knows if he does he'll soon throw up.

"Fine Joonie, here take some medicine." Jimin says, when it was sure they couldn't convince Namjoon to finish his soup.

"Why don't you sleep and get some rest Namu, it'll help you feel better." Hoseok says.

Namjoon nods and get comfortable on the couch with his head in Hoseok's lap and Hobi runs his hand through his hair. Jin puts a bucket by his side just in case he needs it later.

Namjoon soon falls asleep and everyone starts doing their own things. Jin reading a book, Yoongi doing something on his laptop, Hoseok going through his phone while still running his hand through Namjoon's hair, and the maknaes playing a video game on the TV.

The maknaes get a bit excited and starts getting a little loud.

"Guys, Namjoon is sleeping chill out." Yoongi whispers trying to make the quite.

"Sorry hyung" Jimin says as the three of the quite down.

After some time Jungkook shouts, "Yah Taehyung stop cheating, if you do this I'm not gonna play with you anymore."

This startles Namjoon awake.

"Huh, what's happening." Namjoon says confused as he jumps up from his sleep.

"Its ok Joon-ah calm down go back to sleep" Hoseok say trying to get him to lay back down.

But he rushes forward taking the bucket Jin put in his hands and starts throwing up. The sudden movements and waking up making him nauseous.

Soon after he calms down and Hoseok helps him clean up a bit, before helping him lie down again. Jin takes the bucket and cleans it out, and glares at the maknae line for disturbing Namjoon.

The three maknaes look at each other and the floor feeling guilty about waking Namjoon up and cauing him to throw up. After a while Namjoon falls asleep again.

"Hobi, cover Joon-ah's ears." Jin whispers.

After Hoseok does it, Jin starts running after the Maknaes and shouting.

"WE TOLD YOU TO KEEP IT QUIET! Now look what you did you made poor Joonie get sick again. I swear to god you kids have no respect for your elders." Jin says

The maknaes running away from him and vehemently apologizing. While the other two members quietly laugh at their members shenanigans.

#bts #bts rm #sick!namjoon #sickfic #sicknamjoon #bts jimin #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #emeto #bts yoongi #bts fanfic #bangtan #taehyung #namjoon #hobi

32 notes · View notes

jun-of-love · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii can I pls request reader taking care of Jun when he’s sick and calls her in the middle of the night to come over and help him (like maybe he has a migraine or something) ❓💖

Such a cute prompt wow! Thanks a lot for sending in a request :) I'm gonna be honest I thought so much about this but I couldn't find an appropriate (and interesting!) way to write this for a long time. This is what I've come up with, I hope you like it <3

It’s 12 a.m.

You stare at your phone screen for the hundredth time this night. Your “good night <3” message has been left on delivered for 2 hours now. Granted, he didn’t have to reply- you were not dating or anything- just hanging out, or ‘in a situationship’, if you may. It’s been six months since you met him, as a creative director for his solo comeback. Ever since then you had been seeing each other, work and outside of it- and your best friend was of the opinion that your relationship should have been exclusive by now. She had a point, but relationships in the showbiz industry didn’t have the same rules as ordinary life, and even though it hurt you, you didn’t want to lose him. Your thoughts slowed down and felt yourself drifting off to sleep, your grip still tight on the phone, careful of any movement.

You were enjoying the bliss of your meaningless dreams when your phone suddenly started buzzing endlessly. It was 2 a.m., what kind of lunatic wanted to talk to you at this hour?

It was Wen Junhui.

You huddled up, clearing your throat as much as possible to bring out your most attractive sleepy voice ever. “Hello?” you whispered, imagining him clutching his heart and kicking his legs in excitement because you picked up the phone.

“Um, hello? Y/n?” You blushed, his hoarse voice sounded so sexy!

Wait, his voice was too hoarse…almost like he was sick?!

“Hey Jun, are you okay? You don’t sound too well.” You made no effort to hide how worried you were.

“Y/n I- I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your message-” He was concerned about that? “-I’m just down with terrible migraine and I can’t bear to look at screens.”

“Okay, it’s totally fine, you don’t even need to apologize for that,” you hear a groan from his side. Wow, he had to be in a lot of pain. “I’m coming over.” You declared, already packing up necessities. He didn’t have to say it, you already knew why he had called.

“I’ll see you then.” Hah, you thought, he was too sick to even politely decline as a courtesy. Not that you minded, but still.

You reach his place, pushing in his passcode like its everyday for you. It was pretty common for you to be at his place, but the context was totally different then.

“What happened to my little Junnie?” you hoped the joke would land, even if your audience member was writhing in pain right now.

Jun chuckled a little, turning towards you, wincing in the process. “I even canceled my late night practice today, this bitch of a migraine is not letting me live.”

You let out a laugh. This man is still in his jeans- how does he expect to feel better? “Did you take any medicine?”

“No.”

“Heat pads?”

“No.”

“Did you at least eat?”

“No.”

“You are stupid.” You sigh. “But you’re so lucky to have me.” You add sarcastically. “Change your clothes till the time I heat the porridge I’ve got you. You eat it and then take the medicine I give you okay?” Jun simply nodded, smiling slightly.

By the time you come back with his porridge and medicine, Jun had changed into his comfy pajamas. You avoided looking at him because if this guy got any cuter, you’ll probably buy him a ring and pop the question. You preferred to stay silent as he ate, because sound usually worsened his migraines, and you were not sure if your relationship was of the kind that your voice would be an exception to this.

“Why are you not talking?” Jun mumbled, his mouth full of porridge. You smiled, wiping a bit of porridge from the corner of his lips. “I know you prefer silence when you have migraines. Sounds make it worse right?”

“Yeah, but your voice is not a sound- it’s a voice and I like it- it is soothing and…..and, it makes me feel better.” He pouted.

Ah, why would he say that now?

“You’re sick, you should probably lie down now,” you try to change the subject, clearing up his bowl and water. You make him lie down, putting a cooling eye mask on his eyes. “This will make you feel better, I know your eyes hurt whenever you get migraines.”

The atmosphere was suddenly uncomfortable, it seemed like he had also grasped the meaning of what he had said. Did he regret it? Did he not mean it? You felt foolish, running around for someone in the middle of the night to take care of them, only to realize you probably like them way more than they like you.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for not making me say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I wanted you to come over.” Jun whispers. “I wouldn’t have been able to ask you if you didn’t take the initiative.”

Why did that feel like a punch to the gut? “Uhm, you’re welcome I guess?” Your disappointment somehow made its way to your tone. You could tell, because he took his eye-mask off and sat upright.

“I’ve just been taking you so much for granted lately, I don’t think I would’ve had the conscience to ask you to do such a favor for me.” He took your hand in his. You tried to keep your face straight despite your nerves tingling hopelessly.

“It’s not a favo-”

“But you knew I won’t be able to ask this of you and you came here to take care of me, ” he cuts you off. “You’re such a lovely person y/n, I wish I had met you sooner.”

You don’t know what to say. You open and close your mouth, closely resembling a fish, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. “I like you Y/n.”

What’s that now?

“I like you so so much.” He continued. You felt a blush creeping up your neck towards your face. Jun looked at you hopefully. He brought up both of your hands and kissed them softly. “I’m sorry to bring it up in a moment like this, when there’s a literal shit-orchestra playing in my head, its 3.30 in the morning and I’m looking like a frazzled orangutan but this question cannot be delayed anymore,” He took a deep breath, “will you be my girlfriend?”

He was so dramatic, wow. You giggled a little, trying to hide how taken aback you were. “Sure, it will be my pleasure.” Jun’s face lit up as if Christmas had come early. He pulled you in for a big hug, burying his head in your neck. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to ask you this, but my perfect moment never seemed to come.”

You laugh, “Am I supposed to say something corny like, every moment is perfect with you?” You hear his chuckle. You pull away, making him lie down on the bed, putting his eye-mask back on. “C’mon you need to sleep now.” You say in your sternest voice possible.

“Wow, you’re so sexy,” he mumbles softly, “is it too early to say that I love you?”

“Shut up!”

92 notes · View notes