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heliads · 7 months ago

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want you, need you - minho

Ever since you became a Med-Jack, Minho can't seem to stop collecting random injuries that absolutely require your attention. You might be catching on.

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The Med-Jack hut is either overwhelmingly busy or frustratingly slow, no in between. There are days when every single room in the place is crammed full of patients– somehow, every Slicer manages to cut themselves, and every Builder breaks a bone�� and you wish you had picked any other job than this one. The busy days are rough. You start wondering what might happen if you stopped being able to put people back together as quickly as they fall apart. You think about the endless cycle of injury and healing until everyone wears out entirely, a map of bandages and skin pressed thin like dead leaves.

Those are the hopeless days. Then, you’ll have a dry spell, when everyone manages to get their stuff together and no one complains of sprained ankles or excessive sunburns. At that point, you start twiddling your thumbs and mindlessly organizing and reorganizing the medical supplies. By the end, you almost start wishing people would get hurt just so you’d have something to do. It’s an uncharitable thought, certainly, and one you regret once you’re stuck in the middle of another hurricane of aching Gladers, but when there’s nothing else to do, it comes nonetheless.

You’ve found yourself in the middle of another boring week. For the past few days, the Slicers have remembered how to hold their knives so they chop the animals and not themselves, the Builders hit their nails with their hammers instead of their thumbs, and the Runners don’t give themselves cramps and stay in perfect health.

Well. Not every Runner.

Even during the most boring stretches of your admittedly short career as a Med-Jack, you can guarantee that you’ll have one specific patient. Just like clockwork, every few days a certain dark-haired, teasing someone shadows your door, complaining of overworked tendons, pulled hamstrings, heatstroke, and every other medical condition under the sun. If Minho can think it up, he’ll say he’s got it.

It’s honestly becoming ridiculous. For someone who’s such a capable Runner, it is truly remarkable that he survives so many ailments. One would think he would give up running entirely if it gave him this much grief. Yet every day, Minho sets out for the Maze with a cheerful disposition, and at least two times a week, he appears in the Med-Jack hut, sporting some new injury that materialized at some point during the day.

So, when you look up from labeling the medicine cabinet for what must be the dozenth time this month, and realize that you haven’t seen the Keeper of the Runners in a few days, you know that it’s about time for him to come down with the flu, a severe migraine, or maybe both at once.

True to form, you’ve barely finished going through the medications on one shelf of the cabinet when Jeff, one of your fellow Med-Jacks, comes into the room. “You have a patient,” he says impatiently. “Guess who?”

You roll your eyes, although you can’t help a small smile. “Can’t you handle Minho yourself?”

Jeff gives you a look. “I tried. He told me he wanted to wait for a professional. Figures.”

You snort. “You’ve been here longer than I have.”

“I told him that,” Jeff complains. “This might surprise you, but he didn’t care.”

“Tell him again,” you say, turning back to the pill bottle you’re labeling. “I’m busy.”

Jeff heaves a dramatic sigh. “I’m not wasting my time with that. He’s your problem, go fix him.”

You shoot him a confused glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Jeff retorts, reaching over to grab the bottle out of your hands. “Ever since you started here, Minho randomly comes over all the time. You know he used to hate visiting the Med-Jacks before you arrived? Now he can’t stop showing up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you protest weakly.

Jeff sighs again, so deeply you swat him on the shoulder. “That’s klunk and we both know it. The data doesn’t lie, Y/N.”

“There’s no data,” you argue, but Jeff’s already waving you out of the room.

You make a face at him, then go down the hall until you find Minho waiting in one of the smaller rooms meant for patients. He’s poking at some supplies on a small table in a corner of the room, but he straightens up excitedly when he sees you.

“Doc! I’m so glad you’re here.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “What have you done to yourself now, Minho?”

“That’s no way to treat a patient,” Minho frowns exaggeratedly. “Whatever happened to bedside manner?”

“You got bedside manner the first ten times you showed up for no reason,” you tell him pointedly. “After that, you get whatever I feel like. You should be happy I’m still giving you bandages. We only have so many, you know that? Maybe I’ll start charging you a fee.”

“I can pay,” Minho says lazily, leaning forward so you can feel his breath hot on the side of your face. One of his hands starts to curl around your side, pulling you closer to him.

Dangerous, he is. You idly push him away with your palm, pretending to examine the supplies he’d been poking at earlier so you have time for the heat to leave your face. “How about you just tell me what’s wrong with you this time?”

Minho sighs dramatically. “Well, since you care so much, I’ll have to tell you that I’ve broken an ankle. It hurts so bad. This might be it for me, Y/N.”

You arch a brow. “Which ankle?”

He pauses a moment, thinking. “Left.”

“You’re standing on it just fine right now,” you point out.

Immediately, Minho shifts all of his weight onto his right leg, grabbing the back of a nearby chair for support. “No, I’m not. Look, I can’t bear the pain. It hurts.”

You just look at him. Minho looks back at you, unable to stop the corners of his lips from curling up into a proud half-smile. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” You ask.

He gasps. “Y/N. Are you trying to discredit your own patients? Some Med-Jack you are. I bet Clint would trust me.”

“Then go talk to Clint,” you say, making for the door.

Minho hurries over, flinging out an arm to close the door before you can open it. “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. You’re the only Med-Jack for me, I swear it. Clint is nothing to me.”

You take an obvious glance towards his feet. “That ankle sure seems to be healing fast, huh? You moved over here like it was nothing.”

Minho leans his back against the door. “Alright, you got me. Nothing’s wrong with the ankle. Still, my lungs have been feeling exhausted lately, that might be something–”

“That’s because you run everywhere,” you say, grinning in spite of yourself at his antics. “Come on, Minho, you’ll have to get a better excuse someday.”

“My bad for wanting to see you,” he returns. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever. I miss you,” he adds a little quietly.

It makes you smile in earnest this time. “So you’re here to be a good friend, then.”

“Yeah,” Minho says, and you might be kidding yourself but you swear he sounds almost disappointed, “A good friend. That’s me.”

You tap him gently on the arm to get him to move from the door. “How about I promise to find you straight after my shift ends, and you agree to leave without using any more of my medical supplies? Jeff’s going to kill you if we run through anymore bandages, I swear it.”

Minho pretends to think this over. “Straight after? You promise?”

“I promise,” you repeat. “So? Do we have a deal?”

“We do,” he intones solemnly, and at last lets you open the door and usher him out, but only after extracting one more promise that you won’t delay to talk to Newt or anyone else once Jeff lets you out.

When you get back to the storage room, you find Jeff waiting for you, grinning knowingly from ear to ear. It bothers you for some reason, not the fact that he’s on this topic again but worse, the thought that he might not be entirely wrong for it.

“Wipe that look off your face,” you mutter.

Jeff’s grin just broadens. “How was your star patient?”

“Fantastic,” you assure him, “And I’d be fantastic too, if you could stop bothering me with whatever weird thing you’re thinking about right now.”

Jeff shrugs exaggeratedly. “Of course. I don’t know why anyone would think about Minho being unable to go three days without talking to you. That would be crazy.”

“It would be,” you add darkly. People in the Glade have said that you have a tendency for killer death stares. However, Jeff seems to be impervious to it, because he just keeps sitting there, proud as anything, as if he were in the right about this.

As if. This isn’t the first time your friends have tried to suggest there’s something going on between you and Minho, and the honest truth is that nothing has happened at all. Yeah, Minho’s your best friend, and yeah, your days are significantly better when you see as much of him as possible. What about it? It doesn’t mean a thing. Life is hard. If you want to talk to the boy who makes you laugh like no one else, you should be able to do it in peace.

You can’t deny that the rumors stay on your mind, and recently, you haven’t been able to deny them with as much conviction as usual. You’re not blind, Minho is good-looking, and maybe you start thinking about something past friendship when he makes another excuse to get in your personal space when you’re sitting together by the fire or walking through the Glade.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before, but as good as it might be to have Minho in every way that matters, you’ll still be perfectly happy with just the one. You can’t risk your friendship, even if, two drinks of Gally’s brew into a Bonfire Night, you start thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, or worse still, when Minho drops by the Med-Jack hut again, you convince yourself that maybe he’s not just doing it because he’s a good friend but because he wants you just like you want him.

It can’t be, though. For one thing, Minho is notoriously confident. If he liked you, he would have told you by now. You’ve seen him argue with Gally for the fun of it, not to mention the fact that he chose to be a Runner of all things. Minho lives on a constant adrenaline rush. Compared to what he does on a daily basis, confessing his feelings has to be nothing major. If he wanted to tell you, he would, and he hasn’t, so obviously there isn’t anything to tell at all.

For another, and this might just be in your own head, but Minho is so brave and capable that he seems to eclipse everything around him. Maybe it’s just the force of your own perspective, but you swear the entire Glade orbits around him. When he gets back from a run, he’s immediately swarmed by Gladers asking him about how it was, if he saw anything important. He’s always the first person people talk to, the immediate choice for a dinnertime companion. Minho could have anything he wanted in the Glade. So why would he want you?

You’ve managed to force the whole thing from your mind as best you can. Minho is your friend. At least you can have him like that, even if it kills you sometimes to look at him and imagine all the ways you would love him if he would just give you the chance. Any good medic can keep their feelings internal when they need it, and you’re the best there is.

You meet Minho later that night as promised, and you do your utmost to pretend everything is normal. You stay with him until the sun sinks below the horizon, until the Doors slam shut, until the moon begins its familiar path across the sky. You talk the whole while, idle chatter that occasionally drifts off into comfortable quiet. You’ve never been able to do that with anyone before, feel so at ease that you can stay silent for minutes at a time and have it not be awkward, but with Minho, it’s so simple. Then again, you can hardly remember anyone at all. Maybe there was someone in the past who mattered to you just as much as Minho does now. Even without your memories, though, that feels impossible. Minho could have no substitute, not to you.

You’re expecting the next day to pass in a breeze of idle hours, but around midafternoon, your dreary day of organization and the occasional bad paper cut is harshly interrupted by the sound of chaos outside. There’s shouting for a Med-Jack, and then several people are rushing someone in. It’s a Runner, apparently, you hear the details as you run for supplies. The Maze started moving during the day and he got hurt.

You can tell from the way people start nervously looking at you that it’s bad. At first, they don’t say any names, but then you burst into the chamber that serves as your operating room and you know that it’s worse than you could have possibly imagined, for not only does it seem like there’s enough blood to drench the Glade, but the victim isn’t Ben or one of the other Runners, it’s Minho. Your Minho. Your Minho, bleeding out on your table, who will need you to save him.

You stand there for one fragile moment, drenched in horror, then spring into action. Clint and Jeff have surfaced by now, and you direct them to anesthetize Minho. You want him to feel as little of this as possible. After carefully cutting open his shirt to determine the source of all that awful blood, you determine that it’s not as bad as you thought, more of a broad surface wound than a deep puncture. That much blood loss is dangerous, though, and he’ll need several stitches to close the flesh.

About an hour and a half later, you’re done. You and the other Med-Jacks lean back, panting heavily. Your hands and clothes are smeared with red, but color has crept back into Minho’s cheeks, and he’s starting to breathe evenly again.

“How long until he wakes up?” You ask Clint.

He checks a nearby clock, then Minho’s pulse. “Fifteen minutes, probably, but he won’t be fully conscious for up to an hour.”

You nod. “That’s good. Clear out, you guys. Get some rest.”

Jeff stops by you on the way out. “You can stay with him if you want. He’d be glad to see you when he wakes up.”

You let out a slow breath. “Thanks, Jeff.”

He pats you on the back then leaves to wash up. You spare the time to scrub your hands and get on a fresh change of clothes, but head back to Minho as soon as you can. Ben was with him when the accident happened, he said that everything happened so fast he hardly knew what went down. You don’t want Minho to wake up alone and confused, covered in bandages and unable to shake the scent of blood.

Once the immediate danger is over, you’re left sitting in a chair by Minho’s cot. His chest is swathed in bandages, but no red has flowered through them yet, which is a good sign. As you watch, the fingers on his right hand start to twitch. Clint said he would start to stir around now, and you’re glad to see the signs of movement. Watching him there– so still, so motionless– it made you wonder if he would wake up. It made you wonder if there was any way you could survive if he didn’t.

Minho is starting to make small sounds of distress under his breath, so you lean over and take his hand, squeezing it carefully but comfortingly. “Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re safe.”

You hear the ghost of your name in his whisper, and then Minho starts to quiet down again, restless rustles turning back into quiet breathing. You check his heart rate with your free hand and are glad to see it returning to normal, shaking off the lethargy of the anesthesia.

Minho sleeps for a little longer. Afraid to upset him, you keep your hand in his. You can tell when he wakes again, because his fingers start to press against yours. Consciousness comes upon him like a wave beating upon the shore. All of a sudden, his eyes are blinking open, and then he’s trying to sit up too fast and is forced back down to the cot by a bout of dizziness.

“Easy,” you tell him, pressing him back. “Don’t try to sit yet. The meds aren’t out of your system.”

“Y/N?” Minho asks, voice hoarse.

Hearing the scratchiness of his voice, so totally removed from the usual confident cadence of his words, makes your throat close up. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Hey, Doc,” he says roughly. “Jeff won’t give me klunk about the bandages now, will he?”

“No, he won’t,” you say, torn between laughter and outright sobs. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

“All good,” Minho tells you. “What about Ben? Is he okay?”

“Ben is fine,” you assure him. “You’re the one we’re worried about, Minho. I knew the Maze was dangerous, but like this–”

He cuts you off, squeezing your hand. “Hey, all in a day’s work. I knew the risks when I went in.”

You shake your head, hot tears starting to well up in your eyes. “No, no. This isn’t fair. You’re not supposed to get hurt during the day. Minho, I didn’t even know anything happened, and then they brought you in, and there was so much blood– I thought I was going to lose you, and I didn’t even get to tell you–”

Even in the midst of your tears, you have the presence of mind to stop yourself before you give yourself away. It’s just– the thought had not abandoned you the whole time he slept, even the whole time you operated, that you could lose him without ever having him at all.

Minho shakes his head as best he can. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t,” you whisper. “What if Ben hadn’t been able to get you back in time?”

You take a ragged breath, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. Your shoulders shake, and Minho leans up slightly, as if drawn to it. To you.

“You’re pretty even when you cry,” Minho says, one hand weakly rising up to brush a tear from your cheek. “How is that fair?”

You laugh haltingly, in between the tears. “Barely awake five minutes, and you’re already flirting.”

He grins. “It’s all I want to do.”

If this were any other day, you would be able to brush off that comment, but something about this moment, this space– no one else in the room, Minho’s palm still tenderly cradling your cheek, your heart still erratic from the stress– you can’t help but turn the words over and over in your mind. All I want to do. All I want to do.

“Minho–” You start.

“Shh,” he says. “You already know that. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen through it. My smart girl. All those times I came to see you. Don’t say you haven’t realized.”

“Minho–”

“Newt says I’m being stupid. That I shouldn’t keep trying to have something that isn’t mine. But I’ll tell you something, Y/N, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy. I want you, and I don’t want to think about you with anyone else but me.”

Your breath is harsh in your chest, heart beating so loud you’re certain they must hear it echoing all across the Glade.

Minho’s eyes are fixed directly on yours. He sits up carefully, enough to reach his other hand up past your waist to the small of your back. “Tell me you don’t want me, or I’m not going to stop trying to keep you. Tell me to stop.”

Your lips part as you try to form an answer. Minho’s eyes dart down to the movement, and they only rise to your gaze with great reluctance. “I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him at last. “I want you, Minho. Only you.”

Two years now, you’ve known Minho. You’ve seen him proud and defiant, laughing and joyous and as happy as anyone could hope to be. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile as brightly as he does right now, right before he kisses you.

Every touch is electric, and this is the most powerful of all. Your mind is reeling from the moment your lips meet, sending you far beyond the reaches of the Maze to the sky itself. You could be floating forever if you wanted, and you only start to gradually come back to earth when he slowly breaks away.

“Minho,” you say, hesitating over every syllable.

“Y/N,” he mimics, lips turned up in an irrepressible smile.

“They’re going to want to know that you’re awake. I promised I’d get the others,” you tell him.

He considers this for a moment. “They don’t need to know immediately, do they?”

You smile. “No.”

Minho’s eyes glint. “Then kiss me again. You can tell them after.”

It seems like a fair deal to you. You kiss him to make sure of it.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss,

@hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list:

@wordsarelife

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k0mmari · 1 month ago

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Okay people, I need to talk about IDOL!Shen Yuan AU before I explode (aka slight Aggretsuko inspired office au…..)

I’ll try to make this short for once jdvfhbjdhbvdf, but basically SY has been (forcefully) made to work for his brother(SJ) in the family company, after SJ decided enough was enough, and SY was going to do something with his life besides rotting away in his bed whether he liked it or not. The thing is, he wasn’t (just) rotting in bed reading atrocious novels, but he also took some time to experiment with music as a hobby, and over time, he grew a small following.

Though, after he was dragged to work at SJ’s side, the ever boring of dealing with paperwork and staring at white walls was eating at him. It’s not like he struggled doing his job, in fact, he was quite good at it, but he wasted no effort to make it very clear that he did not like that he was there in the first place. So, in an act of rebellion and to just do SOMETHING other than feel every passing second of the day in a cubicle, he decided to work even harder in his music hobby. It eventually led to SJ finding out and sparing no words to say that SY needed to focus on his real job, which only made SY brat out even harder, even managing to find an alternative music club and booking a few performances.

It went great! More people showed up than he expected, and all went great, but since his health was still not the best, after that he basically spent a whole month crashed out, not being able to do any more performances and barely able to go to the office once a week.

Anyways, it all led to SY thinking he had proved SJ right that he couldn’t continue this life style, and even thinking about quitting it, but one day while he was scrolling on the comments on one of his MVs (aka a Fancy Lyric Video), one of the comments mentioned that SY was one of the most important influences for that person, and that it inspired them to start pursuing music. It was the first time he had received a comment of that nature, and it lit the fire of his motivation back up.

Some 2 years passed, SJ still kept SY at the office, but SY had reached a nice balance on his online music work and performances on that club, and as his popularity grew, his performances at that one club had almost turned into a whole event for his most dedicated fans. So, enter Luo Binghe:

He was that comment that SY had read, and he did want to try music after being a fan of SY’s for almost three years now, but due to his financial situation he desperately needed some other source of income first. Now, at his last year of college, he managed to get an internship onto the Shen family’s company, which was a huge step forward towards his dreams, unfortunately he just had to go under SJ, which as we all know, was never kind to Binghe, instead acting as if the boy should just give up the internship entirely. And Binghe did think about it, but it seemed as if the stars had aligned for Binghe at least once, and SJ, after getting a sudden influx of work, delegated Binghe to SY.

They got on quite well, and Binghe even grew to have a little crush on SY, but it was all going fine and great until one fateful day. The office was as boring as ever, and after SY let Binghe know they wouldn’t have to entertain any clients for the day, Binghe decided to work on his part while listening to some music of his favorite artist.

Binghe has an awful habit of listening to music worryingly loud, so when SY went to get him to explain his new task, he ended up listening to what Binghe was hearing: his own music, in fact, his newest song. He pondered telling Binghe about the coincidence, but decided that maybe would be overstepping some professional boundary, and instead told Binghe about his one music club SY had heard about…

Binghe, excited to get to know more places around the area (and maybe understanding what SY did in his free time), decided to go to the club the next week after work, and did not even think about checking who would be performing in the day he would visit. Imagine his surprise when he gets to the door of the music club and hears some awfully famíliar music, and after rushing to be as close to the stage as possible, besides being blinded by his favorite artist’s greatness, also noticed that, hey, the artist looked an awful lot like a certain coworker of his….

Anyways, shenanigans ensue, Binghe starts his own investigation on SY possibly being the artist, SY juggling his office life, music career, and SJ perhaps coming to accept his brother’s career, and even maybe revealing a bit about his own past with music performances.

That’s all I had for today, just wanted to release this into the world! If anyone wants to expand on this, or try their on take on it, feel more than free to! Here are some more doodles of the usual day at the office :)

#had to stop myself from yapping away #the aggretsuko inspiration comes more in the way I think sy could go all out on the metal screams lol #binghe is probably gonna become an idol later #svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #bingyuan #drabble #long post #digital art #doodles

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qqueenofhades · 4 months ago

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"Radiant" is a perfect word to describe her. Gosh she's just fantastic.

I just.... am still FULLY in shock. At the start of July we were deep in the sordid depths of BidenDebateGate and the media feeding frenzy was fully underway and things looked bad. In the middle of July we had the Trump assassination attempt and the RNC and backstabbing Democrat stories every two minutes and things looked very, VERY bad. My mental health that week was a mess. I was terrified and could barely function and was seriously contemplating having to plan for the worst-case scenario.

And then. July 21. Biden drops out. 24 hours of terror, anger, and confusion, and then? AND THEN???

At the start of August (after the 6543 weeks of July) we were riding insanely high with the Kamalamentum, on August 6 she picked Walz and immediately launched a gangbusters battleground-state tour, here we are after a basically flawless convention that ran as if she was intended to be the nominee all along, and I just... wow. Thank absolute fuck that Biden decided not to listen to all the people who wanted the nightmare of an "open convention mini primary" and immediately endorsed Kamala. Thank fuck that everyone came in line right away. Thank fuck she picked Walz and the whole rollout has been beyond incredible. AND NOW???

After the soul-crushing trauma of 2016 and what looked like another generation of old white male Democratic presidential candidates before they would ever dare to try again, we have a brilliant and experienced woman of color as our presidential nominee. We could experience the absolute god tier karma of said woman of color both making incredible history and ending Donald Trump's entire career all at once. We just witnessed the four-day convention that was riveting and unmissable television. We are raising absolutely stupid insane amounts of money and volunteers and effort and... I just don't understand how this can happen in the Bad Timeline we have been living in, except to hope that if it is, we have somehow finally left it, or can leave it. God. Wouldn't that be nice.

People keep saying that we can't get complacent and we still have to vote, because we are all as noted still traumatized from 2016, but... quite honestly, I don't think that's the issue this time. People are raring at the fucking BIT to vote, in a way that I, who have spent 10+ largely bitter and thankless years on here telling people to vote, can't entirely believe. People want to do this. The younger among you have asked if this is what Obama felt like in 2008, and: Yes, but this is even more unbelievable. At least we could see him coming and had some context for it and watched him gain steam through the primaries, etc. But there was still considerable rancor and uncertainty around whether THIS GUY was going to be the nominee, and plenty of Democrats were pretty skeptical. They warmed up a bit as it went on, but things were still fairly neck and neck with McCain until the great economic crash. After that, Obama began to pull away and finally won in a crushing landslide.

By contrast, 2024 with Kamala is now the most united and excited I have seen the Democrats, EVER, and I have been voting for Democrats and paying attention to politics for almost 20 years. It's literally indescribable. Wow. That is all I can say. Wow, and of course, LET US FUCKING DO THIS. LET'S FUCKING GO. MADAM PRESIDENT. IT'S TIME.

#mad-madam-m #ask #dnc 2024 #harris walz 2024

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loudstan · 7 months ago

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(67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was (PART 2.)

Summary: Chenle wasn't interested in committed relationships until he met the one. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to commit to him.

Pairing: Werewolf! Chenle x Siren! Female reader

Warnings: OOff where do I start. Things get dubious, and even a bit non-conish sometimes so do not read if that's not something you're into. A lot of mind games, manipulation, gaslighting, and all the red flags you can think of. Y/N is MEAN. Also, this is super long so i had to make two separate posts. Read both if you want to know how it started! SMUT.

(PART 2)

“Why’s Jisung crying?” Kun asked when he saw the youngest member of the pack trying to hide how glossy his eyes were a few days later.

“I’m not,” Jisung replied stubbornly, but the words came out broken.

“He watched (500) Days of Summer,” Renjun deadpanned.

“You watched–,” Kun burst out laughing. “It’s a romantic comedy! How did you end up crying?”

“It’s not romantic, nor funny,” Jisung disagreed.

Renjun sighed. “He’s worried about Chenle.”

“Oh…” Kun frowned. “Is he still hiding in his room?”

Renjun and Jisung nodded.

Kun sighed and hesitantly walked to Chenle’s room, knocking on the door and letting himself in when he heard a monotonous ‘come in’ from the other side.

“Hey, Lele…,” he greeted awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

Chenle was sprawling in bed, with dark circles under a pair of eyes stuck to the laptop screen.

“Hm,” he replied, without elaborating.

“What are you up to?” Kun asked casually, walking closer to take a look at the screen. “Oh…You’re watching that movie too…”

Chenle barely nodded. “I’ve watched it 6 times. Each time it becomes more obvious that they would never end up together. Funny, isn’t it?” his dull voice said.

“Lele, I’m so sorry,” Kun said sincerely. Not only for what happened to the younger werewolf, but also for even mentioning that stupid movie.

“It was gonna happen sooner or later,” Chenle closed his laptop and finally looked at the oldest. “She didn’t want me. Not the way I want her, at least.”

Kun looked at him sadly.

“Maybe I could make my own movie,” Chenle joked unenthusiastically. “The title would be (67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the older offered.

“Sure, you could convince her to take me back,” Chenle chuckled humorlessly. “Forget it, gege. There’s nothing anyone could do,” he said, before putting his laptop away and pulling the covers all the way up until they covered his head. “Can you close the door when you leave, please?”

“I…sure,” Kun murmured, walking out and closing the door quietly. He stood in the corridor for an entire minute as he considered his options. “Fuck it,” he murmured, for once not caring about his manners.

He went back to the living room where Jisung and Renjun were waiting expectantly. “Get up, you two,” Kun told them. “We’re going to the bar.”

“Yeosang, I’m fine,” you insisted after he begged you to go rest for the 5th time.

“ You haven’t seen your mate in a week, and you know that can affect your health. You shouldn’t abuse your body.”

“It’s almost time to close. There are like 5 people here. It can’t be that hard, ” you laughed.

“I can handle it for the last half of an hour,” he offered. “You haven’t been looking too good lately–”

“It’s getting better,” you lied before turning to the customer to take his order. “Hi! What can I get you?”

“Three glasses of Eternal Dusk, please,” a handsome man with a charming smile said, handing you his credit card.

“Right away,” you replied with a smile, scanning the card and handing it back to him before preparing the drinks skillfully and handing them to him.

He thanked you and took the drinks to the table where his friends were waiting for him. You thought you recognized one of them, but he quickly looked away, suddenly being very interested in the wall behind him. Over the course of the night, they kept stealing glances at you, quickly looking away and talking secretly in their tiny group. Eventually, the same guy who had ordered the drinks earlier approached the bar again.

“Another round?” you offered.

“Uh, actually–” he stopped mid-sentence with a wince and hesitantly grabbed a pendant that was hanging from a chain, tucked under his shirt. He inspected the relic suspiciously like it wasn’t his own.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

He looked at you and then back at the pendant, which he quickly hid back under his shirt. “Y-yeah sorry,” he smiled politely. “I was wondering–... you’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I–uh, I’m from the Scarlet Islands,” you disclosed. “Why?”

“Figures. Your beauty is…definitely not something you see in this town,” he said cheekily, looking at you like he had found out your biggest secret.

“Are you going to order something or not?” Yeosang interrupted the conversation, standing in between you and the customer.

The man smiled at Yeosang before shaking his head and waving goodbye. “I think we’re done for tonight,” he said, going to his table and hurrying his friends out of the bar.

“What a creep,” Yeosang said.

“Y-yeah,” you chuckled nervously and started cleaning up now that the last customers were gone.

“Heeey, Sangie,” Wooyoung greeted cheerfully approaching the bar. “Can I steal Y/N away for a little bit?”

Yeosang glared at Wooyoung suspiciously.

“It won’t be anything stupid, I promise,” Wooyung said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“I’ll be okay, Sangie,” you chuckled, walking away with Wooyoung when Yeosang finally nodded hesitantly.

Wooyoung guided you out of the ship, to the dock that connected it to land. It was late at night and the place was deserted. The only sound you could hear was the water splashing the wooden ship and the distant voices of the crew members coming from inside the ship.

When you looked at Wooyoung you were surprised to see him taking his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” you asked, astonished.

“I’m getting undressed,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

“I can see that. Why?”

“We’re going swimming!” he exclaimed, stepping out of his pants to present himself in front of you in his underwear. “Why are you just standing there? Do you need me to take your clothes off for you?” he asked suggestively.

“Woo, it’s late…” you tried to reason.

“I’ll push you. Don’t test me.”

You saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, I guess it won’t hurt to swim a little bit,” you said, undressing yourself until you were only wearing your bra and panties. The crew had seen you in a swimming suit before, so this was basically the same. And it was dark, so you weren’t worried about him seeing through the fabric once it got wet

You followed Wooyoung into the water and sighed at the feeling surrounding you.

“Feel good?” Wooyoung asked, apprehensively.

“Really good,” you admitted, surprised. Your body had felt heavy and ached for the last few days, but you were suddenly feeling so relieved.

“Seawater restores sirens’ vitality,” Wooyoung commented, very proud of himself. “I read about it.”

“Aaw, were you worried about me?” you teased.

He splashed water on your face as a response. You gasped and splashed him back, starting a childish battle that ended with him holding you tightly against his own body to prevent your attacks.

You were laughing brightly when you felt the soft presence of his lips on yours. It barely lasted a second, but it made all laughter stop.

Your confused eyes met Wooyoung’s untamed ones. He wasn’t laughing, nor did he seem embarrassed or regretful.

“Did that feel good too?” he asked. His voice was thick with implication.

You stared back at him, speechless.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a love confession,” he said, gently pushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “This is just me saying that I know you’re going through a hard time, and that your body isn’t taking it well. You’re tired, in pain, and so sensitive…” he trailed off.

You blushed. “Woo–”

“I know it’s someone else that you want,” he continued. “But I can help you forget, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“You don’t have to–”

“You think I get nothing out of it? You may not know this but I have a thing for sirens. I dated one, actually…but things didn’t end up well. I recently found out through Yeosang that she met someone knew,” he chuckled but his laugh sounded empty, hurt. “I should be happy for her. But I can’t bring myself to. Childish, huh?”

“It was you?!” you asked, astonished. “The friend Yeosang told me about–”

“She’s my ex,” Wooyoung confessed. “Well…if you could call that a relationship. We barely held hands or kissed. She was afraid if we…consummated, she would follow me wherever I went. That was smart of her; following a pirate around isn’t anyone’s dream life.”

“Woo…I’m so sorry,” you whispered sympathetically.

“You’re in no position to be sorry about someone else’s love life,” he laughed, earning a playful punch on the shoulder. “What I’m trying to say here is that none of us is with who we want to be, but we have each other…”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you hesitated.

“Isn’t it tiring to have to pleasure yourself?” he taunted, caressing your waist with intent and making you shiver, suddenly very aware of the proximity and nakedness of you both. “You can’t let the man you love make you cum, and I couldn’t make the woman I loved cum…” he murmured, moving his hands skillfully to give you goosebumps. “Wouldn’t it be poetic if we cum together?”

“The mental gymnastics to get to that conclusion are out of this world,” you joked.

“Y/N,” he groaned. “We’re both lonely and horny, and we’re stuck in a lifestyle that won’t let us have a stable relationship with anyone outside this damn ship. Is it really that crazy to propose we help each other out?”

You considered it for a second. He was making sense; you couldn’t be with Chenle if you wanted to continue your current lifestyle…but Wooyoung would always be there.

“Captain said no relationships within crew members,” you murmured, holding onto the last argument against this reckless idea.

“Captain doesn’t need to know,” he assured you, closing the distance between your lips and kissing you. You kissed him back, focusing on Wooyoung and trying to forget all about Chenle. Without knowing that you would see him sooner than expected.

“CHENLE!” Kun yelled, bursting into the depressed wolf’s room and yanking the covers away from his limp body. “YOU STUPID BOY!”

After getting over the initial shock, Chenle gave him an unamused glare. “We already established that. No need to yell,” he murmured, reaching for the cover again.

Kun took the cover from his hand and threw it on the floor. He then unclasped from around his neck a golden chain with a doubloon hanging from it and waved it in front of Chenle’s face. “Do you know what this is?”

“No,” deadpanned Chenle.

“It’s a siren detector,” he replied proudly.

“Why do you even have one of those?” Chenle asked, still uninterested.

“I got it from my time in the navy, of course. All sailors get one for safety.”

“Pff, you were not in the navy,” Chenle scoffed.

“Yes, I was? I sent you postcards?” Kun reminded him offendedly. “Whatever, that’s not the point. The point is we went to the bar where your mate works—“

“You did WHAT?!” Chenle asked outrageously.

“We were going to convince her to take you back,” Kun continued.

“Nooo,” Chenle groaned, mortified. “How did you even know which bar it was?”

“Jisung led the way,” Kun informed.

Chenle glared at Jisung who was standing awkwardly next to Renjun.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbled. “Didn’t want you to be sad…”

Chenle sighed. “You should have asked me— did you steal that glass?”

Jisung looked at the glass he was holding, still half full of alcohol. “We left in a hurry and I kinda panicked.”

“As I was saying,” Kun demanded everyone’s attention. “Whenever I got near your mate the detector started burning my skin. I asked her where she was from and she named an island that is located in the Forbidden Sea, which is where you can find the biggest population of merpeople.”

Chenle stared at him dumbly.

“You imprinted on a siren!” Kun exclaimed exasperatedly. “Well, probably a half-siren…she seems to be able to spend long periods of time on land.”

“…That’s ridiculous. I would have noticed if my mate had a fishtail.”

“I guess they don’t teach you guys anatomy in school anymore,” Kun said. “That’s a myth. Sirens look like any other human. Some historical jerk assumed they had tails because the lower part of their bodies often remained hidden under the water. They have legs just like us, and they sometimes come to land, but they need sea water to survive. My guess is Y/N gets easy access to the water by traveling with pirates.”

“But… it can’t be…”

“It makes perfect sense,” Renjun interjected. “Sirens are famous for their mind control. Think about it: isn’t it weird that you always agreed to everything she said?”

Again, Chenle glared at Jisung, who must have spilled the beans about that too.

“I don’t know, man,” he sighed tiredly. “Maybe I’m just a simp.”

“No but—“ Jisung spoke nervously. “That night when you met her you were so out of it. All you kept saying was that you didn’t want to mark her. Isn’t that weird?”

Chenke knitted his brows. It was kind of weird. “Maybe it was the fever.”

“Just try to remember,” Renjun insisted. “Did you ever have any disagreement that ended with you saying something out of character? Something that you didn’t understand why you were saying?”

Chenle froze. Every encounter with you had ended like that. Suddenly it all made sense.

Holy fuck. He had been played.

He groaned and pulled his hair. “So Y/N is a master manipulator. Why does it matter? She doesn’t want to see me.”

”That’s the weird part,” Kun says hurriedly. “I heard her speaking with the other bartender, saying something about not seeing her mate for a week. Your relationship,” he said that word making air quotes with his hands, “ended a week ago. So that has to be referring to you, right? That means she imprinted on you too. But if that’s really the case then she wouldn’t be able to stand being away from you after you guys slept together,” he ranted nonsensically.

Chenle wasn’t really following. He was still trying to process that he imprinted on a siren, and now Kun was saying that you probably imprinted on him too. He didn’t even know sirens imprinted.

“Maybe sexual relationships aren’t that important for her,” Renjun said, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Sex is a sacred ritual between siren mates,” Kun contradicted Renjun’s theory. “When a siren is brought to their climax by the one they imprinted on it’s game over. The bond is sealed for eternity. Seriously, guys, what are they teaching you in school?”

“Not how to mate with sirens, clearly,” Renjun replied sarcastically, making Jisung choke on his drink.

“Orgasms seal the bond…” Chenle mumbled, sitting up as he pieced together everything he heard. “Game over…”

“Exactly,” Kun said, excited that at least one of them was paying attention and learning from him. “But then she probably wasn’t talking about you when she mentioned a mate because she shouldn’t be able to live without you after two months of–”

“I didn’t make her cum,” Chenle admitted.

The room was silent.

“You mean– last time you were together?” Renjun offered.

“Ever,” Chenle deadpanned.

Jisung gasped. “You never told me that!” he accused.

“Yeah, thank god, or you would have told everyone!” Chenle rolled his eyes.

“I get nervous when interrogated!” Jisung defended himself.

“Chenle!” Kun shrieked. “Are you saying that in two months of being fuckbuddies,” he stressed, “ you didn’t make her cum once?!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Chenle replied.

“Right,” Renjun said sarcastically.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve to touch her!” Chenle huffed, incredulous at what he was learning. “Whenever she was about to cum she would stop me with that sickeningly sweet voice of hers–”

“The siren voice,” Kun nodded, starting to understand what was happening.

“And I would always end up doing as she said and–I don’t know I thought it was like a weird kink of hers, or that I really was that bad in bed,” Chenle groaned.

“She was stopping you from consummating the bond,” Renjun breathed out, catching up.

“Wait what?” Jisung asked.

“She imprinted on Chenle and she knew if he made her orgasm she would be bonding with him forever,” Kun explained. “She literally hypnotized him to make sure he never made her cum.”

“That’s a whole new level of commitment issues…” Jisung said incredulously. “And gaslighting,” he added, not believing that someone would go that far.

But Chenle didn’t doubt you would do all that and more to get what you wanted. You were literally insane.

“Fucking bitch,” he grunted, getting out of bed and exiting the room.

“Where are you going?” Jisung asked.

“Where do you think?!” Chenle yelled back.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Renjun warned, running after him, followed by Jisung and Kun.

“You either wait here or you come with, but you’re not stopping me,” Chenle grunted, opening the front door and walking out of the house in his pajamas.

The three werewolves exchanged worried looks before following Chenle to his car. Kun ended up driving because Chenle’s hands were shaking with rage, and the car was barely parked near the port when Chenle sprinted toward the imposing ship.

The bar was closed, and everyone was probably asleep, but Chenle didn’t give a damn. He was going to wake up the entire town if he had to.

But he didn’t have to, because he heard you.

It was distant and weak. You were giggling and whimpering, and at some point, he even thought he heard his name. But where–?

He almost tripped when he stepped on…pants? And there were other pieces of clothing too– Was that your top?!

“You okay?” asked an unfamiliar male voice.

“F-fine,” you croaked.

“That good, huh?” the stranger asked.

“Shut up,” you replied playfully.

The voices were getting closer and Chenle’s enhanced vision could see you swimming toward the dock…with a man.

“It must have been good,” the man insisted. “You were so out of it that you called me a totally different name.”

“Woo,” you whined, ashamed. “I’m sorry–”

He pecked your lips. “It’s fine,” he assured you with a smile, reaching for the wooden surface. “You’ll get it right next time–,” his sentence was interrupted when out of nowhere someone grabbed him and pulled him out of the water aggressively.

Your eyes widened in fear when you saw Chenle, manhandling Wooyoung with murderous intent. The pirate landed on his back on the dock with a loud thud and winced, but that was only the beginning of the pain Chenle had planned for him.

“C-chenle!” you shrieked, getting out of the water. “Chenle, stop!”

“I’ll deal with you later,” he growled at you, getting back to beating the shit out of the man who had dared to kiss you.

Desperately, you yelled at him to stop, tried to pull him away from Wooyoung, and finally screamed for help, hoping at least one of your crew members would hear you.

Luckily, Yunho came running out of the ship, closely followed by Mingi, who looked half-asleep. They quickly assessed the situation and charged in to separate the two men. San and Yeosang joined the scene right after, helping Wooyoung get up and trying to get him away from the threat.

“I’ll teach you not to touch what isn’t yours,” Chenle growled, breaking free from Yunho and Mingi’s grasp, but thankfully Kun, Renjun and a terrified Jisung stepped in, not letting him reach the poor man.

“Leave right now or I’ll call the police,” Seongwha spoke authoritatively, standing between his crew and the werewolves.

“Call the police then!” Chenle challenged petulantly. “See if I care. One of my pack is fucking a police officer so they can’t do shit to us–” he suddenly fell on the floor completely unconscious. Behind him, there was Jongho.

“I hit a pressure point so he’ll be asleep for a bit,” Jongho explained calmly. “Not for long though, so you should get him out of here fast.”

The three werewolves nodded quickly, and mumbled a thousand apologies while they grabbed his unconscious pack member and dragged him away.

Seungwha quickly instructed the crew to take Wooyoung inside and tend to his wounds before turning to you. “Y/N, Captain wants to see you.”

The crew turned to look at you, failing to mask the fear in their eyes. They knew that if the Captain asked you to go to his cabin, it meant you were in huge trouble.

You lowered your head and nodded obediently, grabbing your clothes and boarding the ship. You quickly dried your body and put on some clothes before walking to the Captain’s cabin with trembling legs.

“Come in,” he said before you could even knock.

The antique door opened with a quiet squeak.

Captain Hongjoong was standing by a small window while playfully tossing his spyglass from one hand to the other.

“Did you ask to see me?” you asked nervously.

“I did,” he hummed calmly. “Had fun with Wooyoung?”

Your blood ran cold. There was no way he could have found out this fast, could he?

He chuckled. “Come here, Y/N.”

You took hesitant steps toward him until you were face to face.

“Look outside” he instructed,positioning so you were looking out the window. “What do you see?”

You saw the dock where the fight had happened and if you moved a bit to the right you could see the exact spot where you and Wooyoung had been fooling around. Could he have seen–?

“Saw it all,” he purred next to your ear, answering your unvoiced question. “Can’t say I’m surprised. If someone was going to break that rule it was Wooyoung.”

“It wasn’t his fault–”

“Please,” Hongjoong laughed, sitting on a chair made out of a barrel. “You want me to believe that Wooyoung wasn’t the one who started this? I know my crew,” he said, gesturing at the chair in front of him for you to take a seat too.

“He was only trying to help,” you explained, sitting down.

“Yeah, because you broke up with rich boy, right? Maybe if you hadn’t used your siren voice on him things wouldn’t have ended like that.”

You gasped in surprise. He knew about that?!

He gasped too, mocking you. “Told you, Y/N. I know my crew,” he informed you, changing his tone to a more serious one. “Relationships within the crew are a rule that could be bent if necessary… but I strictly forbade you from bewitching people.”

��I–I know…”

“Wooyoung and you hooked up, alright, no problem. You’re both adults. But what you did to that man,” he said pointing at the window, “was take away his autonomy for your benefit.”

You nodded slowly, ashamed.

“I’ve been waiting to see if you would solve things on your own, but now one of my men is hurt. You did that,” he accused.

You winced. “I understand. I’ll pack my things,” you said.

Hongjoong frowned.“Why would you do that?”

“I broke the rules and I put the crew in danger. So I gotta leave, right?”

“That would be the easy way out,” he said sternly. “You can’t abandon people whenever you fail them.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“Not to me. To Chenle Zhong.”

Wow. He even knew his full name.

“I ended things with him,” you explained.

“But did you apologize?”

“He’ll move on and find someone better.”

“Did.you.apologize?”

You sighed in defeat. “...No.”

“Do it,” he commanded. “In person.”

You nodded right when someone knocked on the door softly.

“Come in,” Hongjoong said.

Seongwha walked in. “Wooyoung will be fine. Only a few bruises, but no broken bones.”

“Good,” Hongjoong sighed. “Tell him he’s grounded.”

“Of course,” Seongwha said, but shot you a worried look. “What about Y/N?”

“She has her own task to complete, isn’t that right?” he said, looking at you solemnly.

And that’s how you found yourself unblocking Chenle and texting him, asking him if you could meet. The message showed as read for hours until he finally replied setting a time and date.

He picked you up like he often did in the past, before shit hit the fan. At first you refused to get in the car.

“I’ll be quick,” you said.

“I won’t,” he countered angrily. “I have a lot to say, and you’re gonna listen. Get in.”

His voice left no room for disobedience, so you nervously got in the car. This time he drove in a totally different direction.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He didn’t reply. He remained silent even when the car stopped in front of a huge modern building, taking you into the elevator and, once again, pressing the button to go to the highest floor.

You were in awe when you entered a place as luxurious as the presidential suite, but more homelike. It was a spacious penthouse, with minimum decoration, like it had been recently purchased, with enormous windows that allowed you to see the ocean.

“I’m listening,” Chenle said dryly, standing in front of the window and watching the striking view.

You stood behind him, taking a deep breath in to brace yourself. “There’s something you must know,” you started saying.

He kept his eyes on the view, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m part siren. Sirens can control people’s minds with their voices…and I did that to you.”

He clenched his jaw but remained silent,

“Everytime you came too close I made you believe that you didn’t actually want that. I treated you like shit to keep you under control, but the truth was that I was afraid of what would happen if we went further. I’m sorry,” you finally said.

He turned around, glaring at you. “You’re sorry? Do you think you can use and humiliate someone repeatedly and then just say you’re sorry?”

You shook your head. “I know what I did was awful. That’s why I ended things; so you can forget about me and move on.”

“That’s your way of fixing things?” He laughed humorlessly. “Imagine someone broke your leg and then they put a fucking sticker on it, telling you to forget about it. Can you go run a marathon?”

“...That’s not the same–”

“That’s what it felt like to me,” he insisted. “You broke me every time you told me I didn’t deserve you. Everytime you made me say what we had wasn’t special. You don’t get to step on me like that and then tell me to move on.”

“I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“No. You’re doing what’s easier.”

“Chenle I–,” you sighed. “I’m leaving in three days. There’s nothing I can do for you at this point.”

He met your gaze with eyes that reflected a storm of emotions.

“There’s something,” he said firmly. “Kiss me.”

A shiver ran down your spine. There was nothing you would like more than to kiss him. “Wouldn’t that make things worse?” you asked apprehensive.

“The person I imprinted on used me for months and is leaving in 3 days. Things can’t possibly get worse for me,” Chenle deadpanned. He stared at your lips and took one of your hands tenderly. “Can you let me have just one moment with you that feels real? Without the lies and the mind games?”

You breathed out against his lips. “O-okay…”

Chenle’s lips were on yours, slow and hot. You felt like you were floating. It had been so long since the last time you were this close to him, you had forgotten how well his lips fit into yours, how gratifying his body felt against yours, how easily he could turn you on with his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You couldn’t remember why you turned down his touch in the past when it was clearly what you needed the most–even the body ache you had woken up with was subsiding thanks to his ministrations.

It was the little moan that escaped you what brought you back to reality by the time he had taken your shirt off and was kissing your chest while playing with the strap of your bra.

“Chenle,” you moaned when he unclasped your bra and attached his lips to your tits. “I t-think we should stop now–”

He ignored your concerns, sucking on your nipple languidly.

“Ooh– Chenle I’m serious,” you started to panic at how dangerously good you were starting to feel. With how sensitive you were since you imprinted on him and how much you had been craving for him it wouldn’t take long for you to climax…and that’s a luxury you couldn’t afford if you were to leave with the crew in a couple of days.

“Don’t be like that,” he cooed, unbuttoning your jeans. “You hardly ever allowed me to touch you during our encounters. You can’t expect me to be satisfied with just a kiss when this could be the last time I see you.”

“T-then how about I make y-you feel good instead?” you offered nervously, trying to pull his hands away from you, but he quickly slapped your hands away.

“I don’t think so. We did things your way many times already. It’s my turn to make you cum,” he declared, pulling your pants down hastily.

“NO! WAIT!” you shrieked, grabbing his hands with all your strength.

Chenle stared into your eyes intently. “There’s that terrified expression again,” he uttered. “It’s almost like you don’t want to cum. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” he taunted. “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me…”

You gulped.You indeed hadn’t told him you imprinted on him and what the consequences of an orgasm would be. “I…I just–That’s n-not why I came here–”

“What’s so terrifying about me making you cum, hmm?” he inquired darkly, like he already knew the answer, cornering you against the window glass. “If you don’t give me a good reason I won’t stop.”

You couldn’t tell him, because if you did then you were 100% sure he wouldn’t stop. You didn’t want to do this again, but you didn’t see any other way out right now.

“Pup, listen to me–” you spoke sweetly but he clasped his hand on your mouth firmly.

“No, you won’t,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You apologize for bewitching me, but you try to do it again the second things don’t go as you planned?” he asked incredulously.

You squirmed but he didn't budge.

Chenle hummed, placing his free hand on the front of your neck and tracing his fingers over your throat, drawing what felt like random figures. “What a shame. That was your last chance.”

You gasped for air when he finally uncovered your mouth, but when you tried to speak again no words came out.

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth again, but even though you were saying words, they didn’t materialize into sounds.

You looked at Chenle in shock, and he smirked back at you.

“It’s not nice, huh? Not being able to say what you want,” he asked rhetorically.

‘What did you do?!’ you tried to ask, but of course once again nothing came out of your mouth.

Chenle understood your voiceless question though and he chuckled. “Here goes my first confession: I found out about what you were a few days ago. I’ve been thinking of ways to stop you from using that voice on me since then. At first I thought about choking you, but I was so fucking mad at you I was afraid I would end up breaking your neck, so I learned how to cast this little spell on your vocal chords.”

Your eyes widened, remembering how you thought that he was just caressing your neck seconds ago.

“I also know you imprinted on me,” he continued speaking, caressing your face. “And I know what will happen if I make you cum so, naturally, I will make it happen.”

Your instinct kicked in and you pushed him, trying to get away as fast as you could, but he quickly caught you and turned you around, pushing you against the window glass with him hugging you from behind. You shivered when the cold material made contact with your bare chest, and the beautiful city view reminded you of how embarrassingly exposed you were.

Chenle’s hand had already found its way into your panties, and he was pleasuring you skillfully and fast, with only one objective in mind.

“Here goes my second confession: I regret not killing that friend of yours,” he whispered next to your ear, while two of his fingers were buried inside of you. “Can’t believe you let him have you like this before me. It drove me mad to find out what you sound like when you’re cumming while in another man’s arms. But what made me even more furious was that you moaned my name. How fucking shameless can you be?”

You wanted to dig a hole and hide in it forever, but first you needed to run away.

He clicked his tongue when you kicked your leg back aimlessly trying to get him off you. “You’re being so rude when I’m making you feel so good you’re dripping down my hand?” He asked, adding a third finger and making you tighten around him.

You shook your head and tried to look at him over your shoulder, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, stilling his fingers inside of you.

You nodded promptly.

He sighed. “I guess I should respect your wishes just like you respected mine–Oh, right,” he pretended to suddenly remember something important. “You didn’t,” he concluded, fucking his fingers into you fast and hard.

You would have screamed if you could. You were so close and it was both marvelous and horrifying. If you gave in it would change your life forever, so you tried to even your breath and will yourself to think of something else.

“Would you look at that?” Chenle taunted. “I can see your ship from here…It’s a shame they’re too far to see how much of an obedient girl you’re being for me, taking my fingers so well, about to give yourself to me completely.”

You did not want anyone to see you like this, but you tried to remind yourself that this penthouse was on the highest floor in an exclusive neighborhood. Surely no one could see you.

“Mm…should I bite you before or after I get you off?” Chenle asked, placing a wet kiss on your neck.

You squirmed helplessly. At this point you knew you wouldn’t break free, and that your efforts were in vain, but you were too stubborn to accept your fate.

“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, abusing that spot that had you rolling your eyes while using his other hand to rub your clit roughly. “Give it to me now.”

Your ears rang and the city lights in front of you became blurry. You felt like the world was spinning around you while the tingly feeling that sometimes you experienced in your fingertips expanded through your body.

‘Chenle, Chenle, Chenle’ was the only thought in your mind. His firm hands on your body, his warm respiration on your neck, his expensive cologne invading your nostrils, his luscious voice murmuring words you couldn’t comprehend right now–he was everywhere. The feeling was so overwhelming, unlike any orgasm any man had ever given you before. There was no way back now. You were–

“All mine,” Chenle chuckled, removing his hands from your underwear and placing one of them on your throat to remove the spell. “Was that really so bad?” he asked, turning you around to face him.

You glared at him. “Y-you–,” you coughed and spoke shakily, still riding the neverending aftershoks of your orgasm. “Do you k-know what you just d-did?!”

“I’m fully aware,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I won’t be able to leave, you asshole!” you yelled at him as tears started forming in your eyes. “You ruined my life!”

The hand that was on your neck squeezed your throat.

“Like I said, I know what I did. That’s why I did it,” he grunted. “And just for your information, I only reversed the spell to hear you moan. Not for you to get bratty and annoying, so if you try to bewitch me or yell at me one more time you won’t be speaking until the end of my rut.”

You paled. “Y-your rut?!” you choked out.

“Third confession,” Chenle whispered against your lips. “I chose this night to meet because my rut is scheduled to start anytime soon. And you’re gonna help me through it.”

You kicked his leg just out of pettiness. You knew it probably didn’t hurt much and it wouldn’t get you out of this predicament, but you didn’t know how else to voice your anger.

He gave you an unamused look. “That’s it,” he growled, lifting you in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder unceremoniously. You squirmed, kicked, and hit whatever part of him you could reach but it only seemed to add to the punishment that was coming.

He opened the door to a bedroom, which was also surrounded by wide windows. Like the living room, it wasn’t fully furnished or decorated, but there was a king size bed in the middle and a nightstand, which was all that Chenle needed right now.

He sat on the bed and manhandled you so you were lying on your belly on his lap, and before you had the chance to ask anything or complain you felt a sharp pain on your ass.

“You’re going to behave,” he guaranteed, landing another slap that made you gasp. “Even if I have to force you to.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. If he had reversed the spell because he wanted to hear you moan then you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing a single sound from you.

After spanking you a couple more times he noticed what you were trying to pull.

“Really?” he asked, giving you a particularly hard smack that almost made you give in. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured.

He moved you onto the bed, removed your panties hastily and positioned you so your legs were hanging off the bed while still on your belly. You turned your head around suspiciously but you didn’t see him. You were going to sit up when you felt a pair of firm hands gripping your asscheeks and something warm and wet grazing your inner labia.

You yelped and Chenle chuckled against your center before diving in.

It had been a long time since someone ate you out from behind; usually you were the one in charge, so being in such a compromising position was humiliating yet he was making you feel so good…

No. You couldn’t let him know you were enjoying this. You bit your lip and grasped onto the bed sheets desperately.

His tongue slid inside of you and he landed another slap on your ass, feeling you clench around the wet muscle. He pulled away for a second to say some cheeky comment, but a malicious kick almost landed on his face.

Furiously, he stood up and climbed on the bed, grabbing you as you were crawling away and forcing you to turn around to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” he growled.

“Fuck you!” you hissed in response.

“Fucking brat,” he spat, unbuckling his belt and straddling you. “After all you’ve done you think you have the right to be angry?”

“Oh and you’re any better?” you asked indignantly. “You forced an orgasm out of me even though you knew what that implied–”

“Agreed,” he conceded, unbuttoning his pants. “We’re both terrible people and now we’re stuck together, so you might as well get used to it–”

“I may be bonded to you but you don’t own me! I’m sure Yeosang can help me find a way to undo this–Hhmp!” your ranting was interrupted by Chenle grabbing your jaw firmly and shoving his cock in your mouth, absolutely not in the mood to listen anymore.

“Mm, yeah that’s better,” he hummed, thrusting the head of his cock in and out slowly. “Such a beautiful voice but all that comes out of your mouth is poisonous.”

You tried to complain, but the vibrations only pleased Chenle even more.

“Yeah, go on, princess,” he encouraged you mockingly, sinking some more of his length into your mouth.

You shot him a dirty look and hollowed your cheeks to give a hard suck, tasting the salty liquid that the tip oozed.

He moaned and his body bent in pleasure. “Oh yeah?” he sneered, pulling out slightly to thrust back in. “Do your worst, princess, fuck–”

“Hmm,” you moaned around him, stretching your lips and straining your neck to bob your head.

Chenle felt like his head was spinning. You had pleasured him with your mouth before, but this was different. He had never had so much power over you. It made him feel euphoric. He placed his hands on your head to keep you in place, pulling your hair unintentionally. His mouth hung slack and he fucked your mouth rhythmically.

It took you choking when his cock hit the back of your throat for him to cum in your mouth with a guttural moan, trapping your head between his pelvis and the mattress until you drank every single drop.

With a jaded sigh, he climbed off your chest to start going lower, kissing every corner of your body on the way until he positioned himself with his face between your legs to continue what he had started.

You let out a broken moan when he captured your clit with his mouth and sucked insistently.

Your legs kicked his back and you pulled his hair angrily but you couldn’t refrain from moaning, much to his delight. He sucked, and sucked until the stimulation was painful, and almost wished he moved his mouth somewhere else but he was suctioning your clit with obsessive intent, wanting it to feel so good it hurt, wanting to break you.

He alternated between flattening his tongue against you while shaking his head and going back to harsh sucking until your stomach contorts and your mind goes blank, making your legs shake in pleasure.

…Except he doesn’t stop.

It was the first time he had you cum in his mouth and now he was captivated. He wished you had let him do this sooner. How dare you keep this away from him all this time?!

“Do it again,” he grumbled against your core between sloppy licks.

“Are y-haa…are you insane?!” you whined, trying to push him away.

He looked up at you with reddened eyes and growled, slapping your inner thigh.

“I said,” he spoke roughly. “Do it again,” he commanded, getting back to work.

This time he was all over the place, licking and slurping every drop of your release and making you shriek in pleasure and embarrassment. He wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. This belonged to him. You belonged to him. And he would take it as many times as he wanted.

You trembled when he once again focused your clit, like it was his new favorite toy, and circled it with his tongue going clockwise and then counterclockwise, and then flicking it barely with the tip of his tongue.

You whined and the death grip you had on his hair to push him away ended up pushing his head closer to your center.

He moaned appreciatively and let you fuck his face until he heard you gasp brokenly, so he sucked hard, bringing you to yet another orgasm.

Your body relaxed on the bed while he cleaned you up with his tongue languidly, making you wince and convulse sporadically.

Once he finally licked all he could find, he climbed back up so he was face to face with you.

“I hate you,” you croaked.

“Yeah?” he purred, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “I don’t think you do…And even if you did, that’s too bad, because I’m obsessed with you,” he concluded, diving in for another kiss.

He was right, you didn’t hate him. You were just mad, and scared, but you loved his lips on yours, and the way his body rocked against yours, and his hard cock pushing against your entrance–

“Ah–haaa, fuck–Chenle!” you moaned loudly when he pushed in slowly, stretching you out delightfully.

He swallowed your moans with his kisses, between hushed praises for taking him so well.

“My pretty princess…” he breathed out once he bottomed up completely. He grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it up and outwards before rolling his hips experimentally. He starts very slowly, allowing you to feel every vein of his cock dragging against your inner walls and you have no words to describe how good it feels.

His eyes lit up when he hit a spot that made you arch your back, aiming to hit it harder.

“What happened to that fierce attitude?” he teased when you let out a strangled moan.

You only looked at him with wide eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders clumsily without knowing what to do with yourself. Having him inside of you after having consummated the bond made everything feel 10 times more intense. There was nothing you could possibly say to express how good it felt to have your mate’s cock kissing your cervix so divinely.

“Poor Y/N,” Chenle spoke condescendingly, using his thumb to wipe some drool off the corner of your mouth. “Cock so good you can’t speak?”

You try to think of a comeback. You really do, but how could you when he was filling you all the way up and hitting all the right places–at the same time?

He chuckled darkly, snapping his hips hard once, twice and then building up a steady rhythm that had you screaming like he always wanted you to.

“Oh g-god…” was the first coherent sentence you said, throwing your head back.

“That’s my princess,” he praised, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Submitting for her mate–haa…,” he moaned as he nosed along your neck, looking for the right spot to leave his mark.

“C-chenle–” you whined, feeling yourself getting closer the more his pelvis grinded against your clit.

He sank his teeth into your skin and you felt that white pleasure consume you again, making you cum with a silent scream and your legs shake around Chenle’s waist.

He winced when you contracted around his cock, murmuring nonsense about how tight and perfect you were for him while licking the fresh wound on your neck.

You were shaking like a leaf, whispering his name like it was the only thing you knew and he just didn’t stop.

“Fuck! P-please!” you cried out when he pressed his hips against yours harshly and moved them in a circular way before resuming his unrelenting assault.

You didn’t think you could take any more so you tried to push him away weakly, but he pinned you down by your wrists.

Both of you knew you weren’t actually trying to rebel anymore, but his wolf loved to show off his strength, making you submit. He had wanted to dominate you the moment he met you, but his rut had turned that want into a need.

“C-can’t,” you sobbed, but the more you squirmed, the harder he fucked you.

“You’re g-gonna take it,” he grunted, squeezing your wrists and thrusting fast enough to make you see stars.

Tears slid down your face but you nodded obediently and that sent Chenle into a frenzy. He let go of your wrists to grab onto your waist, sitting up and ramming into you at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Aah…Haa, fuck, Y/N–my obedient little mate, yeah…” he moaned.

You whined at the praise, letting him fuck every coherent thought out of your head.

“All you have t-to do is take it,” he spoke with slurred words as he impaled you into his cock like a ragdoll. “Let me have you like this,” he emphasized the last word with a hard thrust. “Let me m-make you feel good mm…”

You nodded dumbly while he pounded you on the bed.

“Look this pretty–oh fuck, so pretty for me,” he sounded strained, and his movements were haltering. “Let me g-give you anything you could…oooh anything y-you could possibly want,” he was getting desperate, feeling his knot starting to form was pushing him over the edge. “L-let me…,” he gulped, forcing his knot into you and making you scream. “Oooh Y/N, fuuuck–”

You couldn’t breathe. It was too much. He was too deep, and he was trying to pull you impossibly closer as his cock throbbed inside of you and he finally came with a shaky sigh, shooting endless spurts of cum inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back as he convulsed on top of you, once again pinning your wrists just for show, to remind you he was in charge.

Once both of you came down from your high, Chenle took in the view and beamed with pride.

You were sprawled out on your back, with his mark on your neck, fucked dumb, submissive, completely overstimulated, impaled on his cock, and full of what soon would be his pups.

This was what he would wake up to everyday, in this very apartment he had bought for both of you.

Meanwhile, on the ship, Captain Hongjoong put his spyglass down and walked away from the window, letting out an impressed whistle.

“Seongwha, make preparations for a farewell party,” he requested, sitting on his chair and putting his feet on the table. “Looks like Y/N’s staying in this town.”

“You’re so mean,” Seongwha replied, unimpressed. “You knew this would happen when you sent her to speak with him.”

“She’ll thank me one day,” Hongjoong assured him, winking playfully.

#chenle #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #chenle x reader #chenle smut #chenle scenarios #chenle nct

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supernovafics · 4 months ago

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you and steve hate each other but... maybe not anymore?

wc: 588

a/n: i was working on this and then stopped and then finally got around to finishing it<333 this is basically a third part to two other blurb-ish things i wrote (first thing / second thing)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there was somewhat of a shift that happened after the night you went over to steve’s house when he was sick. neither you nor he spoke about this shift— for some reason, it didn’t feel right to— but it still felt completely obvious.

when he went back to work a few days after that night, finally returned to full-ish health, you decided against making some teasing jab about how he still looked pretty bad, even though it was on the tip of your tongue. and he didn’t dryly say, “glad to see you didn’t burn the place down while i was gone,” with a harsh roll of his eyes.

both of those things should’ve happened. it always made more sense to make fun of one another than to do anything else; it was all a part of the animosity-filled dynamic you two shared. however, on that afternoon, you both said simple “hi’s” and “hello’s” and that was that.

you two definitely weren’t friends, but you could admit (only to yourself, definitely not to him) that you didn’t dislike him as much as you once did. for the first time probably ever, things were actually civil between you two, and it didn’t feel like they were being forced to be that way.

an unspoken truce was agreed upon and it stayed that way for the final week and a half you were covering for robin while she was out of town.

and then the last day rolled around.

a comfortable silence lingered throughout most of that day. customers coming in and out and you and steve alternating helping each person. there was even a moment when he made a joke that you found yourself laughing at before you could tell yourself not to.

“robin’s back tomorrow, so today’s my last day,” you randomly decided to remind him at one point toward the end of the shift. “actually, i don’t know why i’m saying that when you’ve definitely been counting down the days until i’m out of here.”

you expected him to agree with your words, but he didn’t; at least not outwardly.

“i’m sure keith would give you a job if you wanted it,” steve said. “i’m pretty sure he likes you.”

you outwardly cringed. “ugh, don’t say that.”

it was quiet for a second. you both continued stocking the recently returned tapes on the cart behind the counter since the store was empty and there was nothing else to do.

“so…” you started and then trailed off, suddenly feeling nervous, even though you had never felt that way around steve. “um, you would actually want me to work here? with you?” you quickly tried to correct yourself. “you and robin.”

he was quiet for a few moments and then simply shrugged. “robin would definitely love it.” he finished stocking the last tape in his hand before looking at you. “and i wouldn’t mind it.”

that said more than enough to you.

“okay,” you gave him a small nod, pretending as if you were entirely unaffected by his civility and this niceness that had never been directed toward you; which, rightfully so, because you were never nice to him either. until now. “i’ll think about it.”

you didn’t hate him, you realized later when you were back home and robin was calling to tell you about her trip and also ask you how it was working with steve for the past month. and you also realized that maybe you never really did hate him in the first place.

#i forgot how much i loved writing for these two #truly truly thinking about writing something longer for this lil “universe” i have going on here #.....and i already may have an idea or two #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things fluff

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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

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Also preserved on our archive

By Jamie Ducharme

When you reach for a COVID-19 test, it’s probably because you’ve got a scratchy throat, runny nose, or cough. But those are far from the only symptoms that make Dr. Rohit Jain, an internal medicine doctor at PennState Health, suspect the virus.

These days, when someone complains of nausea, diarrhea, or vomiting, “I always get a COVID test on that patient,” Jain says.

Why? Despite its reputation as a respiratory virus, SARS-CoV-2 can also have a profound impact on the gut. Although most people don’t realize it, “COVID-19 really is a GI-tract disease” as well as a respiratory illness, says Dr. Mark Rupp, chief of infectious diseases at the University of Nebraska Medical Center.

Here’s what to know about the gastrointestinal symptoms of COVID-19.

What are the GI symptoms of COVID-19? While some people experience no gastrointestinal symptoms or mild ones, a subset of COVID-19 patients have experienced significant digestive symptoms since the early days of the pandemic.

Loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and stomach pain are common GI symptoms of COVID-19, according to Jain’s research. Some people experience these issues as their first signs of infection, he says, while others initially experience cold-like symptoms and develop gastrointestinal issues as their illness progresses.

It’s not entirely clear why the same virus can affect people so differently, but it’s good to be aware that SARS-CoV-2 can result in a wide range of symptoms, Rupp says.

How long do GI symptoms of COVID-19 last? Some patients recover in a matter of days, Jain says, while others may suffer from diarrhea and other symptoms for weeks.

Still others may be sick for even longer. Gastrointestinal problems are a common manifestation of Long COVID, the name for chronic symptoms that follow a case of COVID-19 and can last indefinitely.

One recent study in Clinical Gastroenterology and Hepatology found that, among a small group of adults who were hospitalized when they had acute COVID-19, more than 40% who originally experienced GI problems such as stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea still had at least one a year or more later. Overall, whether they were hospitalized or not, adults who have had COVID-19 are about 36% more likely than uninfected people to develop gastrointestinal disorders including ulcers, pancreatitis, IBS, and acid reflux, according to a 2023 study published in Nature Communications.

GI problems are also common among kids with Long COVID. Stomach pain, nausea, and vomiting are telltale signs of the condition among children younger than 12, according to 2024 research published in JAMA.

Why a respiratory virus affects the gut How can the same virus cause both a runny nose and the runs?

Once SARS-CoV-2 gets into your body, it infects cells by binding to a protein called ACE2, which is found throughout the body. ACE2 is prevalent in the lungs, which helps explain COVID-19’s respiratory symptoms—but it’s also found in high concentrations in the gastrointestinal tract, “so it makes sense that the GI tract would be a target for the virus,” Rupp says. It’s in part because SARS-CoV-2 collects in the gut that wastewater surveillance is a useful tool for tracking the virus’ spread, Rupp adds.

Studies have shown that the virus can hide out in the “nooks and crannies” of the digestive system for months or even years, says Ziyad Al-Aly, a clinical epidemiologist at the Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis who co-authored the Nature Communications study on chronic post-COVID GI symptoms. This may explain why gut-related symptoms can long outlast an acute infection, Al-Aly says—but there are many potential hypotheses in play, and researchers don’t know for sure which one or ones are correct.

For example, many researchers also think the virus is capable of causing widespread and sometimes long-lasting inflammation, potentially affecting organs throughout the body. This inflammatory response may have trickle-down effects on the gut microbiome, the colony of bacteria and other microbes that live in the GI tract, Rupp says. “We’re just scratching the surface as to what happens there,” Rupp says, but studies have already shown that SARS-CoV-2 can change the composition of the gut microbiome both during an acute infection and chronically.

There’s also a complex relationship between the gut and the brain, adds Dr. Badih Joseph Elmunzer, a gastroenterologist at the Medical University of South Carolina and co-author of the Clinical Gastroenterology and Hepatology study on prolonged post-COVID GI symptoms. His research suggests people are particularly likely to suffer long-term GI problems if they also have signs of PTSD from their acute illness or hospitalization.

That’s not to say GI symptoms are all in patients’ heads; on the contrary, Elmunzer says, they are very real. But, he says, there’s a lot left to learn about the microbiome, the gut, and the myriad ways they interact with other bodily systems.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator #long covid #covid conscious #covid is airborne

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pamwritessometimes · 11 days ago

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Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 9

Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: angsty SMUT (MDNI), some fluff, domestic Russell deserves a warning, VW Beetle-shaming (yep, it’s real)

A/N: Hey, loves. I know I've been pretty absent here, and just a little fyi; my lack of responses aren't coming from a place of ignorance. I’ve been grappling with my mental health for a while now, and right now, I'm at the bottom of the rollercoaster. But don’t worry, I’m working my way back up, just like any sane person would do: with dying my hair red. No, seriously. I’m writing this with red dye in my hair. Alright, jokes aside, I really am getting there, bit by bit. Also, I'll get to reply to everyone eventually. Thank you for your patience, ily all!! 🤍💖

A/N 2.0: Oh, btw, we’re here, folks! Jumping (almost) straight into the smut. Hope you’re ready to enjoy every steamy minute of it – because trust me, it’s a bit on the longer side. Enjoy! 😏

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 8 here

Tuesday's Gone masterlist

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The morning sun beamed in through the living room curtains, casting long stripes of light on the floor carpet as you stood, nervously drumming with your leg. It was Emma’s first day back at kindergarten since the whole kidnapping ordeal – an event you now refer to simply as “the Rourke incident.” You weren’t entirely sure she was ready, but her psychiatrist, who’d been meeting with her twice a week, had insisted it was best to get her back to normal life as soon as possible.

Two months. That’s how long it had been since everything went sideways, and since Russell had worked his way back into your life. Healing had been slow, but definitely steady.

“Come on!” Russell’s irritated voice cut through the quiet. He was out in the yard, wrestling with your car, which had apparently chosen today to stage a rebellion by refusing to start. Emma, already anxious about facing her mates again after so much time away, didn’t need this kind of drama. Neither did you, to be frank.

You glanced down at yourself for the hundredth time, brushing nonexistent lint off your blazer. It had been ages since you’d worn anything like this – at least it felt like it. The kind of outfit that screamed Yes, I’m totally put together, even if you weren’t quite there yet.

Your first day back at work as a project manager after everything. Two months of juggling nightmares, therapy appointments, and figuring out how to co-parent with Russell, who, by the way, had unofficially moved into your house, claiming the couch, meaning, he ditched whatever motel he was residing in before. To be fair, you were the one to offer it to him. He was practically living here 24/7 anyway.

At least this wasn’t a real workday, not yet. Just a soft launch. Your boss, who’d been more than understanding (hard not to be when your life-or-death situation made the news), suggested you start with half-days for the next two weeks. A gentle easing back into the chaos, he called it.

You called it a godsend and said yes before he could change his mind.

Today wasn’t about deadlines or meetings. It was about relearning what normal was supposed to feel like.

And this morning was serving up all the normal it could muster.

“Is it ready yet?” you called through the open window, your tone between hopeful and pleading.

Russell stood up from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag that must have been white once. A streak of grease marked his jaw.

“Almost there” he muttered. “Damn thing’s stubborn as a mule.”

“Stubborn like its mechanic” you quipped, earning yourself a mock glare. He ducked back under the hood, muttering something you didn’t catch but hearing the faint chuckle at the end.

Emma darted into the living room, her ridicolously huge backpack bouncing on her shoulders.

“Are we going to be late?” she asked and you could hear the worry in her voice.

“Nope, Daddy’s got it handled” you said, channeling every ounce of fake confidence you had.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to be late either.

“Alright” Russell called, slamming the hood shut. “She’s good to go.”

He shot you a thumbs-up before opening the driver’s door and sliding in to test the ignition. The engine roared to life and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“See? Told you” you said to Emma, giving her a quick hug before letting her scramble into the backseat. You followed suit, sliding into the front passenger seat.

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t just take my car” he said, nodding toward his Chevy parked smugly beside your Beetle. “And honestly, I look ridiculous in this chick-jalopy.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence.

“First of all, it’s not a chick-jalopy. It’s reliable, it’s efficient, and Emma loves it. Also, it’s cute,” you said, punctuating your point by wiping the grease off his jaw with a tissue.

“Cute, my a–”

He caught himself just in time.

Emma groaned dramatically from the back. “Can we please go? I don’t wanna be late!”

“Alright, boss lady. Bubble Buggy, away!” Russell declared, throwing the car into gear and earning a playful glare from you.

And with that, your little circus hit the road.

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The drop-off went surprisingly well. Emma, clutching her Veterinarian Barbie, marched into the classroom with a nervous determination that made your chest swell with pride. Russell had insisted on coming along, too – not that you were surprised. He’d been a constant in her life these past couple of months, and Emma seemed to soak up his presence like a little sunflower.

As the three of you walked toward the building, you bent down and pulled her into a quick hug, whispering a few last words of encouragement. She nodded solemnly, then turned and practically cannonballed into Russell’s arms.

Watching her cling to him so naturally still took you by surprise.

You never doubted she’d warm up to him – he was her dad, after all. A figure she always asked about, a figure she always wanted. But the way Russell stepped into the role, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this chance? That was something you hadn’t expected. The man who once seemed allergic to responsibility was now the same man who played Barbies, kissed Emma’s scraped knees better, and read her bedtime stories in silly voices that always made her giggle. He didn’t let her leave the house without one of his big bear hugs, and she never wanted to. It was a version of Russell you hadn’t dared to imagine… but here he was, proving you wrong every damn day.

She lingered in his arms for just a second longer, her hands clutching at his shirt.

“You’re gonna crush it, bug” he murmured, his voice soft.

With a reluctant nod, she finally let go, her sense of duty overriding her nerves. She turned and headed inside, her tiny figure disappearing into the colorful chaos of the kindergarten room.

You and Russell stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching her find her seat. She looked so small, dwarfed by the bright kiddy decorations and the chatter of her mates.

But before you could get too worried, her friends appeared like little magnets, pulling her into a circle of excited hugs. You saw her freeze for half a second, clearly not expecting the ambush, but then she smiled. That big, glowing smile that could light up a whole city block.

“She’s tougher than we give her credit for” Russell said, a touch of pride in his voice.

“She gets it from me” you teased lightly, though your throat tightened as you said it. You yourself didn’t quite believe it.

He chuckled with a warm and familiar sound. “Yeah, that tracks.”

His hand brushed yours as you both turned to leave, and you didn’t pull away.

“Come on” he said with a lopsided grin, tilting his head toward the exit. “I’ve got one more girl to drop off.”

He took your hand in yours and guided you back toward your “Tiara Taxi”. You wondered how many goddamn names he could come up with for that poor car.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time you got home, the house felt… off. Too quiet, to be more precise. You weren’t used to not hearing Emma’s chatter bouncing off the walls.

Kicking off your heels by the door, you loosened your blazer and rolled your shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the day. The tension melted a little when you spotted Russell in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. He was freshly showered, his hair still slightly damp, wearing jeans and that old Cream T-shirt, the one he wore the day you met him at the diner you used to work at. It had more holes than fabric now, but somehow it made him look maddeningly hot.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“It was… bearable” you said, reaching for the coffee pot. “Everyone at work looked at me like I was a ghost. Honestly, I felt like one. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Emma handled her first day better than I handled mine.”

Pouring yourself a cup, you moved to stand beside him, close enough to share the space but not enough to touch.

“Thanks for fixing the car this morning” you said, giving him a quick sidelong glance. “I can’t even imagine the meltdown we’d have had if we’d been late.”

He grinned, his eyes staying on you a beat too long, despite the teasing tone in his voice.

“I’ll fix that Cupcake Cruiser anytime.”

And there it was again – that unspoken something that had been simmering between you two for weeks. It filled the space between every casual brush of your arms, every shared smirk. Ever since that kiss, the tension had been building, stopping only at the occasional soft kisses, lingering touches, or the way his hand would find yours without a word.

You weren’t imagining it, and you definitely weren’t immune to it. If anything, it was getting harder to pretend it wasn’t there.

“I should change” you said, your voice a little shaky as you pointed vaguely at your blazer, like that was the problem.

“You look good” he blurted out, almost before he realized it. His ears went red, but he didn’t backpedal. “I mean… you always look good, but this… this is…” His gaze slid over you like he was taking in a masterpiece, and your pulse picked up in response.

“Russ…” you started, but he took a step closer. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him like a furnace.

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual, like it took everything he had to keep it calm.

“You’re not” you whispered.

That was all the permission he needed. His hands slid around your waist, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, he closed the gap between you, kissing you like a madman. It was urgent, messy, and desperate, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were or what you were supposed to be doing.

It was frantic and just so different from the soft kisses before.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you as close as your bodies physically allowed and you found yourself clutching at his tee like you might fall if you didn’t hold on. Your coffee, long forgotten, sat cold on the counter behind you, watching the scene unfold silently.

He pulled away just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath coming in ragged gasps. His highly delirious eyes searched yours, silently asking if you felt it too, the same thing pulsing between you two.

You did.

You felt it in your bones, and it was undeniable.

Without a word, he kissed you again, but this time, slower, more like he had all the time in the world. He took his sweet time, as if he needed to rediscover every inch of you, like he’d forgotten and now had to make up for lost time. His hands drifted to your waist, your back, tangled in your hair, touching you like you were the only thing that existed in that moment.

And for him, you kind of were.

Before you knew it, you were in the bedroom, your blazer tossed somewhere on the floor along with his t-shirt. The rest of your clothes followed in a blur of fumbling hands and breathless laughter, the weight of the past two months – and the years before that – melting away with every touch.

When he finally had you beneath him, his gaze softened, the intensity giving way to something deeper. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hands cupping his face. “I’m sure.”

He looked down at you, his long hair brushing your face as you pulled him closer, bringing his lips to yours again. This time, the kiss was a promise: one that said you were sure, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, now your barely clothed heat just two thin fabrics away from the place where it wants to be – given you both were only in your underwear by then.

He groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, stopping you from rubbing yourself against his erection.

“I’ll cream in my boxers if you keep this up.”

You giggled and popped yourself on your elbows. “I’d rather have you cream somewhere else” you said with a mischievous grin.

His laughter was sudden and rich, the kind that came straight from his chest. It was a sound of pure joy and disbelief.

So she’s still freaky, he mentally remarked in delight.

“God, I love you” he murmured, the words spilling out before he even realized he’d said them. He didn’t pause to dwell on his unplanned confession – he kissed you once more, but this time his hand slid to the back of your bra. It took a few clumsy tries, but when it finally gave way, he pushed the lace off your shoulders, letting it fall somewhere forgotten at the edge of the bed.

He pulled away from your lips, taking a moment to admire the view of your perky breasts, the cool air from the AC making your nipples harden from the breeze.

Perfect, just like he remembered.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing soft kisses along the valley of your chest before suckling each nipple, his hand gently massaging the other. The warm, teasing pressure of his mouth sent a shiver through you, drawing out a chorus of soft moans, going straight into his now desperately hard cock, unconsciously rubbing it against the sheets.

Once his mouth had given one of your nipples the attention it deserved, he moved to the other, murmuring, “So soft.”

As your fingers brushed over familiar lines and curves, memories came rushing back like you’d just pressed play on a reel. Your palms glided over his firm chest and carved torso, stopping at the edge of his waistband. The fabric clung to his hips, daring you to go further.

It was surprisingly easy to recollect your memories about the details of him – you could still map the old scars you knew by heart (though there were new ones now), the freckles on his shoulder and chest, the little imperfections of his body you used to love all those years ago.

You seemed even more fascinated by them now.

Soft grunts and groans slipped from his lips as he felt your hands slip into his underwear. The hardness of his dick against your palm sent a rush of wildfire through your veins, feeling how much he still wanted you.

Needed you, really.

But he grabbed your hand, stopping its slow movements over his member.

“Not yet” he murmured, and though it took all his willpower, he pulled your hands out of his underwear, just to lift his head from your chest to start a slow, deliberate trail of wet kisses down your torso. Each kiss felt like a secret he was telling only your skin, moving lower and lower, until he reached the curve of your abdomen.

He paused there, pressing his lips to the spot where your lace panties met your silky skin.

His hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles over the delicate lace. He glanced up at you, his green eyes still searching for reassurance that you were still on-board with all of this.

You absolutely were.

When the lace finally hit the floor and joined the growing heap of clothes, he didn’t dive right in. Instead, he paused to just look at you, his gaze so intense it made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at once. He was looking at you like you were something sacred.

You couldn’t help it, your mind wandered. Your body wasn’t the same as it had been four years ago, not after the pregnancy. And even though you tried to push the thought away, a flicker of self-doubt crept in. Would he notice? Would it matter?

“God, you’re beautiful” he mumbled, as if reading your mind, before leaning in to press his lips against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he added, and the sincerity in his voice sent a flush straight to your weeping pussy, soaking the sheets beneath you. He noticed, loving the effect he had on you. And the best part is: he meant every word. “Nobody compares… nobody.”

His hands stayed firm on your hips, holding you steady as he left a trail of kisses that edged closer and closer to your slick center.

Toe-curlingly teasing.

“Fuck– Russ” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips finally found the spot where you were aching for him most.

His tongue danced around your folds, barely using any pressure at first, licking long stripes just to drive you even wilder. He kept up the slow, teasing pace, looking up at your soft features, until he was sure he’d made you wait long enough. His hands gripped your bent legs, holding you in place, making sure you weren’t going anywhere – not like going away crossed your mind.

“You taste so sweet, baby. Just like I remembered” he murmured, lapping lustfully at your lips.

Your needy, swollen clit ached for his mouth, his touch, anything, really, and it’s just like he heard its plea, he guided his lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it gently. The moan that slipped from your lips was louder than you meant it to be, but Russell didn’t seem to care. In fact, if his smirk was anything to go by, he seemed to love it, and just felt even more encouraged to be more and more daring. Bolder. Hungrier.

He devoured you like you were the finest meal he’d ever had, like he’d been starving for years and you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, your body trembling on the precipice, he looked up at you, his face was flushed, his swollen lips and trimmed stubble glistening with your essence, looking absolutely, insanely, unbelievably hot.

"Come on, sweetheart" he murmured against your skin with a voice both rough and encouraging, like he needed this just as much as you did. "Be a good girl and let go f’me."

To help you get over the edge, he slipped one finger inside of you, plunging it in and out of your sloppy hole at a delicious pace.

And just like that, with one final, perfectly timed and placed flick of his tongue, you came undone. Your whole body went taut, and the world blurred for a moment as a white-hot wave of bliss crashed over you and you came over his face. You didn’t have any time to overthink it, be embarrassed about it, since he didn’t stop lapping at your juices, nor the vigorous fingering of your pussy.

He continued until you had nothing more to give, easing you back down with gentle kisses and slowly decreasing strokes. With his tongue still on your sensitive lips, you slowly floated back to reality.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, he was hovering above you.

You could see his expression was somewhere between boyish pride and unshakable devotion.

“Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “I love seeing you coming undone because of me.”

You were still catching your breath, panting heavily, but you managed to kneel on the bed in front of him. “Let me…”

“No” His hands gently brushed yours away from his waistband, and for a moment, your heart sank.

Did he change his mind? Or worse – did he not want you to please him the way he’d just please you?

Sensing the hurricane of self-doubt flicker across your face, he leaned in with a soft, reassuring smile. “I want this to be about you. Last time… we didn’t exactly finish properly because–”

His words trailed off, but you both knew what he meant. Your last time together more than four years ago…. when that man broke into your home. The gunshot. The way you’d panicked and pushed him away afterward. It was a night neither of you could forget, no matter how much you tried.

“I just… want to make it up to you” he confessed. “For that night. For everything after.”

You felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes, and the softness in his touch. It wasn’t just about physical pleasure – it was about the things left unsaid, the things neither of you had been able to fix in the aftermath.

You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as your eyes locked.

“You don’t have to make anything up” you said softly, your words brushing against his lips. “You’re here now. You showed up when it mattered. That’s enough.”

You kissed him, slow and sure, letting him feel every bit of what you meant. The taste of yourself on his lips just fueled the intensity of the moment. Your hands slid back to his boxers, giving the waistband a playful tug. “Now…” you said with a small smirk “let’s get rid of these before I lose my patience.”

He smiled, swallowing a chuckle, before helping you with the rest. His cock sprang free, standing tall and proud against his stomach. The girth and the delicious pattern of veins still managed to take your breath away.

You could still remember how he felt, how he tasted…

As his underwear hit the floor, you both knelt on the bed, your eyes locked before flicking down to his pre-cum-soaked erection.

“Jesus fuck” you exhaled, mouth watering, your hands skimming his waist, summoning the courage to take what you needed.

You wrapped your hand around the base, his member instantly reacting to your touch, accompanied by another strangled moan from his lips. He let you stroke him a little, his breath hitching, before he managed to ask, “Are you still on birth control?”

You froze mid-motion, caught off guard.

“Uh, no” you admitted. “Didn’t exactly work out last time, did it?” you added with a wry smile. It stung a little to say, but it was true. And honestly, you wouldn’t change a thing – not when it meant having Emma.

Russell caught the flicker of bittersweetness in your eyes, his own softening as he started to say, “I’ve got a–“

“Bottom drawer, right side” you cut him off with a smirk, tilting your head toward the nightstand.

A laugh rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, grabbing what he needed.

“You really are always two steps ahead, huh?” he teased, his grin widening as he slipped on the condom.

He was hovering above you, eyes locked, and yet somehow it felt like he was on the other side of the planet.

“Are you… really, absolutely sure?” he asked, his voice a mix of doubt and desperation.

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “Stop asking, Russ. Stop second-guessing yourself.”

He smiled softly at your words and guided himself towards your slick core, the tip already nudging at your entrance. He looked down at you, giving you one last chance to back off before he let himself give in to the desire that’s been building up in him for months now.

You nodded softly, granting him any permission he’d ever asked for. He took a shaky breath, bracing himself for what was about to come.

Then, he eased himself in.

The intrusion was both foreign and familiar at first. He was only half-way in, but he already felt you getting tighter and tighter.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll go slow” he murmured as he soothed your skin on your thighs.

The slick from your previous orgasm helped him bottom out slowly but surely, and once he was fully seated, he let out a long, throaty moan. He stilled for a moment, eyes shut, grabbing into your bent thighs to steady himself.

“Missed you s’much… missed this…” he whispered. “Thought I’d never–“

The words died on his lips.

The rawness of his voice, the desperation, the way he said those words with so much honesty and regret, clutched your heart. You knew he meant it, you knew how much he had been hurting – just like you. But you also couldn't help but feel just as guilty. Most of his pain was caused by you, the way you handled things, the way you’d pushed him away when things got tough, the way you’d shut him out… It was all your doing, just as much as it was his.

Not being able to take the weight of it, you gently cupped his face, guiding him back to look at you.

You looked at him like you were about to say something that weighed on your shoulders for long, something that’ll change everything between the both of you. He sensed it, green irises burning into yours, waiting.

“I love you, too, Russ” you whispered, voice tight with emotion, afraid he might not have heard you right by the look on his face. “I love you” you repeated, louder this time, as if to make sure it was clear, and by the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, he heard it loud and perfectly clear.

“And I missed you, too” you added.

That was it. That was all he needed to hear. His hips began to move as his lips elicited soft grunts and moans, his hands still holding on to your thighs, bruisingly tight.

“God, sweetheart. Say it–” he grunted, burying himself inside of you, his tip brushing against your deepest parts. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Russell. I think I never really stopped.”

It did it to him. He dived into you like a man on a mission. The tenderness was still there, yet he gave way to something more primal, something almost bestial.

Squelching, lewd noises and moans filled the otherwise quiet room. The pace he was setting wasn’t necessarily brutal, but the way he slammed into you with such precision was almost too perfect to handle.

Your otherwise sensitive bundle of nerves screamed as he slipped his thumb on them, applying just the right amount of pressure.

You could feel how close you were. Hell, he could feel how close you were. The way your walls tightened and how you could barely hold your moans were a pretty good indication of what was about to come. Literally.

“Fuck- Russ” you moaned as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts, his fingers still rubbing on your clit.

“I know…” he panted, “I know… I’m- I’m getting close, too. But I need to feel you comin’ around me, sweetheart. You can let go, baby. Then I’ll fill you up good.”

His own voice was strangled, barely holding on, but the urge to make you reach it first was still stronger.

“Let go f’me, pretty girl” he instructed, rubbing your clit just a bit harder.

The coil finally snapped in your stomach, feeling a sensation you can’t quite remember when you had last.

“There you go. Such a good girl. Such a perfect girl. God, how I love it when you do this” he moaned and felt his cock twitch buried deep in your velvety walls. He looked down at your joint bodies and saw his dick laced with your essence, forming a creamy ring at the base. The sight itself was the thing to push over the edge.

He came with a groan, burying himself inside of you, his thighs and body going taut while he tried not to collapse on top of you. His member was suffocating in the confines of the condom, his seed still loading the rubber.

He didn’t want to move. Neither did you. The only sound of the room was your tangled breaths and the intense pounding of your hearts. He let himself lower himself once his eyes dared to creak open, finding your eyes still busking in the afterglow.

“Are you okay? Was I too rough? Didn’t I—”

You cut him off with a gentle, breathless laugh, fingers brushing his chest as you tried to make sense of the way your heart was pounding, both from the intensity of the moment and the unexpected peace that followed it.

“Russ… I’m okay. Great, actually” You smiled, your voice soft.

His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of relief flashing through his eyes, followed by that familiar teasing grin. “Huh… You got me worried a bit. I’ve got worried it was post-but clarity on your face.”

“No post-nut clarity here. Just... clarity”

He smiled softly at that, then slowly pulled out of you and removed the piece of plastic, tossing it into the bin.

For a moment, he just froze, unsure of what to do next. Would it be too much to hold you? Was that stepping into too much territory?

You gave him a sleepy, amused look. “Come on” you mumbled, your voice low and slightly hoarse. “You’ve just fucked the wind out of me. You think I’d kick you out of my bed afterward?”

He laughed, the tension easing out of his shoulders. "Fair point. I just… wasn’t sure if you’d want me to stay.”

You shifted a little, making space for him beside you, your gaze soft. “Of course I do”

And so, you both just lay there. The room was quiet, the only sound your breaths slowly syncing. The space between you felt right, like it had always belonged to both of you, and the warmth of his body next to yours felt oddly familiar. Like it had always been meant to be this way.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the rhythm of each other’s breath comforting. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to just be. Because you wasted way too much time already, and you won’t make the same mistake twice.

So, it was just you, and it was just him, and the world felt right again.

This was home.

Then, your phone’s alarm went off, pulling you back to reality with an almost comical jolt. You groaned softly, smiling faintly at the disruption. You climbed out of bed, the soft tug of the sheets falling off your body as you rose. “Come on” you said with a small smile. “We have to pick up our daughter.”

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Next on Tuesday's Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 10, aka the Epologue)

The building the dog was charging toward was a big, brick beauty, with towering windows and a brand-new sign hanging proudly above the door. It was the final product of an ongoing battle of bad brewery name ideas between you and Russell.

You’d pitched some real gems like Hop Notch Brewery, Sweet Foam Idaho, and Shawbusiness. You also reminded him of your previous, brilliant suggestions. You were obviously just having fun, knowing it was Russell’s dream project.

“I’m just trying to help!” you exclaimed playfully.

But still – Shawstopper was practically genius, right?

He, of course, was more into traditional names like Shaw & Co Brewery or Shawcraft.

But then… you pitched the one name that made him crack. One that he absolutely hated. Hated it so much that, for some bizarre reason, he thought it was twistedly brilliant. So, here you were, standing beneath the freshly hung sign above the front door of…

“Shawshank Brewdemption” Emma read out loud, brows furrowed. “I don’t understand!”

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They’re home. It feels so good to finally say that. I can’t wait to share the last chapter with you all soon.

And of course, happy holidays to everyone!

xx Pam

Read Chapter 10 here

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#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #russell shaw #tracker fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #russell shaw smut

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todofics · 3 months ago

Text

Off The Market | 3/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you?

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡ Author notes: Fair warning, but I did not bother to reread this before publishing - something possessed me, and I sat down and banged this out in one sitting. Yeah. Sorry for the delay, but I've been working 6 days a week to make up for the fact that it's flu season (health care is not for the weak). Hopefully, this is still understandable enough for you to enjoy!

♡ 2.5k /est. 15k words (chapter 3/6)

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡ MHA Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

Shoto left minutes after your agreement with hushed promises to see you later that night, your face only slightly warmer and his with a sly grin gracing his captivating features. God, you could stare at that smile for hours - wait. You shook your head rapidly, lightly slapping your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heart. Bad (Y/n)! This entire thing was supposed to renew the interest of others in you, not give you fluttery thoughts about your long-time friend.

Fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down, the sound of your mother clearing her throat caused you to jump in your seat; right, she was in the room. In the midst of these new bubbling feelings rising in your stomach, you’d just… forgotten. It wasn’t like you to be so ditsy, but you weren't entirely used to having a chaperone for you and Shoto. It may have been the norm to have a chaperone for young girls and their potential suitors, but the two of you never had that kind of relationship, and your parents trusted you enough to be alone (at least as long as you were out of the public’s eye).

Until now, you had never even thought of him in that manner. Sure, you knew he was attractive - everyone did, and it wasn’t like you were blind - but the thought of anything more than that just never crossed your mind. Although you had been childhood friends, your families were simply leagues apart: you, a lowly untitled noble, and him, a future Duke. That type of pairing was uncommon (if not nearly impossible) in society.

Nevertheless, you knew your mother would have dozens of questions about the seemingly out-of-nowhere courtship; not once since your debut had Shoto shown an ounce of interest in you (at least not in that way). Indeed, it didn’t look good to anyone that suddenly, with an arranged marriage on the horizon, he was showing up to your estate on the premise of being a “caller.” Your mother was old, but she wasn’t dumb; anyone with half a brain could see the potential scheme the two of you were whipping up. Even if she was becoming desperate for you to finally make a match, this was fishy at best. Hopefully, the two of you seemed interested enough to put those potential rumors at ease; after all, everyone longs for a love based upon the foundation of friendship. With a raised brow, she finally ushered you over, drinking her tea calmly as if today was just another day.

“Explain.”

You knew you could never lie to your mother, but you had to at least try. Continuing to fan yourself, the nervous sweat dripped down your forehead - was it hot in here, or was it just you? (It was just you; the full effect of the Summer heat had yet to hit, and the morning time was quite cool). “Explain what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to add to the picture of naivete.

She sighed, taking yet another sip of her tea; your mother, thankfully, was never the pushy type.

“I do not know what exactly the two of you are planning, but whatever it is, you need to be careful,” she urged, her tone serious as she looked at you suspiciously as if to gaze directly through you and into your mind. You gulped, flashing her a half-hearted grin in an attempt to reassure her. Typically, besides Shoto, your mother was your closest confidante, but perhaps it was best if she didn’t know about this. You already knew that if she did, she’d give you an earful and forbid you from seeing the boy (and that was a fate you’d rather not be forced into).

“I promise you, mama, we aren’t planning anything,” you swore, setting down the fan and opting to raise your hands defensively. She continued to give you that pointed look, only humming in acknowledgment at the promise after a moment of pause. She knew you better than that, but pushing was never the answer with you (she couldn’t change your mind once it was made up anyway).

You knew she meant well with her concern, but you were a grown woman - seriously, you had been out in society now for four whole years - and you could make your own decisions. You were more than capable of protecting yourself.

With one last look over, she sent you away, commenting that you were dressed far too casually for a calling with the future Duke and to dress better for the ball tonight. With a groan, you merely nodded, allowing yourself to be whisked away by a maid to be adequately showered and dressed; even if your mother was suspicious, she still found public opinion far too important (at least to your taste).

Later that evening, dressed to the nines in one of your best gowns and fanciest pastes, you stood with your back pressed to the wall again, swirling a glass of champagne around as you stared aimlessly at the crowd. Although you’d typically be talking with the girls, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to join the conversation tonight, instead choosing to listen to the bits and pieces of gossip they seemed to be so entranced by. This time, however, appeared to be a bit different; although you’d have to really be looking for it to be obvious, you could feel a few glances being cast upon you. It seemed rumors surrounding you were already being spread. None of the other girls seemed to notice the rhythm of the conversation continuing without a lull.

Although you weren’t quite sure what to expect from a “proper” courtship with Shoto (you hadn’t been seriously courted in years now - especially not from someone of high standing), you couldn’t help but look for the man in the crowd. Spotting him wasn’t difficult; his lean stature and peppermint hair made him stand out against just about anyone. It was still early into the ball, and he hadn’t quite made his way over yet, still greeting others of higher status as was expected. It wasn’t until about half an hour into the ball that he approached your little group as others in the area marveled at his presence. It wasn’t often that he found time to stop at the edges of the ballroom - especially not recently - as he was often stuck directly in the center with his family, growing increasingly acquainted with the duties that came with being a future Duke.

“I hope I’m not imposing,” he started, his gaze resting on you as the girls seemed to move to allow room for him. “I was just going to steal (Y/n) for a moment,” Shoto finished, offering his hand to you expectantly. It was well-known that the two of you were childhood friends, so the event didn’t seem to stick out too much to your friends. That, however, didn't stop their apparent excitement.

“Not at all,” Mina chirped happily, the rest of the group nodding along. “Feel free to take her!”

You offered him a weak smile, taking his hand as the girls seemed to giggle at the event (they never once believed you when you said you didn’t have feelings for him). “I hope your dance card isn’t full,” he mumbled, leading you to the center of the ballroom. Your eyes narrowed at the taller man; he definitely knew it wasn’t full. Was he daring to make a jest at you now after his promise? You hadn’t made an effort to dance in so long, nor had anyone made an effort to invite you. Maybe this was part of the reason why you had no prospects.

“It isn’t,” you confirmed, grasping onto his hand a little tighter as the crowd grew denser toward the center of the room. Even if you had longed for someone to finally look at you, this was a bit much. Being with Shoto, in the center of the ballroom, you could feel the piercing stares of everyone in the room; all eyes were on you.

To the strumming of orchestral instruments, Shoto wrapped his free hand around your waist, his other hand never releasing yours as he pulled you close - closer than you were ever accustomed to being. “I know,” he laughed teasingly, starting to sway rhythmically to the song in the background.

You puffed your cheeks out, pouting just a bit at him. Cute. “I knew it, you jerk,” you replied, following his lead; although you hadn’t danced in so long, the footwork was muscle memory. Maybe those dance lessons your mother forced on you weren’t so useless after all.

“Just teasing,” Shoto chuckled, flashing you that boyish grin that seemed to be reserved for just you (at least you hoped so; you never truly saw him smiling as often with anyone as he did with you). You scoffed, allowing yourself to be dipped by the taller man as you moved together in perfect harmony. It was as if you had done this dozens of times.

“And if anyone were to hear you?” you questioned, voice barely louder than the music. No one would hear, of course, but you still had to remind him that you were in public.

“They wont.”

The song came to an end, but Shoto didn’t seem to want to separate, his grip on you tightening as you attempted to step away. “You want this to look real?” he asked, voice hushed as he continued to pull you along as the next song started. If anyone wasn’t looking before, they sure as hell were now. Shoto hadn’t willingly danced for more than one song in ages. Even Shoto, forced by his family, had only danced once throughout the entirety of the last season (and even then, that was with Fuyumi). With this, Shoto was making his intentions loud and clear for anyone to see - you were his.

“People are staring,” you mumbled back, not doing much else to refuse. It was hard to refuse when he was looking at you like that. The intensity of his stare caused you to look downwards, focusing on the movement of your feet.

“Ignore them,” he said, momentarily releasing your hand to take your chin in hand as he directed your gaze back at him. He was quick to take your hand back into his, ignoring the way your (and many others) jaw dropped. “Just focus on me.” Rumors were definitely going to circulate after that.

Although you were usually nervous about being the center of attention, the people staring seemed to fade into the background as you became entranced by Shoto’s eyes; something about being close to him was just so… relaxing. You could easily forget about all of your worries this way.

Shoto seemed to relax as well, letting his guard down as the two of you danced around for many more songs despite the whispers; although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was most comfortable with you. Conversation with you was easy - simple. You didn’t flourish your words with the many niceties others in society seemed to; it was refreshing. In exchange for that bluntness, you got to see a side of Shoto he didn’t let others see - the teasing, fun, boyish side. People often forget that he, too, is a person - not just the future duke.

Throughout the various songs, your conversation with Shoto continued in that easy-going manner; you talked about everything and nothing at all. It had been so long since you had a chance to do this. To just… talk.

“I missed this,” he interjected during a lull in your conversation, his eyes looking at you with a sort of fondness you weren’t familiar with (or did he always look at you this way? You hadn’t noticed).

“What?” you asked, the aching of your feet starting to make itself known. You had to have been dancing with him for at least an hour now, and for someone who hadn’t danced in years, that in itself was a feat.

“Talking to you like this,” Shoto finished his musing, a more gentle smile replacing that usual stoic expression on his face. Although the two of you were close, the last season had done a number on your friendship; his father, especially, had pushed him to focus on the family business, seeing his friendship with you as trivial. As of late, it felt like you could count the number of times you’d had an actual conversation with Shoto on one hand.

You could feel that same fluttering feeling of butterflies starting again in your gut as your heart raced, “I missed it too.” God, he really knew how to make a girl’s heart race, didn’t he? A matching dumb grin colored your features.

“Hopefully, we can still talk like this after you find your future husband,” Shoto said, his expression almost wistful as he thought about the future. You were just such a good friend. Your smile immediately fell, reminding you what this plan was truly about.

“Right,” you mumbled, gaze leaving his as you finally broke away from his grip, turning immediately to leave. That was enough for the night. Stupid Shoto and his damn bluntness. Stupid Shoto and his inability to understand anyone’s feelings but his own. “It’s getting late, and I’m tired. It’s about time I retire.”

He nodded in understanding, "Let me walk you out." You shook your head, opting to not respond verbally for fear that your voice would waver. "Then I'll see you tomorrow," Shoto resolved, staring at your retreating figure.

Hopefully, you’d turned around in time to not let him see the beginning of tears pricking your eyes. Hopefully, you were able to mask the hurt in your voice as you bid him goodbye. Hopefully, he couldn’t sense your urgency to get outside that suffocating ballroom.

Fuck. You had feelings for Shoto. Real, concrete, romantic feelings.

Finishing out this deal would be more complicated than you thought. How could you possibly think you could avoid growing feelings for Shoto and his stupidly handsome face? For years, you knew Shoto had never intended to marry, so you had guarded your heart. You had been so careful. Now, here comes one little proposition, and you let your guard down. Stupid. This was so stupid. You were stupid.

Perhaps you should’ve set more ground rules and allowed for more distance between the two of you. It wasn’t like he was trying to make you fall for him. He was far too dense for that - far too dense to understand the effect that he had on people. He was clear from the beginning with you what he wanted, and it definitely wasn’t whatever this was. It wasn’t fair to him that you were upset at him over something he had no control over.

You willed yourself to walk at a normal speed, your pace only increasing once you reached the outdoors. As you continued to run into cover of the evening, you felt like you could finally breathe. Wiping your tears, you took a deep breath and stepped into the carriage. He didn’t deserve this.

So, you steeled your resolve. Feelings be damned, you’d go through with this plan if it was the last thing you’d do.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist: @niineau

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mistyresolve · 2 years ago

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| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

A/N - im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me

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The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound.

“When did this happen?”

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”

“Any meds?”

“Shot of adrenalin.”

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members.

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital.

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”.

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway.

That was where you were right now.

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast.

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him.

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm.

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.”

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?”

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.”

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings.

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation, “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave.

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been.

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname.

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.”

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown.

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you.

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest.

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.”

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?”

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you.

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in.

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed.

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.”

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe.

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.”

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission.

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him.

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say.

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price.

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.”

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him.

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious.

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble.

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something.

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream.

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters.

Only he didn’t.

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself.

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left.

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off.

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes.

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion.

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck.

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums.

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage.

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight.

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering.

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for.

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath.

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself.

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered.

“You’re fine,” he repeated.

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.”

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre.

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage.

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding.

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan.

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again.

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.”

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2

Masterlist ❤︎

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #MW2 #mw2 x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #soap mctavish #captain price #MistyGhosties

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pro-mammonologist · 1 year ago

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Mc in a Poly Relationship with Lucifer and Mammon!!!

- kings of possessiveness and jealously

- as long as they keep their sins in check it’s not overwhelming just a little annoying

- luckily, mammon loves and adores and admires Lucifer and Lucifer loves and adores and admires mammon, they’d much rather share their mc with each other than anyone else

- Lucifer wanted to split mc time in half during the week but since he wanted the 4th day, mammon was unbelievably pissed

- it actually took a third fourth fifth sixth party (diavolo, Asmo, Simeon, and Barbatos [who was going batshit]) to get Mammon and Lucifer straight

- now they let mc choose when they want them however mc often wants both of their attention at once

- mc usually lays on one of them facing up while the other lays on top of their chest and stomach. No blanket needed.

- Lucifer and Mammon actually get along better when dating mc at the same time because they’re constantly forced to confront each other

- mammon has less opportunities for mischief now poor baby

- sex was initially the easiest thing to deal with the both of them, they’ve shared partners in the past no biggie

- but what happens when the most sexually pent up stressed demon daddy and the horniest greediest most hyper demon daddy have to share one human? Yeah they learned a lot about human sexual health. No breeding for them.

- Lucifer and Mammon very very very rarely fuck mc together because they’re so different in the way that they fuck. (At least that’s what they think, just take away their personalities and boom same approach)

- Lucifer likes to have mc sleep in his room but mammon prefers it when he sleeps in mc’s but they all sleep in Lucifer’s together when mc wants it

- mammon was very distraught by Lucifer’s toy collection (he thought he was busy all the time)

- Lucifer was appalled by mammons (this is where all your Grimm goes?)

- mc enjoys both collections.

- both demons help each other with aftercare. Lucifer just finished an impact scene? Mammon drops off waters outside the door and runs a bath while they’re getting themselves straight. Mammon and Mc had some rough overstimulation? Lucifer has breathing practices and massage techniques listed out on a note he slipped under the door.

- Lucifer likes to tease mammon with photos of their outings but one thing he’s always sure to do is make sure his face isn’t in it no money for mammon

- mammon doesn’t tease Lucifer too much when it’s just him and Mc but he does send messages like “hey. Look at them. They’re so happy. I wanna squeeze em.” And Lucifer just sends a thumbs up like a dad would.

- Lucifer responds very differently to Mc, instead he sends entire paragraphs. “That food looks delicious. You look amazing, mammon should be grateful I’m allowing this. Next time I will go with you and I will do everything you’d like, so long as afterwards I can really taste what’s actually delicious.” He’s corny but it’s precious.

- mc lowkey has to schedule when they have sex because they really really both want it 24/7. Must record for them to watch when they’re extra desperate later on but mc isn’t feeling it.

- they’d never admit it but they love when they all get to sleep together

#obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #obey me nightbringer #lucifer x mc #lucifer smut #mammon smut #Lucifer fluff #mammon fluff #poly!mc

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lupin-et-rose · 2 months ago

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Delivery Service

Inspired by this prompt list

Dazai x Pregnant F!->Reader

Incomplete.

Warnings: Angst & Hurt/Comfort. Beware of mild curing, mentions of pregnancy, lactation, breast pumping, sexual organs, themes of bodily insecurities/dysmoprhia, maternal depression/mental health + Playing it fast and loose with maternity/paternity laws and practices.

Keywords/Kinks: 'Gentle & Commanding'

On a midday morning, you find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, gazing into the full-length mirror across the room and feeling strangely…distant. Sitting there in what used to be a loose T-shirt, smoothing your hand over the swollen curve of your stomach as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror, the room is empty, the house is empty, everything is quiet, and you are alone.

Every weekday morning has been like this. Only a few weeks into maternity leave, you already find yourself staring into the bedroom mirror every morning. After Dazai has bustled off to work for the morning and kissed you goodbye. After you’ve had the time to fully wake up and roll your pregnant self upright for the day - you catch your reflection in the full-length mirror, and it stops you in your tracks. Your hands wander over the swollen curve of what used to be a loose and oversized T-shirt. —You barely even recognise yourself anymore….

Staring back at you from that mirror is an almost foreign image. The girl looking back at you has grown. The soft, slender features that had graced her face have expanded a bit, her hips are wider, and the once flat stomach is almost entirely eclipsed by the swollen bump sitting there. That was you…but at the same time, it wasn’t.

You have to admit, the sight was almost surreal. It was hard not to stare at yourself in the mirror, watching the once familiar curves of your body disappear slowly into their soft, gravid shape. You’re so focused on the mirror that you almost don’t notice Dazai standing in the doorway, watching you with that usual soft, lovestruck look on his face. His voice, however, brings you out of your thoughts when he calls to you….

The sound of his voice startles you from your reverie. Sure, she'd sometimes daydreamed about her lover coming home early. But even in all her visions, picturing mirages of his love and comfort…he'd never indeed spoken. So, to hear his voice now-

But that doesn't make sense. He's supposed to be at work right now. The day would've just started, paperwork awaiting at everybody's desk, clients coming through the door. There was no way…The bed creaks beneath you as you crane your neck to see--oh my god, he's actually--

"You're here…"

He smiles in that slow, easy way of his, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes wander down your figure, taking in the subtle changes in your form since he was last in your presence. He makes no move to cross the space that separates you, choosing to watch you instead, taking in the sight of you as he replies.

“Of course I am, did you think I’d miss out on seeing a pretty sight like this?”

"I-I thought you'd already left for work-" Yuzuki glanced at the alarm clock on their bedside table. "It's already half-past ten--"

Dazai chuckles, stepping back from the doorway and entering your room, crossing the space in long strides before moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He reaches out to you, placing a hand on the curve of your stomach as he looks up at you, his smile still in place on his face as he gently rubs his hand back and forth, admiring the bump there.

“A few clients won’t kill me. Besides…”

He grins widely.

“I think I’d rather be here with you than out there.”

"Please tell me you at least cleared things with Fukuzawa before you left-" You scanned your lover's face. The last thing you wanted was for your beloved to risk his job or any good standing with your friends, all for the sake of impulsively playing hooky just to look after you.

Dazai keeps smiling, the hand on your stomach moving up to push a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately. He laughs at your question and shakes his head. Of course, he did - he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid.

“Of course, belladona. I told him I had a very important…responsibility~ that I needed to be here for…”

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss your belly gently. Then he looked back up at you. He was only partially sorry - he could never truly bring himself to feel too guilty for choosing to spend time with you.

You smiled and moved his hand to yours, intertwining your fingers. "Okay," you acquiesced, with just the slightest sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're here…"

Dazai squeezed your hand affectionately, moving over on the bed until he was sitting next to you and pulling you against his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close to him in a gentle embrace. He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you, still smiling, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against your side. You knew he liked to do little things like this, especially now that you were pregnant. He was always touching your stomach, or gently rubbing your sides, or resting his hands and head on it as he tried to sense for movement.

***

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #lupin et rose #lupin et rose writes #rosewolf #rosewolf writes

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nico-esoterica · 3 months ago

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You wanted to feel better so I made this for you ❤️‍🩹🩺❇️

From a mental health and survival pov, the best thing you can ever do is to say things are working in your favor or will.

You don't have to adopt any manifestation trend or technique which stresses you out or doesn't feel good. You don't have to do anything than change your perspective of what's happening around you.

Even if it's utter shit--You need to see them as changing. Even if one small thing wasn't as bad as yesterday or you at least woke up--that's something. You can have the worst week or month in the world but as long as you don't think against yourself, it's going to work out somehow. You don't need to be endlessly confident or positive. You just need to decide mentally that you're getting what you want no matter what. All hell can break loose and things can look devastating--but as long as you hold onto that, you WILL see your circumstances shift.

Take everything as a sign that things are getting better or are. Tenses don't matter.

Because we're not always feeling it. Many of us are neurodivergent and manifesting better living situations operating on zero sleep, food, stamina, and support. So holding onto faith sounds insane. However, if you've gone your entire life with that mindset, even if things got better yet you clung to negativity anyway, what have you got to lose? You've been betting against yourself your whole life. But that isn't your fault. No one believed in you or cared so you learned that faith wouldn't help you. We want to change things now. That's not always easy initially and may take a bit of time to accept. But as long as you don't commit to it not getting better, then it will. It already is.

Gratitude comes in great here. We can get so wrapped up in making things happen that we lose sight of the few good things that are working for us. That's an abundant mindset. That's being prosperous. You can still feel like you've got something going for you even when everything feels like it's going wrong. That perspective shift is going to give you a twinge of a good feeling once you cry it out, I promise. Breathe deeply through out the day and regulate your nervous system in the ways that feel natural and comfortable to you. You can acknowledge your emotions and observe your circumstances and get frustrated, depressed, etc, but still say, 'fuck it, we ball.'

Because there's a humor in it. Nothing can destroy you without your consent. And our circumstances look terrible but don't have to be. Buy that thing that's slightly over your budget. Cook yourself something small and nice that reminds you of the food you liked as a child, including nuggets. Eat cake and candy for breakfast while crying. Watch some cute animals like Moo Deng on video. I recommend creating a digital care package for your bad days and moments..even if they're constant. Make a folder on your phone, comp, tablet, etc, of everything that makes you genuinely happy. When things get dark or uncertain, I want you to look at that and feel everything you need to feel and let those emotions pass. We're strong but we're sensitive little creatures and taking care of ourselves should take the utmost priority.

As long as you don't change your mind, it's gonna have to come regardless. When you have that as a foundation, everything else just feels like a side quest/side plot that you'll feel more neutral towards. Circumstances won't seem so threatening. That perspective shift goes a long way and it helps your mental health like a cushion. Then that's when flickers of optimism spark and positivity will run like a current beneath everything. You don't have to be in a good mood or have a good day to manifest what you want. You just have to decide that you'll get it.

You will :)

#loa #manifestation #law of assumption #life coaching #gentle manifesting #tips

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questionableratatouille00 · 3 months ago

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ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader buys a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist]

𝑫𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚

The next morning, you’re back on the road once again. You’re in the passenger seat now, letting Bucky drive.

You snack on some granola bars that you’d packed, offering one to Bucky. He takes one, offering up a small ‘thanks’ in return.

Several hours later, you notice the small town slowly circling around the truck.

“Bucky. Can we stop?” You asked.

“We can make at least five more hours today.” His brows furrow.

“I haven’t pissed since yesterday. I’m gonna die.” You complained.

“There’s a gas station..30 minutes away. Can’t you wait?” He argues.

“No. Pull over.” You huffed. “Look! That diner right there. Debbie’s.* We can get lunch.”

“That’s gonna waste at least an hour. We don’t have time.” His grip tightens on the wheel.

“We’ve got like an extra two days! The drive isn’t that fucking far! Pull over before I piss my fucking pants, asshole!” You blow up at him. Tony intentionally planned it so that there was time for a little bit of dilly-dallying.

Begrudgingly, he turned into the diner parking lot. You zoomed out of the car and straight to the bathroom inside of the diner.

After taking care of your business, you met back up with Bucky in the line to the counter.

When it was your turn, you waited as Bucky ordered some burger before you ordered your own food.

Bucky reached for his wallet at the same time you reached for yours.

“I’ll get it,” you said.

“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” Bucky brushed you off. It made you..mad? He said it almost smugly, as if he was doing you such a favor.

“No, I’ll pay. I’ll do it.”

“I’m already doing it.” He snarked back.

You quickly tried to shove your card against the tappy-machine as Bucky scrambled to do the same. You engaged in a debit-card-sword-fight for several seconds before the lady behind the counter—an older woman, with short and thin gray hair and bright blue eyes, chuckled.

“You two make a mighty fine couple, I can tell.” Janet H. said, a fond smile on her face.

“We’re not together.” Bucky and you said sharply at the same time.

Distracted by this, you fumbled and Bucky won the war.

You walked towards a booth in the 50s-style diner, sliding into it and looking at the receipt. Order #157.

When the number was called by a slightly younger elderly woman, you took the initiative to walk back up to the counter.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the white bag.

“No problem. You here for the festival?” She asked, making small talk. Sharon C.

“Festival?” You echoed, curious.

“Yeah. The town’s got an annual Blast-from-the-Past festival thing. Always draws in plenty of tourists.” She slid a white half-sheet of paper with a little infographic on it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, looking down at it as you walked back to the booth.

If Bucky was curious about what the paper was, he didn’t voice it. You assumed that the Serum had probably boosted up his hearing, so maybe he already knew.

As Bucky unpacked the white, grease-stained paper bag of food, you scanned over the paper.

“Bucky. We should stay for this. This is pretty cool. It's like a 'this-town-through-the-decades' kind of thing. There's a 40's style dance thing tonight." You state, reading the first event listed. The festival is a week long, starting tonight, Monday, and ending on Sunday. “Look! Tomorrow is ‘30s-‘40s night. There’s a dance, and food, and all kinds of cool shit.” You grinned.

He stared at you like you had three—no, twelve—heads.

“We definitely don’t have time for that.” He grumbled as he munched on his burger.

“Bucky, we still have like, 5 or 6 days before we can even check into the resort thing. To get there is a 3-4 day drive. We’ve got plenty of time.”

As he shuffled awkwardly at the presentation of the facts, you could tell that time wasn’t the main reason he wanted to skip it.

“C’mon. Please.” You begged.

He stared at you, unsure.

You remained resilient.

“Fuck. Fine.” He broke, clearly unhappy about it.

“Yes!” You cheered. “I think we passed a store that was selling stuff for the festival. I’m sure they’ve got some themed outfits.” You raved.

“Okay. There’s the motel down the street, right? We could just get a room there.” He murmured. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Why not? It’s just a little dance.” You huffed.

"We're both Avengers. We could be recognized."

"So? Either way, we're in a tiny ass town in the middle of nowhere. If we were recognized, it wouldn't even matter."

He looked down at his gloved left hand. He always wore thick jackets or long-sleeved shirts, paired with gloves.

"Nobody's gonna care." You reassured quietly. It was true that the two of you didn't get along very well, but you didn't think it was fair to make personal attacks. You knew his arm, and basically his entire past, really, were sensitive topics.

“Okay.” He conceded. “C’mon. Let’s go get hotel rooms.”

You lift your suitcase and backpack out of the backseat, before heading into the lobby. Bucky follows as you approach the receptionist.

She's an older lady, some sections of her hair gray, other sections a warm brown. Her eyes match the brown, and she smiles when she sees the two of you walk in.

"Hello. Welcome to the Brandon Briar Hotel. How may I help you two today?" She asked, looking up at the two of you. She has wrinkles by the corners of her eyes, and smile lines around her mouth. Her voice is warm, as is everything about her. A quick glance to her nametag revealed that her name is Barbara C.

"We'd like two rooms, please." You smiled politely.

"Alright, and how long will the two of you be staying, dear?"

"Just for tonight, if that's okay."

"Wonderful. Is it okay if it's a connecting room? The festival always brings in a lot of tourists." She smiled proudly.

"Really?” You ask, making small talk. You feel a pang of joyful spite as you see Bucky shift awkwardly next to you. Socializing is not something he’s known for.

"Yes, Brandon Briar has it every year. Here's a flyer, if you're thinking about attending." She slipped a brightly colored flyer over the counter, sliding it in front of you. The main colors, yellow, blue, and white, were eye-catching and pretty. This one was much more in-depth than the flyer the girl at the diner had given you.

"Now, is the connecting room okay, sweetheart?" She asked again, though there was not a single note of annoyance in her voice.

"Oh--yes. That will be perfect." You glanced back up at her, eyebrows raised subconsciously.

You pay quickly for both of the rooms before Bucky--who had been standing behind you silently--could fight you on it. Barbara hands you the two key cards, and you hand Bucky one. Taking the flyer with you, you give Barbara one final 'thank you' and a smile, before heading to the elevator.

Bucky presses the button for the 2nd floor, where your rooms are. You study the flyer.

"Neither of us have anything to wear to it." He tries to reason as the elevator door opens.

Walking down the hallway, you continue to argue with him. "I'm sure there's at least one store that sells stuff specifically for the festival. Barbara--the receptionist--said that the festival brings in a bunch of tourists, so they have to have something around here." You said optimistically as you both opened the doors to your hotel rooms.

It had been easy to find a store selling dresses made to look like they were from the 1940's. The Brandon Center, the little store that could only be found in Brandon Briar, had an overwhelming amount of them. You'd left Bucky to find whatever he needed, you instead opting to browse through all the pretty dresses. There was a large selection, filled with pretty prints and colors.

Bucky, perhaps ten minutes ago, had interrupted your browsing to tell you that he was going to wait in the car. You had simply nodded, quickly glancing at the bag he carried.

A stunning red dress caught your eye. It had a little belt to go around your waist, with 3/4 satin-cuffed sleeves and a matching satin heart-shaped collar.

Sure, there were other dresses in a similar color, but once you saw this one, there was no going back. You checked the tag, making sure that it would fit.

Grinning once you saw that it did, you took the hanger off the rack before looking through the jewelry stand. When you found nothing that fit your style, you sighed.

Walking to the register, and you were greeted by a woman, probably in her sixties. Her hair was dyed blonde, which looked good with her blue eyes. She wore black eyeliner all the way around her eye, with thick mascara to match. She grinned, a heavy country accent coming in thick when she spoke. Though you'd only spoken to a few locals, they all seemed to have the same accent.

"Hiya! Will this be all for you today?" She had a nametag on her floral blouse. Brenda.

Nodding, you reply. "Yes."

"Okay. Oh..this is a pretty thing. You plannin' on comin' out by the old diner for the dance tonight?" She laid the dress out on the counter, examining it.

"Yeah. It's..it's in that little square, right? I saw the string lights this morning when I was driving by, but I didn't really have time to look."

"Yes, yes. The decorations are always gorgeous. Wait a minute..oh, this is from Mr. Lee." She said, beginning to fold the dress. When she noticed your confused expression, she grinned.

"A while back, we had a guy donate a bunch of old dresses like this after his wife passed. His wife was friends with that lady Peggy Carter, funnily enough. Anyway, we kept a bunch of those dresses in the back for a few years. Some were altered, made bigger or smaller or even just turned into somethin’ brand new. Forgot all about them. Until now, that is."

You nodded, though the mention of Steve's almost-kind-of-basically girlfriend startled you. A younger girl, maybe a college student, stepped out from the door next to the register. The creaky wooden floor announced the presence of another customer, as did the bell on the door.

"Aunt Brenda, can you help Ms. Owens? She wanted to look at that green dress I told you about." The girl said. Her hair was brown and straight, going down to her waist.

"Oh, yes." Brenda turned back to you. "Stacy will ring you up." She explained, placing the folded dress into a white paper shopping bag.

She walked out from behind the counter, Stacy taking her place.

"Sorry about that." The girl—Stacy—apologized. "That'll be $23.99. Hero's discount."

When she glanced up to you, she smiled a little. "Don't worry. You blend in a lot. Most of the people here are older, and anyone who isn't is just a young couple coming here for the festival. My great aunt and my grandma live up here, so I stay here every summer to help with the store." She assured.

Once you paid, she waved you goodbye as you walked out of the shop. Bucky was waiting in the driver's seat of the truck, scrolling on his phone.

"Y'know it starts at 6:00, right?" He asked when he heard the truck door open.

"It's 3:15, we'll be fine." You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt. You didn't say much on the drive to the hotel, instead thinking about what else you were going to wear.

Bucky stood inside of his hotel room, not sure what to do. You had decided to close your door to his room, and he decided to do the same. Just because your rooms were connected didn’t mean you would go into each other’s rooms. That was weird, right?

He showered quickly, before getting dressed. He felt stupid as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He knew how he was supposed to look, but none of this felt...right. He tied his hair into a low ponytail, just to keep it out of his face.

He opened his door to your room, just to be met with your door closed. He knew it was going to be closed. Of course it would be closed. There was no reason he should feel so...disappointed.

Disappointed? No. No. Bucky was sure of it. He barely tolerated you. You were annoying, and you liked starting fights for no reason. Ever since he’d arrived at the Avenger’s Compound, you were nothing but cold and nasty towards him. The first time he’d met you, you’d made an angry face at him before ignoring his existence.

But he couldn't deny the feeling of excitement he got when he saw your name light up on his phone.

Ready.

That was the entire text message. And somehow, a single word made his stomach feel light. Without typing a reply, he stepped into the hallway of the hotel, before he saw you.

A/n: my taglist doesn’t work for some reason??? I can’t tag more than a few people on a post before it just stops linking them. Let me know if it still tags you even without the link thing. Idk, it pisses me off sm. I hope this still gets the same reach??? 🧚

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky@mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv @mysticalfuncollectorus @highwaytomichelle @lilbloggs @ordelixx @skiemi-blog @allieb913 @winterslove1917

note that this is the only series I’ll be doing a taglist for, but let me know in the comments if you’d like to join!

Reblog if you enjoyed!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes series

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