#i ate some of it but barely and i feel sick like somehow so full now

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th 

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass. 

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs. 

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.” 

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles. 

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed. 

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.” 

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you. 

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him. 

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around.  “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze. 

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night. 

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back. 

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten. 

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you. 

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again. 

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung. 

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top. 

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him. 

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips. 

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him. 

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex. 

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural. 

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely. 

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend. 

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours. 

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words. 

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper. 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment. 

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further. 

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you. 

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body. 

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him. 

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently. 

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident. 

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly. 

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?” 

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod. 

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 1

WC: 1,4k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Early Pregnancy Symptoms, Fluff, Weight Talk, Brief Mentions of Vomiting

Soon after setting out for the second leg of the tour, Swiss starts feeling weird. His symptoms only make one thing come to mind, but, surely, he’s not pregnant… Right?

Notes: Here it is! Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss didn’t rest well between tour legs, he must admit.

There was a lot of things to do; helping Mountain in the greenhouses and gardens, catching up with Aether and Sunshine, taking care of all the gear. He could have planned it all better, because before he realized he was waking up at three in the morning to head to the airport again.

Still, it doesn’t explain the way he’s been feeling lately.

Maybe he’s getting old? Maybe it’s time for him to retire, too? It’s all so weird, Swiss starts to actually worry about his health, but as long as he’s having fun on stage every night he won’t mention it to anyone. Even Mountain—at least not directly.

“Mounty…” he asks, walking into the back lounge in the tour bus where Mountain is occupying a couch, and it breaks off into a yawn, “have I gained weight?”

“Hmm, maybe a little bit,” the earth ghoul admits after cocking his head to the side to assess. “Is that bad?”

“No, I don’t know, just–unusual on tour, no?” Swiss stretches and looks down at his stomach with furrowed brows. 

“Hm, yeah, usually we gain weight off tour and lose it on the road,” Mountain admits, waving his mate over to join him on the couch. Swiss is happy to oblige. “Still, I wouldn’t worry much about it. And you know I love your tummy.”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement and snuggles into Mountain’s chest the moment he lays down next to him. The fact that he definitely has gained weight and is actively gaining more and more isn’t as alarming as other…things.

Swiss has been feeling really fatigued, most of all. He’s not really tired—he can’t sleep when he tries and even if he manages a solid eight hours, he wakes up without improvement. It’s really annoying, if you ask him. Another thing that’s annoying is how his nipples started hurting. He loves having them played with, but—for some reason—they’ve been too sore to even touch for the past few days.

But the absolute worst are the mornings.

It’s hard to hide getting sick every other day from a bus full of demons, but somehow Swiss has been managing well enough. The first time he thought it was the croissant of a questionable freshness that he ate at the venue they played at the night before. The second time he thought it was a suspicious looking hotdog from a shady food truck. The third time–and so on, but then the multi ghoul realized he’s been sick more that single week than his entire life Topside.

“Sleepy, my heart?” Mountain asks and Swiss will not admit it snapped him out of an already half-asleep state.

“A little,” he mumbles. Like a liar—there’s a tiny wet spot on the earth ghoul’s collar from Swiss’ drool.

“Just a little?” Mountain teases with a small smile, not believing a word.

“Only a’little,” Swiss sighs and absolutely does not chirp in the sleepiest possible manner. His mate can barely keep himself from audibly cooing over him at that.

The earth ghoul starts a purr deep in his chest and holds Swiss just a little tighter against him, surrounding them in silence for a moment. When Mountain goes to move again and get them more comfortable on the not-so-comfortable sofa, a rumbly snore escapes Swiss.

“Only a little,” Mountain giggles quietly to himself. He picks his mate up and walks over to their bunk to lovingly shove him inside and climb after him. Swiss sleeps like a dead man so the earth ghoul doesn’t worry about waking him up as he adjusts his limbs to his liking and ends up spooning him.

It’s Mountain’s turn to hide his face in the crook of his mate’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent deeply. It’s ever sweeter than usual, the earth ghoul notes as he drifts off to sleep, too.

When he wakes up, his arms are empty.

Mountain is always groggy for the first…hour after waking, so he just grumbles something under his breath and falls out of the bunk to go hunting for his lost mate. His nose and instincts take him to the bathroom and he’s knocking on its thin doors before he realizes he’s leaning against it.

“Swiss? Y’alright?” he mumbles.

“Fuck–” Mountain hears his mate swearing quietly, “yeah, just had to piss, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Swiss doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, but the earth ghoul is way too sleepy to notice. He shrugs and gets back to their bunk on autopilot to wait for Swiss to return. He does, after a few moments, and tries his very best to seem just…fine.

He’s not.

Only one thing comes to Swiss’ mind when he puts all his symptoms together and considers the possibilities, but…it is not a possibility.

Is it?

Swiss’ ears perk up at the sound of the tour bus’ door opening and then shutting again. He sniffs the air and it confirms his suspicion—Mountain is back. The pack was craving pizza and he drew the shortest straw; he had to go out while it’s absolutely pouring rain.

The multi ghoul can hear Mountain all but dropping the stack of pizza boxes on the kitchenette counter and shaking the rainwater off of him like a dog—as he usually does. Swiss hopes no one’s in the striking distance.

He makes his way over from his bunk to the front of the bus with a grin and open arms, wanting a hug from Mountain as much as he wants that pizza he brought.

“Hi, darling!” the earth ghoul greets him when he sees him approaching. “Your favorite is on the top, help yourself.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Swiss sighs and hugs his mate with one arms; using the other to get to his pizza. Mountain laughs and helps him with the slightly stubborn box. Finally it opens; the multi ghoul rips away a slice and starts munching. He goes to sit on the couch and waits for his mate to join him as the rest of the ghouls filter in.

Mountain shucks off his wet pants and something falls from under his shirt.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he chuckles, walks over to Swiss and hands him the item. “Here, I saw it on my way back and thought you'd like it.”

It’s fluffy and black and white and–

“You…you got me a plushie?”

“That I did, do you like it?” Mountain sends him a sweet little smile. It’s a small panda bear, incredibly soft and absolutely adorable with its big eyes. Mountain watches as Swiss squeezes its body and notices just a bit too late that his bottom lip is wobbling and there’s tears in his eyes. “Hey, what–are you okay? Is there something wrong with it, do you not want it?”

“NO! No, it's–it’s good tears, I love it! I love it so much, thank y–you.”

“Oh, my heart,” Mountain sighs and brings an arm around the other to pull him into his chest. Truth be told he’s a little worried—while Swiss does cry from time to time, it’s not particularly often or over small things such as…a plushie—but he intends to blame it on his post-ritual exhaustion and whatever it is that’s been bugging him lately, “you're welcome.”

Swiss snuggles himself tightly into Mountain’s side and hides his face in the plushie. The earth ghoul looks down at him with his eyebrows furrowed and catches Dewdrop waving at him from the other side of the room.

“Is he good?” the fire ghoul mouths inaudibly and the rest of their pack have equally questioning looks on their faces.

“Not sure,” Mountain mouths back. He turns back to his mate as Swiss’ whole body begins to vibrate with the intensity of his purring. The earth ghoul leans down to whisper into his ear.

“Hey,” he pokes his nose, “I love you.”

Swiss can’t help but chirp happily before kicking the volume of his adorable purr up a notch. “I love you, too…”

He’s still hungry, though, so he goes back to devouring his pizza after a second. Mountain tries not to be offended by how the pizza makes Swiss’ purring stronger and louder than cuddling up to him.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox

[jargonbyjulia]

“It’s impossible!”

I’ve heard the saying, “Mums get no days off.” It’s true and it isn’t. I know a couple of mums that get plenty of days off, with health retreats throughout the year, child-free holidays, and so on. Sometimes days off seem IMPOSSIBLE. Even getting through some days seems impossible. I get a few hours to myself; I like to get my nails done, and tomorrow I have a first hair appointment in six months - shock horror!

I have a two and a five year old, and I work part time. On Thursdays I work at home, and I like to think of that as my day “off”. I work in peace, I play my own music, I answer only to the ding of Teams’ notifications, emails and my stomach rumbles. Today is Thursday, and I had my two year old home sick from daycare. It’s barely just winter, and we’ve been knocked out at least twice already. I did my best to keep her entertained while I caught up on the work I started Tuesday, where seven meetings had me pretty tied up. We were doing fine, and she was enjoying being home with me, watching Peppa Pig on repeat, and eating through the snack shelf of the pantry.

At 11:00am, my daughter’s school called asking if I could pick up my preppy as she had a headache, fever and sore tummy. So I alerted work, bundled up my toddler and ran to the rescue. She wasn’t well, at all. We made her warm and gave her medicine, and suddenly it was 11:30am, which means nap time for the little one. I quickly answered emails, started writing an article and reviewed some work. I made sure miss five was comfortable and then put miss two down for her nap. After that, I made a quick couple of sandwiches for us, and ate at my desk. While answering 785 questions, including “How do you spell chicken?” and “What is 78 plus 802?” (from my child, not a colleague), I worked through my list for the day, trying my hardest to focus on the tasks at hand. Suddenly it’s 1:45pm and my two year old is awake, and I break my focus. Now it’s time to prepare her food and get her playing happily with her sister. It’s much easier than I had thought, so I can get back to my work. By 3pm, she’s sitting on my lap tapping away at the keys on my computer, asking why I have a spare TV (my second computer monitor) and she just has a lousy plastic phone with dead batteries.

The dog is whining as he hasn’t had a walk all day. My husband left for work at 8:30am, and he won’t be back until we are asleep at 10pm. Miss five goes downhill as suddenly as Melbourne’s morning temperatures, and needs her fever brought down, so there’s no leaving the house. I’m starting to think getting through this day is impossible, but we push through with more snacks, YouTube kids and a cranked heater.

At 4:30pm I’m cooking lamb chops from Monday and drafting my weekly wrap-up for work.

My phone rings. My husband asks, “How was your day?” I sigh and say it was busy. I read some feedback about my work as the kids eat dinner in front of the fire I made by rubbing two sticks together because everyone is “SO COLD!” and I take a breath. Only a quick one though, as I need to run the bath for two girls who identify solely as mermaids and then hit send on one more message before the end of the working day. COB they call it; Close of Business. (Mums don’t really have a COB though, do they?!)

I haven’t had a shower all day, and it’s 6:20pm. My youngest just shut her head in the fridge trying to make imaginary apple pie for the dog, there’s a full basket of clean laundry waiting to be folded on the kitchen table and I think the wombok I was relying on to substitute as salad leaf for my dinner is growing babies. But gosh, somehow I feel accomplished. There’s ice cream on the couch slowly seeping into the earth under our home, the iPads are dead and I am tired, so tired. But I’ve nearly ticked everything off my work to-do list, and, apart from fridge-headgate, the girls are now content, warm, full, laughing, and nearly ready for bed.

Mums do get days off, but not me today. And that’s ok! We got through it. I’m forever grateful for an extremely supportive workplace who understand what people, and mums, go through on a daily basis. No one pressured me to hit unrealistic deadlines, and everyone understood what I was going through, or at least sympathised or empathised with me. And in the end, it just makes me want to work smarter, and harder. In all aspects of my life.

There will be a glass or four poured tonight, and I’d say they are well deserved. I’ve just realised baby mermaid is due for her antibiotics, so I’ll end with one of our favourite Peppa Pig quotes, “It’s impossible!”

But really Peppa, NOTHING is impossible.

[deluxewhump]

Carlo sickfic: Martin Olson AU

takes place a week or so after this incident in “im not yours”

CW: more Blake than Martin, fairly graphic emeto more than once, nausea, headache, fever, sickness, weakness, spoon feeding, pet whump mentions, comfort, two generations of carewhumpers here, past abuse mentions including spraying with cold water from a hose

Carlo didn’t want to be sick. He never wanted to be sick, of course. But he really didn’t want to be sick here.

He’d been sick like this once, but it was years ago and he came down with it in the warehouse. It had been freezing for a week and they’d sprayed him with a hose for fun every time he dozed off on a pallet. He remembered his hair freezing. He could crack strands of it like a stick with his fingers. It was a full day before he stopped falling asleep and started losing consciousness. Only then had Keith taken him inside to Erik, and lied by omission about the hose and cold water factoring into the state he was in.

He didn’t know what this was. A virus, something he ate. He just knew he was fine Wednesday evening and then woke up at midnight in a cold sweat. He vomited until he was shaking all over, doing nothing but gagging on stomach bile.

Martin found him that way in the morning. He’d cleaned up his face, given him some all-natural mouthwash to rinse out his sour tasting mouth. He smelled of sharp sweat and vomit, but Martin did not have time or patience to try and get him in a bath and he was grateful. The thought of hot water made him queasy and he was too exhausted to hold himself up to dry heave anymore.

Martin picked him up under the armpits and got him to a sitting position on the shelf of the tub.

“M’ sorry,” Carlo panted, dizzy. “I don’t know what….”

“You’re alright,” Martin assured him, pulling him up to standing. He was strong, like a man twenty years his junior. Carlo remembered the ease with which he’d wheeled him around, slammed him into the wall downstairs. His head had been tender for two days. He slumped against him and focused on keeping his legs strong, though they shook with the effort.

“You didn’t take anything, did you?”

“No,” Carlo shook his head miserably. “Nothing.”

“Let’s get you into bed, sweetheart. I have to be at the office today, I have a partner coming in from Houston. But I want you to answer when I call. Do you understand?”

Carlo nodded. They’d made their way to his room, peppered with his things now instead of hotel-bare. Martin set him gently on his back, picking up his ankles and swinging them up into bed. Carlo took a deep breath, his eyes already closing with exhaustion.

Martin lingered by the bed for a moment, and Carlo forced his eyes open to see his expression. It was gentle, the blue eyes which could be so icy were warm with concern. He sighed shakily and Martin touched his forehead. It seemed like a bad dream now that this same man had ever slammed him against the wall and grabbed him by the throat.

“I think you have a fever. I’m going to get you some medicine.”

Carlo dozed until he came back, two pink pills in hand. He brought a ginger ale and had even stuck a glass straw in the can. The glass straws made Carlo nervous. Like he was going to somehow break it and then drink the slivers, but Martin was not in the habit of keeping things like cheap plastic in his home.

Martin gave him a sip to swallow the pills and he drank gratefully, like a hummingbird right out of his hand.

“I’m going to call in a couple hours,” he said again. “Is your ringer on?”

It was all Carlo could do to pick up his phone and check. “No.” He switched it off silent with some effort and set it down on the nightstand. “Now it is.”

“Good boy. There’s a bowl by the bed if you feel sick again and don’t want to get up. I don’t want you lying on the tile all day in there. If you get worse, I’ll take you to my doctor.”

He didn’t like to think about feeling worse than this. Martin closed his door and he was pulled into sleep.

-

Blake Olson hung up his coat and toed off his shoes in his fathers new house, balancing a clear container of soup in the crook of one arm.

He’d been a little surprised at a text from his dad in the middle of the day, but it made sense once he read it. His beloved little borrowed housepet had seemingly come down with something, and he wanted Blake to swing by and check on him. And bring him something to eat. He at least did not insult him by venmoing 30 bucks to him first. That was something.

While Blake was not in the mood to do his father any favors, he didn’t mind this one. It was for the pet, anyway. Not his dad.

He knocked softly on the bedroom door, cracked it when there was no answer. Carlo was sleeping, mouth parted slightly, dark circles under his eyes. His lips looked dry.

Blake sat gently on the side of the bed. At least this wasn’t his childhood home downtown. It would be weird as hell if his dad took in Erik Holstrom’s pet and had him sleep in Blake’s childhood room.

This house was newer, sleeker, more efficient. It had white walls where his childhood room had been a buttery yellow. It was uptown, and there were trees outside the tall windows.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly.

Carlo’s eyelashes fluttered and he cracked his eyes open. For a moment nothing registered, and then he scrambled back as best he could lying down.

“Shhh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s okay, Carlo. It’s just me, it’s Blake. Hey.”

He relaxed a little, heart pounding under a thin grey tee shirt. He coughed weakly.

“My dad said you weren’t feeling good and he wanted me to swing by and check on you.” Blake placed the container on the nightstand, along with a plastic spoon wrapped in cellophane. “I brought you some soup if you can stomach it. It’s really good. The soup place.”

“Thank-,” the boy started, but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. He coughed again.

“Here,” Blake held a lukewarm can of gingerale to his lips and he sipped.

“Is that a glass fucking straw?”

Carlo laughed weakly, closing his eyes and lying his head back against the pillows.

Blake felt like he’d won something, getting a reaction out of this stoic little robot.

“Don’t take this wrong, but you look like shit.”

Carlo nodded and swallowed like it hurt.

“Is my dad taking good care of you?”

He nodded again without opening his eyes.

“Huh. It’s hard for me to picture, I guess. He can be such a prick. My mom always took care of me when I was sick. Have you met her?”

“No.”

“Figures. Well she would take really good care of you.”

“Me?” Carlo opened his eyes. “Her ex-husband's… pet?”

Blake huffed. “Yeah, even so. She’d look past that if you were all sick and pathetic looking like this. Again, no offense. Everyone looks pathetic when they’re sick, I’m not saying you are pathetic. I know you’re not. I can see that in the way you carry yourself. You know your place, but you also know your worth. I didn’t mean it when I called you a whore the other day. That was a jab at my dad, not you.”

Carlo held his gaze for a moment, surprised. He glanced away.

“Here,” Blake pulled open the lid of the soup. “Are you up to a bite? I was specifically asked to try to feed you.”

He sat up some, and seemed interested if totally weak and exhausted. He fumbled with the wrapping on the spoon a few times before Blake just took it from him and did it himself.

“Here, I got you.”

He didn’t think anything of helping until Carlo actually opened his mouth to accept a spoonful of broth. The strange intimacy of the act hit him sideways and he had to double down rather than make it weird.

“It’s good, right?”

Carlo swallowed painstakingly.

“So…” he was grasping at straws for something to say that didn’t bring attention to the fact he was spoon feeding his fathers pet in bed. “I heard there’s gonna be an appeal to that sentencing.”

Carlo shrugged. “So they say.”

“You must be pretty sick of all of it, huh? You want him in prison forever, or what?”

“No,” Carlo breathed, brows knitting in offense.

“You never know. I didn’t know if he was nice to you or not. You miss him then?”

He had overstepped. What else was new. The boy flinched and turned away from a spoonful of broth. His throat worked over some unwanted emotion and his eyes looked bright, like there might be the prick of tears behind them.

“You don’t gotta answer me,” he said by way of apology. He thought of how Todd acted with his pet, quick with a backhand and a harsh word. He took his own issues out on the poor thing. Even in moments where he hated his father, he was not so petty or immature as to take it out on an innocent. And that’s what Carlo was. Caught in the crossfire.

“I’m not spying for my dad, either, if you’re worried about that. I don’t know if you noticed - but we have our issues, me and the old man. So, anything between us is…” he gestured in a circle around them, like stirring a pot with his finger. “Just between you and me.”

“You’ve both been very…. generous,” he said softly, all pet-manners suddenly.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t wanna go home. I get that.”

Carlo turned his head towards the pillow, tearing up now against his will with nowhere to hide it.

Blake put the soup down. Getting laughter out of him had been pleasing, but tears were something else. It didn’t feel good, but it felt like something nonetheless. Sensitive little thing. Who knew what that Holstrom guy had done to him before he ever landed here with them.

“I’m sorry, Carlo. I’m making it worse.”

Carlo laughed wetly. He was getting very pale, Blake noticed. “No. I just… I don’t feel very good…is there a… a bowl by the…”

“Yep. Here. Here.” He pulled up the bowl his father left beside the bed. It reminded him of being six years old and sick, lying in the couch watching cartoons and holding a similar bowl in his arms.

Carlo retched into it, the broth he’d just been fed coming right back up. It sounded miserable. Blake let him finish and made sure he was done before setting the bowl back down.

Carlo was apologizing, lips wet and eyes hazy. Blake felt a twinge of sympathy that bordered affection.

“Shhhh. It’s okay. Your belly is not ready for food yet, I think is what that’s telling us. Here.”

He gave him a sip of ginger ale. “Just try to keep sipping so you don’t get too dehydrated.”

“Sorry,” he said again, wincing around a sip of fizzy soda.

“Stop it, it doesn’t bother me any. I was throwing up last Sunday because I drank too much tequila the night before. I looked way worse than you and it was my own damn fault. You’re good. I promise. I’m gonna leave you alone so you can sleep, ok? I’m gonna come check on you in about an hour.”

“You don’t have to spend your whole day here.”

“I got some stuff to do, it’s fine. I just need… hey, is my old laptop still here?”

“Oh… yeah. It’s on the dresser. I… I didn’t know it was yours and I…”

“It’s fine. Relax. You’re good.”

He stood from the bed, gathering the bowl from beside the bed and scooping his old laptop under his other arm. When he was a kid, the bowl always disappeared and reappeared minutes later smelling faintly of disinfectant. He thought of his mom cleaning it up, making him toasted cheese sandwiches with the crust cut off. He’d never emptied someone else’s fucking puke bucket, but he supposed he didn’t mind. The poor kid looked rough. He paused in the doorway.

“Get some sleep, ok? You’re safe here.”

[adzeisval]

I don't feel so good

Some Lucius whump today, warning for vomiting in this one. Also on AO3.

Lucius looked at the spread of food before him and couldn’t wait to dig in. They had raided quite the fancy ship and Roach had outdone himself with the feast. There was chicken and turkey, beef, at least three different kinds of fish, and so many side dishes the entire galley was full of food. 

And that was just the food. There were bottles of very good wine and a few different beers. Lucius was going to pace himself. 

The whole crew dug into to the feast and drink and it was the best time Lucius had had at sea for quite some time. Everyone else looked like they were having fun too. Even Izzy looked like he was having fun and he was actually eating some of the food for once. 

A few hours after the feast began Lucius started to feel a bit…odd. He felt far too warm, he hadn’t drank that much! His stomach was full but it also hurt and somehow felt…itchy?

“What’s wrong babe?” Pete asked. 

“I don’t feel so good,” Lucius said, “Too warm. I’m going to go up on deck for a bit.” The cool air felt good for a few moments but then his stomach started cramping and he felt like he might…

Lucius ran to the edge of the ship and vomited into the sea. When the second wave came he went to his knees. He didn’t know why the fuck he was puking so much. He’d barely had anything to drink! The food wasn’t bad; no one else was up there puking with him. 

His stomach cramped again and he heaved and nothing came up. Lucius moaned. How long was this going to last? What was this?

Lucius sat leaning against the railing and waited for the next bout of sickness to hit him. He heard someone coming and didn’t really want Pete to see him looking like shit. Oh fuck, it wasn’t Pete. It was Izzy. Of course it was Izzy. All the times Lucius had called him Izzy the spewer he was probably going to have so much fun gloating…

“It helps if you lay on your side and draw your knees up to your chest,” Izzy said. 

“What?” 

“Like this,” Izzy demonstrated. Lucius wans’t sure if Izzy was fucking with him but he decided to try it anyway. It didn’t stop the cramping but the next wave that came wasn’t quite as bad. 

“What is this?” 

“You probably ate something that doesn't agree with you,” Izzy said, “Now your body is trying to get rid of it.” 

“How long is this going to last?” 

“Hard to say.” 

“Am I dying?” 

Izzy scoffed, “No Lucius. I know this sucks but I’m not even worried enough to get Roach. I would get Roach if I thought you needed him. What you need is to get all of that out of you.” 

Lucius wanted to shoot back at Izzy that he had no idea what was going on but…was this what Izzy went through every time he had stomach issues? 

Lucius' stomach cramped and he moaned. He hoped it would all be over soon. 

“Can you tell Pete what’s going on?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Izzy said and left for a few minutes then came back, “Pete knows. He hopes you feel better soon. We all do.” 

“You can go back in,” Lucius said. 

“I’d rather make sure you’re alright. You might fall asleep and I wouldn’t want you to fall overboard. And I don’t think you want me to tie you to the deck.” 

Lucius stomach cramped and he dry heaved over the edge of the boat and wished he was dead. He would rather deal with ten million hangovers than this shit. And worst of all he wasn’t even sure what he had eaten that had done this. He was going to have to stick to foods he already knew or risk getting sick again. It fucking sucked. 

“Izzy?” 

“Hmm?”

“Is it like this for you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making fun of you, calling you names for this. It fucking sucks.” 

“It’s hard to know how much it sucks if you haven’ t had it happen to you before,” Izzy said. 

Lucius couldn’t believe he made fun of Izzy for this. Poor Izzy. Everybody made fun of him for it. Lucius wasn’t going to do it any more. 

Lucius’ stomach cramped and he dry heaved for what felt like forever. Izzy never left his side. He fell asleep at some point and woke up with Izzy even closer to make sure that he didn’t go over. Thankfully there was a small chance for that as the sea was calm. But it felt good to know that Izzy was there. His stomach still hurt and he didn’t want to move and somehow he fell asleep again. 

It was almost morning when he woke up again. Izzy was still there. Izzy had stayed with him the entire night. 

“You should try to drink some water,” Izzy said. 

“Oh god I don’t know…” 

“Stomach still hurting?”

“Yes.” 

“You still need to try a small sip. You need to drink,” Izzy said. 

Lucius didn’t want to at all but…he was rather thirsty. He took a small sip of water. It felt good. It was nice and cool as it went down his throat. It felt not so good as it hit his stomach. Lucius groaned. But somehow he managed to keep it down. Izzy gave him a sip of water every so often as long as it stayed down. 

“I think you’re through this,” Izzy said. 

“What happens next?” 

“You’ll probably have to eat simple plain foods for the rest of today at least. I’ll put you on light duties for the next few days,” Izzy said. 

“You never take light duty.” 

“I’m used to it,” Izzy said. 

“You shouldn’t have to. Again I’m sorry Izzy.” 

“It’s alright Lucius, and I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Izzy said. Izzy helped Lucius stand and Lucius felt a little wobbly but he desperately wanted to go to Pete. He turned to face Izzy. 

“Thank you Izzy.” 

“You’re welcome Lucius.”

[animeomegas]

MY BAD sorry, I was talking about this, it's a reblog because it's super old and I'm too lazy to find the og 😭😭 i think about it religiously btw

THE NOVELLA OMG IT SOUNDS GOOD I love vampires I want to know about it. are they both vampires or just one of them?? is it gonna be in the old times or modern? $? $? $ tell me everythingggggg. the historical one also sounds good!!! i love that type of novels, it makes me think about how it would have been to live in those times.

uni is very exhausting, so I completely understand 😭😭 I'm happy for you though!!! does first mean you were first on your class or...? I don't know much about foreign education help,,,, I'm sending you good vibes for the rest of your career

spending too much money at a different country is so valid though, they're full of things that sometimes you didn't even know existed 😴😴😴 it's good to know that you had fun!!!!!

Oh yeahhhh, I remember! I think Shikamaru might react similarly tbh. He would likely be violently ill, maybe a panic attack, and the next few weeks he would be very uneasy and both dedicated to making it up to his obsession and having mini panic attacks. He could even fall into a specific type of Nara depression.

And yes! My novella! Only the love interest is a vampire, but the MC, Ainsley, is a lecturer in supernatural studies at a university and they specialise in vampire studies. It's implied that they will be turned by Lysander (the vampire) at some point soon.

It's set in modern times where the supernatural is openly known to exist but the communities can still be small, especially vampires. There are also vampiric animals in the universe, and Lysander's mother owns a vampire cat. Feel free to ask more specific questions!

My other novel is much longer and a bigger project but I'm very excited about it. It's got a good mystery and it's the classic playboy x cold + traumatised person. But I've made the playboy as the MC and the cold person the male lead, so I've flipped the normal formula. Everyone is traumatised in that relationship, but they help each other grow and heal :D

A first is the highest degree classification possible in the uk. It's basically the highest grade boundary, which opens up more opportunities and job offers/discounted master's degrees etc.

And yeeeeaaaahhh, I brought so much more money than all my classmates because I knew I was going to blow it all on merch XD I barely ate any food because I was very sick, and I still somehow spent £550 in ten days 😅 I'll eventually post some pics of all the merch I got, I'm just being lazy about it haha.

Now I'll go to answer your other ask XD

<33333

@raincosm

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

what's wrong w me

[sirthisisa-wendys]

One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy. 

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works 

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch. 

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning. 

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes.  So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window. 

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle. 

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants. 

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more. 

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep. 

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do. 

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else. 

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften. 

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.” 

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?” 

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place. 

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones? 

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table. 

You’d had enough. 

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly. 

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence. 

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.” 

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.” 

“H-how…” 

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?” 

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know. 

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.” 

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.” 

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder. 

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice. 

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist. 

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales. 

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease. 

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock. 

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine. 

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.” 

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness. 

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance. 

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly. 

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.” 

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you. 

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing: 

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

[trashytummiez]

Story Prompt: Mina does the Coke and Mentos challenge and ends up with a bubbly belchy belly afterwards.

Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps fluff hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs

"Is it recording?" Mina asked in her casual wares standing in a field.

Kirishima gave a thumbs up from behind his phone whilst recording his girlfriend.

Mina grinned and waved back at the camera. "Hiiiii guys! Soooo we read your comments on the last challenge video and since so many of you requested it we're gonna tackle the coke and mentos challenge!" She held up a thick 2 liter bottle of diet coke with a pack of mentos. "Seems easy enough don'tcha think?"

"You got this dude!" Kirishima encouraged her from behind the camera.

"Let's find out!" Mina said excitedly then pouted at the camera. "If I get sick though I'm totally blaming this on Mineta. Don't act like you weren't one of the commentators you little purple creep!"

Her pout turned to an eager and confident grin.

"Anyway! Let's do this!"

She opened the mentos pack and popped a mentos into her mouth.

"Now I keep hearing mixed things that you're not supposed to chew them or anything right? So," she dipped her head back and swallowed the mentos whole which made a tiny lump emerge from the front of her pink neck until it sank down her gullet with a light squelch. Mina popped another mentos into her mouth and did the same thing of swallowing it whole. She did that for about five or six mentos then huffed softly. "Wow swallowing those whole doesn't feel the best," she complained rubbing her throat softly but that discomfort was short lived. "But that should make them more reactive so lets get this challenge started for reals!"

Now came the fun part.

Mina cracked open her 2 liter bottle of diet coke and lifted it up to her lips so she could begin chugging it down. She rested her eyes shut as she took in big thick gulps of soda. Her throat throbbed and rippled with the passage of fizzy diet sugar water flowing down her gullet all at once.

"Wow you're really guzzlin' that stuff down!" Kirishima exclaimed with an impressed whistle.

Mina continued chugging at an impressive rate. She got the soda down to its label in one go without stopping and Kirishima cheering her on for every second of her chugging.

Eventually she pulled the bottle away and panted so heavily that some soda dribbled from her mouth. In the midst of her panting she gave a short but foamy sounding burp. She covered her mouth after then immediately blew her hand back with a massive burp. That one belted out of her so hard that Kirishima would've sworn that even he could feel it.

The boy laughed heavily behind the camera. "Gahahahah! Dude nice! That was real manly!"

"Whew! Wow!" Mina exclaimed and patted her tummy in an impressed sort of way. "Ungh man that was so loud!"

"How're ya feelin' so far?" Kirishima asked.

Mina rubbed her stomach experimentally and pouted in contemplation. "Kinda full but..." she paused while she rubbed and gave a look of discomfort. Then she gripped her stomach a little more firmly and gave another powerful burp that left her panting and left Kirishima laughing. "Unf...'kay I'm definitely feelin' a lil bubbly," Mina admitted and rubbed her belly gently from side to side. Then she grinned again. "But nothin' I can't handle!"

So she went back to swigging her beverage down. Mina could always get a lot of liquids down since her body burned through whatever she ate slightly faster from the acid she secretes warming her body temperature up. The more soda filled her tummy up though the more the mentos began to react. By not chewing them up first those minty shells fizzed with the soda in her stomach and reacted much more violently than they otherwise would have. It was getting so bad that Kirishima could actually hear Mina's belly gurgling from where he was standing.

"Dude I think I can actually hear yer stomach gurglin'! This is pretty intense ain't it," Kirishima asked.

Mina nodded while she chugged her bottle down. One hand rested on her tummy and rubbed it softly up and down. It was beginning to look bloated from both the soda she's downed and all the bubbles filling her up. And the churning noises were only getting louder by the second.

She eventually had to pull away again and catch her breath. Only for a grizzly sounding burp to erupt out of her mouth with extreme force. Mina gasped when that one left her system then patted her belly and burped again. "Oooh dude I don't feel good," Mina complained and held her bloated tummy with both hands. She held a hand over her mouth and gave an incredibly thick closed mouth burp.

Kirishima frowned with concern for her girlfriend. "D'ya wanna stop? We can take a break or call it quits. I don't want'cha gettin' sick or anything."

But Mina shook her head. She opened her mouth to start speaking but ended up burping hard instead which made her cover her mouth. "Nuh uh. Plus ultra right? It's just some silly challenge. Nothing we can't-" Mina interrupted herself with a large burp then covered her mouth again. "...Unf...handle."

She brought the bottle stubbornly to her lips and was about to chug but had to stop and burp again. One thing was certain this challenge was making her incredibly gassy. But that didn't stop her.

Mina powered on through. She guzzled the drink down while the fizz in her belly intensified. Her stomach was expanding more from the carbonation and all the soda she was drinking to the point where her normally flat tummy was looking a little round behind her tight shirt.

She continued chugging with a fiery look of determination in her eyes.

Kirishima cheered her on inspired by that very determination. "You got this dude! What's a lil soda compared to a hero right?!"

...He got really inspired by her determination.

It was getting painful though. The churning bubbling in Mina's tummy was growing aggressive with a sickly acidity to it. It made her throat feel sour and raw with a light burning in her chest.

But still Mina chugged on without any signs of quitting.

Until she somehow managed to down every last drop of the bottle. After swallowing the rest down she flipped the bottle upside down and shook it to show not a drop fall out.

"Ha! Done...!" Mina panted confidently yet exhaustedly. Suddenly she dropped the bottle and her hands flew to her belly in time for the girl to unleash the single loudest and longest burp she'd ever uttered clocking in at ten seconds straight!

Kirishima fell in love with her all over again.

"...Dude. That was the manliest thing I've ever seen...!" he muttered in absolute awe.

Mina just gasped like she was out of breath then burped again.

"God I feel so bloated," Mina moaned and took a moment to massage her bloated tummy with both hands. But she managed a grin back at the camera. "Okay guys! Challenge beaten!" She paused to give a really deep closed mouth burp that rumbled heavily behind her lips. "Ungh...mostly. Anyway! If you have any other challenges you wanna see me or my boyfriend doing hit us up in the comments below! And as always th-aaAAAAAANKsss-for watching...!"

Kirishima snickered when Mina accidentally burped the word 'thanks' out but that seemed like as good a time as any to stop recording.

The second he did Kirishima put the phone in his pocket and helped Mina sit down on the grass so he could help her feel a little better. He very gently started to rub her tummy up and down while she leaned back and groaned.

"Ooooooh I don't feel good..." Mina groaned out. Her stomach gurgled thickly in agreement.

"I'll bet. That sounds gnarly..." Kirishima admitted. He gently rubbed over the rounded crest of Mina's stomach using the heel of his palm to knead into it as he rubbed. "Still. Ya did a real good job! That was so manly the way ya powered through yer own discomfort like that!"

Mina turned her head and held a fist against her mouth in time to let rip a big closed mouth burp that she could barely contain behind her lips. The sound rumbled in her mouth heavily for a few seconds and left her breezily blowing the gas off to the side. "Unnngh...urhp...I'd call it a draw really. The challenge is kinda kicking my butt right now..."

"Naw you got this," Kirishima encouraged her and kneaded an especially tense part of her belly. The burp that the pink girl released after that was so strong that even Kirishima could feel it reverberating in his own body.

"Ohhhh that felt good," Mina moaned palming the side of her tummy in a deeply satisfied way.

Kirishima grinned while he kneaded her belly some more to help work more gas out. "Hahah~ I love that."

"What me burping?"

"Naw! Like-well okay that's pretty awesome too-but like the way ya don't get all embarrassed by it even though we're out in public. It's so fearless and manly!"

Mina giggled and instantly regretted it when the giggles jiggled her tummy around and made her hiccup. She covered her mouth but managed a grin back at Kirishima. "Got a thing for tomboys do ya?"

The red-haired boy scratched his cheek and blushed lightly. "...Kinda."

"Well for the record I have a thing for manly boys like you. So..." Mina leaned over and kissed Kirishima's cheek making the boy blush even harder than he already was.

She grinned satisfied but her belly gave another painfully gaseous grumble that left her groaning with discomfort. "Ohhhh man that still feels rough..."

"Here lemme help," Kirishima said.

He eagerly kneaded into Mina's tummy sliding his hand under her shirt so he could knead his fingers directly against her soft pink stomach. His fingers were hardened ever so slightly by focusing his hardening quirk into them. Kirishima compressed them into the tightest part of Mina's belly hoping to unknot her stomach muscles.

But in the process of pressing into her belly like that he dislodged a sizable pressure pocket.

Mina lurched sharply when that happened and covered her mouth like she was about to be sick. Instead her hand was blown back as she let out a giant record breaking burp. It carried on for several seconds. Not as long as that ten second burp she gave when she finished the bottle but around there and arguably louder and gassier. In fact Kirishima could feel the gas exiting so hard from her stomach that he felt her flesh jiggle ever so slightly. The feeling had him blushing even harder.

When that enormous gas bubble had been dislodged from her tummy Mina gasped breathlessly like a weight had been lifted from her stomach. Then she slapped her belly with one hand and gave another huge burp. And with that came another long throaty burp. That massive displacement of air caused the rest of the air in her stomach to come rushing up.

After letting out one last especially lengthy burp Mina flopped backwards onto her back with her arms at her sides and sighed heavily.

"Hhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...ohhhhh that feels soooooooo much better..."

Kirishima grinned a big fang-filled grin and gave her a thumbs up. "Dude that was epic!"

Mina smiled heavenly back at Kirishima. "Couldn't have done it without my manly man's help."

At this rate Kirishima was blushing so hard that his face was matching his red hair after a while.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the bad things happen Bingo... burns for villain?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Thank you so much for the ask!

Quick warning that may need more context than a word or two. In this snippet, Villain saves a child and they are buried. Some may call this "minor whump", but the child is never hurt whatsoever.

I don't know if this exactly fits "burns" but I think it does.

Scathed Skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: explosion, burns from explosion, broken bones, starvation, fever, buried alive

*not edited*

~

Fourteen

Villain ran into the next room, greedily scanning the interior.

Thirteen.

He pushed away from the doorframe and sprinted into the next room, but that was also devoid of the assumed ticking.

Twelve.

Villain checked out the next room. A child, young in age and tiny in stature was cowering in a corner, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey," Villain soothed, bounding over to the child and picking her up. "I'll be okay, alright?"

"Where's my mommy?" The child cried. "I want my mommy."

"Yeah I know, I know," the villain whispered, rubbing the child's back and hoping that her mother was one of the people who managed to escape.

Eight.

Villain ran out of the room with the child. He couldn't disable the bomb now.

So he ran towards the exit, knowing he would have to jump and somehow break the child's fall.

Six.

The ticking started to get more consistent and more intense. Villain looked up, the exit was only five feet, four feet, three feet...

One.

Villain knelt to the ground, wrapping the child with his arms and legs- his whole body- as an earsplitting boomed sounded throughout his ears.

Pain ripped at his back and he fell forward, careful not to harm the child. She was hysterically screaming now.

Villain groaned as black spots danced at his vision, but those weren't his top concern. The ticking had returned, symbolizing another bomb threat.

Villain pushed himself to his feet, though stability abandoned him after one crisp second. He stumbled over to a wall and leaned against it, still holding the child and breathing heavily.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Villain's ears perked and he turned to exit the building, but found that the exit was decimated. He sighed and took off half-sprinting, half-limping, the other way as agony pierced every cell of his being.

He barely made it to the stairs before he collpased sideways, head banging against the floor, making a hollow thud sound. Stars illuminated the black dust in his vision, making him wince and grimace.

The feeling of wet slowly snapped him out of it. His eyesight somewhat cleared as he felt more in-tune with his limbs- or was it just adrenaline?

The child was crying into his shirt, hugging him madly. He grunted, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly, but that only made her wail harder.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. We are going to be alright, okay?" Villain whispered just as another explosion sent a wave of buzzing discomfort through his ears.

The floor beneath him rattled and creaked before it caved in. Villain and the child fell, but Villain was able to twist around and use his mutilated back to break the young girl's fall.

His body connected with the tile floor. He barely registered the whistle of a kettle before dirt and debris crumbled around him, and inevitable unconsciousness took hold.

He awoke sometime later on his side, cheek pressed into the floor. He groaned and winced in pain as the world flared up around him. Blinding lights shot at his eyeballs as rocks and glass bit into his back.

Villain floated around in that whirlpool of pain as his senses struggled to snap back into it. Memories dabbed at the bruises in his head gingerly.

There was an explosion, then pain, then nothing.

But that was only once sentence that was missing a lot of facts.

He started to become aware of another presence looming over him. It started with the faintest of breezes against his forehead, then a noise like a whimper.

The child.

Villain tried to blink away the haze in his vision, but it only made things even foggier and thick.

"Sir?" The child squeaked when she realized that Villain woke up. "Sir, where's my mommy?"

Her words went right over Villain's head; heck, he hardly came to the conclusion that someone was speaking.

His limited span of sight started to double, then triple as consciousness was snatched away again.

When Villain regained consciousness the second time, he found that he was much more aware of his surroundings.

They were trapped in a somewhat capacious room. Villain's leg was trapped under a wooden beam and was so painful that it had to be broken.

The child was drawing figures in the dust and dirt. Apart from a very dirty face, she didn't appear to be harmed.

But nonetheless, Villain asked out of courtesy, "You good, kid?"

The girl blinked a couple times before nodding. Gosh, she hardly looked ten.

Villain looked around. It seemed that they were trapped in some sort of kitchen. It was very tiny and by some miracle, the various blocks of plaster and heavy metal pipes didn't crush them.

But it did crush the only possible food supply, but the girl seemed to have grabbed a cereal box.

"Hey, give me that," Villain said, trying to pull himself close to the girl, but immediately scream in pain as he tugged at his leg. He collapsed fully on the ground, groaning and somewhat dazed.

The girl pushed the box towards him. It fell over and landed on his face. Villain shakily tipped it over and looked inside.

It was half full. Or empty, depending on how you looked at it.

"Is there anymore food in those cabinets?" Villain asked, nodded towards the dark colored cupboards.

The girl shook her head and pulled her legs in. Her dirty face was tearstained with crusty eyelashes. She had been crying while Villain was unconscious.

"Hey, we'll be okay," Villain soothed as he thrusted his hand into the box. "We are going to have to ration. Ten pieces twice a day, not that we can exactly tell the day."

That wouldn't be enough, but it would have to suffice.

"Okay," the girl squeaked, crawling over and picking out ten cheerios. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." She smiled and popped a couple into her mouth.

Villain dozed off a little after that, back and leg in scorching pain, not enabling a truly restful sleep. The girl also slept, or Villain thought, her back was turned towards him.

They somewhat bonded too. The girl started to talk about her barbie and My Little Pony roleplays and even asked Villain to join. He played along a little bit, awkwardly voicing Applejack, before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep mid-sentence.

He was getting sick and he knew it. The pair ate their alloted cereal in silence, both knowing that they would soon run out.

"I'm hungry," the girl complained one day- the first complaint in who know's how long.

Villain gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed half of his cheerios over. He wasn't that hungry anyways.

His head started to hurt as he felt fever set in. He couldn't sleep anymore other than periodic, short-lived black outs. But he always awoke more dizzy and tired than before.

Soon after, the fever started to worsen. He would thrash in his sleep and wake up more entangled than before. It hurt, everything hurt and there was no relief.

The girl was his only source of light. She would watch him with wide eyes, bright gaze never faltering. He would reach for her in half-consious states, desperate to know if she was okay.

He quit eating entirely, allowing the girl all the food, but still she ate her twenty pieces a day.

Once, Villain woke up so weak and exhausted that we couldn't even turn his head to look around. He groaned, staring at the floor with a dull gaze.

"Sir? Sir are you okay?" The girl asked, voice thick with sobs. "Are-are you dead?"

Villaim forced himself to peel up his eyes to look at her, but could only keep the look for so long before his eyelids drooped again.

The girl crawled over and picked Villain's head up an inch from the ground. Like a ragdoll, he allowed total and utter control of his head and neck.

"We'll be okay," Villain wheezed, closing his eyes as pressure built in between his eyebrows.

The girl dropped his head just as the fever pulled him under again.

The girl crawled back to her spot, laid down, and also took a nap.

Neither knew of the rescue team just feet above them.

[ejlovespie]

Hold Me Up

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader falls very ill when she unknowingly touches a cursed object. Luckily, Dean is there to care for her.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1966

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Fluff 

Reader’s Request: Can I pleaaase request a dean x reader one shot where the reader gets hit by a witch curse but none of them noticed, then during their way back she starts getting sick and by the time they arrive to the bunker she has a raging fever and it keeps getting high no matter what dean and Sam do. I looove when dean gets worried and when he cares too much. Also I live for angst so feel free to make it as angsty as u can.

A/N: I tweaked a few details but this wrote itself, thank you for the request anon; I really hope you like it! 💙 Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :) 

Driving down a long mountain road, you were headed back to the bunker after a difficult hunt in Colorado. Garth had called about a case where people were being burned alive in their homes. You, Sam, and Dean had found the cause was from a vengeful spirit who had happened to be a witch in life. Apparently, she had been killing the ancestors of a rival coven in order to get revenge when she and her people had all been rounded up and burned at the stake in the 1600’s. With no bones, this left you guys with the challenge of finding whatever was tying her to this world. It had taken longer than it should have but eventually you found the item; it was her old spell book. You were the one to salt and burn the thing. It had been small, fitting into the palm of your hand, but you remembered the weight it carried before you had tossed it into the flames. 

You had been feeling strange ever since. It was almost like just by touching the book, you had been physically affected by its power and it was making you sick. Your head was pounding and you were fighting back the nauseous feeling in your stomach. Dean would kill you if you threw up in the backseat of his baby. Deep down, you knew something was wrong but you told yourself you were just feeling sick from the drive through burger you had eaten earlier. You had food poisoning. It was no big deal. You slept, off and on, during the long car ride and somehow managed to not throw up. Now, you were finally pulling up to the bunker. You heard Dean mumble something in front of you that sounded like, “Home sweet home.” 

After Dean parked the car, you made the move to open your door but you kind of just slammed into it without properly pushing it open. Vertigo made your head and stomach swim and you rested your cheek on the cool window’s glass for a moment, breathing deeply. Dean had witnessed your attempt to get out and had come around to the other side of the car to open the door you weren’t currently laying on. Knowing something was wrong, he half climbed inside to unbuckle your seatbelt and pulled you to him. You flinched when a cool hand felt your forehead then moved to feel your cheeks. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see Dean’s handsome face full of worry. His green and gold eyes were concerned, looking you over, while he continued to move his hands. He pushed a few damp strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheeks again. 

“You’re burning up Y/N.” 

You could see Sam standing outside of the car, observing what was happening and you blushed a little. You brought your hands up to Dean’s larger ones on your face and pulled them away. 

“I’m fine Dean. I think the burger I ate was bad, that’s all.” 

To prove a point, you had turned back around and swung the door open but the motion was too fast and you toppled out of the car in a mess of limbs. You groaned when you hit your head on something and Dean swore behind you. A second later, Sam was helping you up and asking if you were alright. Before you could assure him that you were fine, your legs gave out and Dean was there, swinging you up into his strong arms. The movement had the vertigo coming back and you shut your eyes tightly and buried your face in Dean’s neck as he hurriedly carried you inside. You heard him telling Sam to go get the med kit before he brought you into your room and laid you down on your bed. Opening your eyes was a mistake. The room spun around you and shut them tightly again before the spinning made you puke. Oh God, you thought to yourself. Please don’t let me throw up in front of Dean Winchester.    

You turned over on your side, away from Dean, just in case you lost your cookies. The spinning sensation was so strong, you groaned in pain and kept praying. Dean was sitting on the bed, running his hands over you, looking for some kind of evidence of the cause of your illness. He yelled at Sam to hurry when your breathing became more labored. Pointing to the trash can in the corner, you hoped Dean would understand. He jumped up quickly and brought it to you right before you started heaving. Sam was rounding the bed now, holding a large white case. He sat it down and started refilling through it. Breathe through it. Do NOT puke in front of both of these guys. Finally, the spinning had slowed down and you were able to calm your breathing a bit. Dean had his hands on your face again and was telling Sam to get the thermometer. A second later, he was shoving the tip into your mouth and telling Sam to go get towels while he waited for the reading. You tried pushing his hands away, to tell them you were fine but you felt so damn weak.

The thermometer beeped and you saw Dean’s eyes go wide when he read it. At some point you had started to shiver and Dean was now murmuring to you, telling you he was going to help you, while rubbing your back. Sam rushed in with towels and Dean put one on your forehead while he put another on your chest. Your teeth were chattering and it sounded so loud to your own ears. Was it loud to Dean too? Dean barked at Sam a few more times while he tried getting you to drink water, most of it dribbling down your chin. You had a hard time focusing on Dean and what he was telling Sam. 

“She has a fever of 101 Sam. This sure as shit wasn’t caused by a burger. Can you hit the lore? I’m going to stay here and try to get it down.” 

"Maybe we should take her to the hospital Dean." 

Dean was opening a bottle and shaking a few pills into his palm. You complained a little when he reached over to bring them to your lips and then made you take a sip of water. You were so cold. You just wanted to curl into your blankets and go to sleep. Noticing your shivering, Dean took a minute to pull a blanket over you before he stood up and walked out of the room with Sam. You were so delirious it could have been a few minutes or a few hours but Dean came back into the room and sat on your bed again. You didn’t complain when he popped the thermometer back into your mouth. When the thermometer pinged again and Dean read your temperature, he cursed and started peeling the blanket off you. He jumped off the bed and was out of the room so fast your foggy brain couldn’t keep up with him. He was back in the room in a minute and bending to pick you up. You groaned and complained but he wasn’t listening to you. You were being carried again but this time he was rushing you to the bathroom. 

The shower was running. Why was the shower running? Did you smell? You were pretty sure you hadn’t puked on yourself. Dean sat you on the toilet and was standing in front of you, peeling his clothes off. Wait, what? You questioned him groggily but he ignored you until he was stripped down to his boxer briefs. Turning to face you, he grimaced before saying, 

“Your turn. I’m sorry for this sweetheart.” 

Dean’s hands reached out, his fingers grazing your abdomen as he pulled your shirt above your head. You shrieked and pushed at his hands, confused about what was happening and somehow still feeling self-conscious in this moment. Gripping you around the waist, Dean stood you up and started unbuttoning your jeans. Your legs were so weak, you had to lean on him as he pulled your jeans down your legs before ripping them off completely. You were now left in your bra and panties and you felt so exposed but Dean was barely looking at you. He was laser focused and pulling you into the shower. If you were at full mental capacity you probably would have realized what was happening but as it was, you were shocked when the freezing spray of water touched you. You screamed and tried, weakly, to fight Dean, to get out. Gritting his teeth, he just wrapped you into his arms and stepped fully into the shower. Your teeth were chattering violently and goosebumps appeared on your skin. HIding your face in Dean’s chest, you let him hold you up as you shivered violently from the cold. 

You both stood like for a while until your entire body was numb from the cold. After what seemed like an eternity, Dean reached over to turn off the water and pulled you with him out of the shower. He wrapped you up in a towel before slipping one of his shirts over your head and carried you back to your bed. He wrapped you back up in your blankets before stepping out of the room for a minute. When he came back, he was once again fully dressed. Dean brought a glass of water to your lips and made you drink half of it before he set the glass down and felt your forehead. Suddenly, Sam was stepping into the room again with a book. He started talking at a fast pace.  

“I think Y/N’s illness was caused by her touching the spell book. I found some lore here that some witches would put curses on their spell books to keep people from being able to use them. If Y/N had read anything inside the book, she could have died. The lore says some cursed books can be so dangerous that just touching one can cause ‘disease to the bearer’.”

That didn’t sound good. In an impatient voice, Dean asked, ”I suspected as much. How do we fix it though?” You had started to lose focus again, fatigue was pulling you under as Sam explained the details to a cleansing ritual. 

-

The next time you woke, you were surprised to find Dean sleeping next to you in bed, his large arm draped over your body. You had a slight headache and a hungry stomach but the aching fever was gone. You felt completely fine. Did they do the cleansing ritual or whatever? You gazed at Dean and his peacefully sleeping face and blushed remembering the events from the day before. Other than not puking, you had made a fool of yourself. Embarrassment heated your cheeks as you thought about falling out of the impala and being stripped down to take a cold shower. Dean had seen you in your underwear. You groaned and Dean stirred in his sleep before opening his eyes groggily. Looking up at you he smiled and asked you in a sleepy voice,

“How are you feeling sweetheart?”

“Much better...Uh thank you for taking care of me Dean. I didn’t know you could be so attentive and...motherly.” You giggled as Dean groaned and smacked you with a pillow at the last part of your statement. “Seriously. You’re good? No fever. No puking or anything?” Nodding, you leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek. “I'm good. Thank you. You guys will have to fill me in on what happened but for now, I am going to go make us some breakfast.” Dean smiled and whispered, “Anytime Y/E. I’m just glad you're okay.”

His eyes were soft looking at you and you blushed before climbing out of bed. You blushed harder when you realized you weren't wearing pants and Dean laughed as you darted to your closet to find some. In a hurry, you got dressed and rushed out of your room, not missing Dean's teasing wink before you went.

Tags:

@akshi8278

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Unjust

Prompts: Prompt for ya if u like! Ur so talented, big fan of your stories!-->>> Arthur is forced to come to grips with how little Merlin's life matters to society when Uther refuses to even discipline the nobles who beat him, dismissing Arthur with the words that will change how he sees the world forever; "Stop being so dramatic, he's only a servant. I'll get you a new one." - anon

The last fic you just wrote with h/c and merlin's duties as a servant WAS SO GOOD AND SO PAINFUL. Could we get a sequel? Maybe the knights trying to deal with the aftermath or the first time it happens again and Merlin trying to figure out what's something he's supposed to tell Arthur about v. actually his job? I don't know - anon

Ah yes more of these bois always

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: implied/referenced abuse, uther is an absolute gobshite, merlin gets hurt quite bad

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2624

Arthur thought it couldn’t get worse.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin looking at all of them with a completely serene expression on his face and telling them he’s been abused since the second he set foot in Camelot. That he could look at all of them and be absolutely sincere, calm, almost resigned about the torment he’s been put through.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin being confused when all of the knights immediately protested, that yes, Merlin, this is systematic abuse, that has been allowed to pass unseen for too long, that there are no consequences for things like this but damnit there should be. That Merlin, somehow, knew that this was wrong but didn’t call it abuse.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin looking at him, right at him, and telling him that Arthur has abused him, since day one, and that he doesn’t feel it’s his place to stop him. That Arthur has been complicit and has helped people abuse him because he thought Arthur didn’t care enough to help him realize that it was wrong.

No, Arthur thought they were past the worst of it.

Now Arthur tells Merlin bluntly that he’s not supposed to be the servant to any visiting knight. He’s supposed to walk them to their chambers and leave, right then. There will be other servants who will help them get settled the rest of the way. One will see to the bed. One will see to the food. One will see to the armor if, and only if, it is requested. Merlin will not spend a second more around the knights than he has to.

Merlin looks a little afraid when he tells him that and Arthur can’t stop himself from taking the man into his arms and asking him what’s the matter.

“They’ll be angry,” he mutters, studiously avoiding Arthur’s gaze, “they’ll be angry I’m not staying.”

“Then they can come and talk to me.” Arthur brushes Merlin’s hair out of his face. “But they don’t get to harm you.”

Leon enforces it the first time a knight decides no, he’s going to get upset when Merlin leaves. Leon’s temper does not flare often, nor does it flare particularly high, but he’ll never forget the way Merlin rushes to his side and tells him he swears Leon’s eyes flashed red for a second. Leon tells him later that he…persuaded the knight to be grateful that there were servants here to help him at all.

He makes sure to be nearby the next time, just to see Leon slam the knight against the wall.

Leon bustles Merlin down to the armory, passing it off as the need to clean the weapons, when Arthur knows full well it’s an excuse to hoard Merlin to themselves and keep him safe.

Sometimes Elyan takes it a step further, comes between whatever knight thinks it’s a good idea to accost Merlin in the armory and tells them back off. He makes a show of Merlin knowing exactly where all the weapons are and exactly how often one of them will come down to find him. Merlin returns to Arthur’s chambers after the first time with a soft ‘you’d really come look for me?’ Arthur doesn’t quite cuddle him to sleep that night but they don’t move from the hug for a while.

Percival, of course, turns the protective hug into an art form. The man is huge, certainly much larger than the average knight, and watching him glare at someone over Merlin’s shoulders is quickly turning into one of Arthur’s favorite past times. He’s no stranger to the way Merlin will sometimes scoot closer to someone when he’s feeling overwhelmed, but it’s something else to see Percival almost mold into shape when Merlin’s by his side. A soft word in Percival’s ear and you couldn’t drag him away.

Lancelot is never far from Merlin’s side. Merlin jokes one day that he and Arthur have some sort of alliance or pact; one of them is never allowed to be further than a few paces away from him if the other isn’t around.

“That’s not true, Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, nudging his knee with his foot, “the two of us don’t have that pact.”

No, Arthur smiles privately to himself, the six of us have that pact.

And sometimes Merlin can’t come to Arthur. That knowledge still burns when he remembers it, but it makes sense. Arthur holds a position of power. Arthur has—whether he feels sick with regret or not—contributed to Merlin’s abuse. Arthur is not always there for Merlin the way he needs to be. But Lancelot is.

And when Lancelot isn’t, Merlin always has Gwaine.

Arthur is not too proud to admit that he and Gwaine butt heads more often than they don’t, certainly when it comes to Merlin. But where Merlin’s safety and comfort is concerned, they never fight. It is Merlin who dictates where he feels the safest, whose side he wants to stay at for a while. It is Merlin who decides where he will run when he’s upset. They never fight about it. It’s always concern—what can they do to help? When was the last time he ate? Does he want to talk about what happened? Merlin notices it the first time Arthur accidentally walks in on him lying in Gwaine’s arms and there’s nary a barb tossed between them before Arthur is softly asking if he’s allowed to stay too and Gwaine tucking him into the embrace alongside them.

“Did you two finally learn how to get along?”

“Only for you, Merlin,” Gwaine says quietly, “only for you.”

And yes, there are absolutely nights where Merlin shakes more than he usually does or one of the visiting knights makes the mistake of cuffing him where they can see and they all end up piled into Arthur’s chambers. After the knight’s been humiliated on the training field by every single one of them and blacklisted from any future tournaments.

Merlin doesn’t always ask for them, but when he does, everyone drops everything. That’s the unspoken agreement. Merlin so much as sniffles and their afternoon plans are dust. Arthur will never forget the day Percival swept into his chambers with Merlin in his arms, the other knights in a guard of honor as Merlin threw his arms around Arthur’s neck.

“Shh, shh,” Arthur murmurs, lowering them to the ground as Leon tells the guards to leave them be, “you’re safe, I won’t hurt you, you’re alright.”

That’s a promise.

So yes, Arthur thought it couldn’t get worse.

As always, leave it to his father to make everything worse.

Merlin is missing. Arthur strides out of his chambers before the guards even realize the doors have been thrown open. Merlin is missing and that’s all that matters. His armor clanks loudly in the hallway and the other people jump to the side to get out of his way.

Good.

He knocks on the door of Gaius’s chambers. Gaius looks at him like he’s just grown another head. It doesn’t matter. Where is Merlin?

“I thought he was with you, sire.”

Merlin is missing. He leaves with strict instructions to find him whenever Merlin turns up. He stalks to the armory and runs into Elyan and Percival. Where is Merlin?

“Haven’t seen him,” Elyan mutters, already rushing off, “I’ll ask Gwen.”

Percival falls into step behind him as they hustle down the corridor. Leon comes out of one of the halls and immediately assumes a position on Arthur’s left.

“What is it, sire?”

“Where is Merlin?”

Leon doesn’t say another word. If all the guards decide to flatten themselves against the wall as the three of them go by, that’s their business.

They find Gwaine muttering curses as he storms toward the tournament grounds.

“Where is Merlin?”

“If the way Godefroy was looking at him is any indication—“ and they’re already seeing red— “then we need to move.”

No need to tell them twice.

Arthur leads the charge down to the door. He throws it open and all the training knights freeze. He glares around at them, looking for Merlin, Merlin, you’re not Merlin.

“Godefroy,” comes Leon’s clipped voice, “where?”

“This way.” They turn to see Lancelot stalking toward the training ground, the other recruits parting like smoke as they storm forward.

Arthur feels it before he hears it.

Smack!

The other knights are caught in the maze of weapon racks as Arthur darts through the armory.

“Stupid, worthless boy, needs to be taught a lesson.”

Smack!

The wounded yelp makes him push faster. He rounds the corner and—

Godefroy. On top of Merlin. His hand raises to smack him again. Merlin on his back. Hands up. Defending but not defending enough.

His teeth are not bared.

His expression is resigned.

He does not spit in the knight’s face.

The knight moves to strike him again.

Not on my goddamn watch.

“Get your hands off him,” Arthur snarls, the blade singing as he pulls it from the scabbard, “get your hands off him!”

Godefroy looks up. “He’s just a servant, he needs to be disciplined properly.”

“You must not have heard me—“ why is he still too far away?— “I told you to get off of him.”

Godefroy rolls his eyes but complies, because Arthur is the prince and his word is law but that doesn’t mean the knight has to agree.

Merlin doesn’t move.

Arthur snarls again, readying his sword for an attack only for Godefroy to stand there, not readying himself for the blow.

“How dare you strike him,” he spits, “how dare you raise a hand to him.”

Godefroy says nothing.

“Are you too much of a coward to defend yourself?” Arthur hefts the sword. “Are you?”

“Arthur,” comes a steel voice from the other end of the hall, “what is the meaning of this?”

He turns.

Uther strides toward him, looking down his nose the way Arthur looks at the muck on his boots. “Surely you have some explanation for your behavior.”

“He hurt Merlin,” Arthur growls, gesturing at—oh, Merlin, why are you still on the floor?

Uther scoffs. “I understand being possessive of your property, but really, Arthur, there’s no need for such childish behavior.”

“Childish—Father, he hurt him.”

“So?”

So?

So?

Fucking so?

“He’s just a servant,” Uther says, waving a dismissive hand, “stop being so dramatic. I’ll get you another one if Godefroy breaks him.”

Godefroy steps around Arthur, looking far too smug, and leaves.

Arthur stands there, panting, as his chest roils with anger too deeply buried to come out as anything other than agony.

This. This is why Merlin didn’t believe him.

Distantly, he hears the other knights rushing down the corridor and he turns, sheathing the sword and crouching, all but ripping off his rough gloves to cradle Merlin’s head in his hands.

“Merlin,” he calls softly, “Merlin, can you hear me?”

Merlin nods, his eyes still a little dazed.

“Good. Try and sit up. Lean on me if you need to.”

By the time Lancelot rushes forward to fall to his knees beside them, Merlin is propped up against Arthur’s shoulder, his head far too red for his liking. Gwaine mutters another curse as the knights spill protectively into the hall.

“Merlin,” Lancelot calls, “Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he corrects, taking Merlin’s hand, “it’s really not.”

“It’s better me than someone else.”

Arthur buries his head in Merlin’s neck. Because Merlin’s right.

How many other servants have had to go through this? How many people has the mighty wheel of Uther Pendragon crushed underneath its weight? How many times has he turned the corner into a hallway where someone was beaten just for being a servant?

Merlin has him. Merlin has the knights. Merlin has Gaius. Merlin will be protected because they know about Merlin.

Who don’t they know about?

“This stops,” he grits out, “right now.”

“You can’t stop everyone,” Merlin mumbles, still slumped against Arthur, “you can’t, Arthur.”

“I’m the Crown Prince of Camelot,” Arthur says, holding Merlin tightly, “if I decide that there need to be consequences for actions, there will damn well be consequences.”

There are.

Merlin is shuttled back to his chambers with Lancelot and Elyan. Gwaine and Percival return to the training grounds with twin looks of determination. Arthur and Leon go straight to the steward.

The steward blinks up at them, clearly taken aback by the question. “I’m terribly sorry, sire, would you mind asking one more time?”

“The servants,” Arthur says, “how many of them are mistreated? How are they mistreated? I want to know.”

“Well, sire…all of them.” The steward fiddles with a stack of paper, moving it aside so he can lean on his elbows. “They do not have…there is not the power to protect them the way there is to protect you or the knights.”

“And how do we give them that power?”

“Come again, sire?”

“They are people,” Arthur says firmly, Leon’s unwavering presence at his side, “they are people and they should be treated as such. How do we ensure that happens?”

“W-well, sire,” the steward says slowly, “any large reforms would need the consent of the King. But there are…there are smaller ways that we can arrange for their treatment to…improve.”

“Such as?”

The steward looks at him strangely. “Forgive me, sire, but…I did not expect this behavior from you.”

Arthur shifts in the chair. “Perhaps I’ve been refusing to look for too long.”

“It is an admirable shift, sire.”

“It’s common decency. Now what do we do?”

Some knights start finding it hard to run into servants in the hallways. Some knights don’t receive chambers with proper insulation. Some knights are beaten down on the training ground over and over. Some knights find it impossible to stay.

Some knights figure out what’s going on quickly. Some knights have kind words and soft questions and thank-yous. Some knights start to push back when they see another knight be too brash, too rough, too callous.

Some knights get it. Some knights don’t.

Those that don’t either leave fast or learn faster.

Godefroy finds himself the training dummy, pelted with arrows, clubs, staffs. The other knights find he has grown cocky over sparring with whatever servants have been dragged out to the field and do not hide their interest when Leon offers to help him regain some of his prowess.

He never gets within five feet of Merlin again.

Uther is beside himself, wondering where all his servants have gone, where all his knights are going, and why no one else seems to be the least bit concerned about it. Arthur smiles privately to himself as he watches the steward explain calmly that if he wants to know what’s going on with the servants, perhaps he could try talking to them.

“After all, sire, servants are people too.”

[moonlit-raven-haven]

The Past II

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, mentions of blood, hospital environment

A/N: Here’s part two! I hope you guys enjoy it :) I’ve decided to make this a mini series with maybe four parts, so stay tuned! There will be information at the very end regarding tag lists.

This series is inspire by the Instagram edit below :)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝕤𝕜𝕪 (@stylessr1) on Oct 2, 2020 at 3:19pm PDT

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout it hun, I’m just glad ya got here safely.” Y/N hears Anne’s voice comfort him as she hears wheels slowly being dragged across the floor and the closing of the door. Y/N felt frozen, unsure of what to do. Five years with no contact with the man that was speaking to his mum and sister in the living room they once used to spend hours talking in. Now they’re strangers, perhaps she was more of a stranger to him; the tabloids don’t exactly keep track of everyday people.

“I’m sure you’re hungry, there’s some leftover food in the kitchen from dinner.” Anne says, a smile evident in her voice as Y/N hears two steps of footsteps walking towards the kitchen. Her heartbeat increases more, this time the change is noticeable as she hears the uneven rhythm in her ears.

“Finish setting up the games for us Gem!” Anne calls out to her daughter as she steps into the kitchen, Harry trailing only a few steps behind her. Y/N has her back turned to the entrance of the kitchen, not finding the strength to turn around, although she knew it would be necessary eventually, but the longer she could avoid it, the slightly more at ease she felt. Her hands are gripping the edge of the sink, her knuckles white due to the pressure. She finally hears Anne’s light footsteps, followed by slightly heavier ones and a small gasp.

As Harry walked into the kitchen, looking up in the direction of the sink, where the refrigerator happens to be, he can’t help the small gasp that escapes past his lips as he sees the girl hunched over the sink, her hands gripping onto the edge of the sink as if her life depends on it. He hasn’t seen or contacted her in five years, and she never tried, having changed his number and blocked her out of his life in a slow but obvious manner. Suddenly the winter coat he’s wearing over his hoodie feels a lot warmer than usual, and his hands become clammy. The guilt is eating him up, but happiness is right next to the guilt, happiness to see that she’s okay, happiness that they’re in the same room after five years.

“Y/N?” His voice is like a sweet melody to her ears, being able to hear it more clearly she can hear the grogginess to his voice; the way it would sound every time he came home after a long flight. There’s a hint of shock, happiness, and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. And despite still feeling frozen in place, the grip she held on the sink counter loosens as she takes a deep breath and turns around, still hearing her heartbeat in her ears.

It was cheesy really, feeling like your breath is being taken away after seeing someone for the first time, or seeing them for the first time in years. But that’s what she felt in her chest, the air leaving her lungs, much like when Harry would return home and go to her house, embracing her so tightly she could no longer breathe. Y/N had seen pictures of him online and magazines, but having him in front of her didn’t compare. His face has matured more since she last saw him five years ago, stubble adorning his face, completing the medium length of his curly, chestnut hair. His legs are covered by black skinny jeans, and his feet by black Gucci boots, a signature look she had seen over the past several years in magazines. He wears a gray hoodie, a black jacket over it to keep warm in the cold weather, and her heart beat seems to quicken just a little more, it’s the jacket she had gotten him years ago, and the memory is crystal clear.

“Harry! Would you please wear a jacket?!” Her tone was serious and worried, fearing that he would get sick. They were going out for dinner at the local diner around the corner from their flat and to say it was cold out was an understatement.

“Okay mum.” Harry had rolled his eyes at her playfully, heading over to their shared closet and pulling out a gray hoodie, he pulled it over his body and headed back to the living room where Y/N was patiently waiting for him, despite her stomach growling.

“There, happy?” Harry asked her, his voice sounding like one of a snappy teenager who had to do something against their own will. Y/N shakes her head.

“It’s the coldest day of the year, and you’re wearing a hoodie that’ll barely keep you warm...you need a winter coat Harry.”

“I don’t have one.” Harry responded to her, causing Y/N to raise her eyebrow at him.

“You live in the UK and don’t own a winter coat?” She had questioned incredulously.

“Correct.”

“You’re unbelievable Styles.” Y/N had said with a shake of her head and a small laugh. They walked over to the diner, and as she suspected, Harry was shivering once they got inside, sitting next to her in the booth. It was unusual for them to do so, preferring to look at one another directly, rather than having to turn their heads when they spoke, but in that moment Harry needed to return to his normal body temperature. Y/N had hummed a soft “living in the UK without a winter coat” under her breath, causing Harry to laugh softly as their food was brought to them and they began to eat.

The day after, Harry had one final meeting with management and the boys, the one calling the official end of One Direction. So Y/N had taken it upon herself to go shopping to find a winter coat for Harry, her idiotic best friend who did not own a winter coat, plus, she hoped it would be able to boost his mood a bit. She had settled on a long black coat, simple but stylish and fitting whatever outfit he might have chosen to wear. She headed home with the coat in its own zip up bag, she could have put it in a gift bag, but she had felt it wasn’t necessary; the coat was more of a necessity rather than a gift. Harry had not come home yet, so she hung the coat on their bedroom door and then began to cook dinner.

When Harry returned to their shared flat, they had embraced, and Y/N smiled up at him, her attention temporarily away from the food on the stove.

“I got you something, it’s in the room.” She had said, the smile adorning her features made his heart beat a little faster than usual, something he had noticed but chosen to ignore, telling himself that he was excited for the item she had bought him and nothing more. He had walked over to their room, grinning from ear to ear as he unzipped the clear plastic bag and ran his fingers over the slightly rough material. Harry unsheathed the jacket from its bag and hanger, shrugging it over his body. He walked out into the living room with a smile on his face, doing a little twirl and posing with a hand on his hip once he faced her.

“How do I look?” Harry had questioned as he watched Y/N place their plates of food onto their table.

“Absolutely dashing, as usual.” Y/N had complimented as she walked over to him and fixed the collar, she gently patted it in place before looking up at him with doe eyes. He was mesmerizing to say the least, the way his hair was tied back in a messy bun, and his green eyes looked directly at her. Unconsciously they moved closer to one another, Harry’s breath fanning gently over her face.

“Thank you, love…really needed a winter coat...and a little mood booster.” Harry had said, his tone sincere, because he genuinely did appreciate her actions.

“O’course….plus you had gotten me that satchel...had to make up for it somehow…” Y/N had said with the smile that Harry had grown to love. He couldn’t deny his feelings anymore, he loved her.

He had leaned in closer to her face, but Y/N had moved away, her heart beating rapidly as she cleared her throat.

“We should probably eat before dinner gets cold.” She had said rather nervously.

“Oh right, yeah, o’course.” Harry replied, his throat was dry, and his heart had felt more heavy than it ever had.

They made their way over to their table, where they sat down and quietly ate dinner. They weren’t laughing and talking like they normally did, but instead there was a heavy silence weighing over them, and Y/N knows it’s her fault. She had wanted to kiss him, but she was unsure if she could really cross that line. Her doubts and worries had gotten the best of her. What if things didn’t work out and years of friendship went down the drain? But little did she know that would happen eventually. After that day, Harry began to keep his distance from her, it was slow, starting off with leaving the house often, to coming home late for dinner, often returning once she had gone to bed. Then he moved out, saying that their flat had gotten too cramped, which wasn’t a lie, it had gotten cramped with tension that had become unbearable. Eventually he stopped visiting her, and the calls completely stopped, and the texts had come to an abrupt halt. And then he changed his number, his address was unknown to her as he had said he wanted to keep it a surprise for when she came over the first time, but that day had never come. She had tried hard to contact him, even asking Anne and Gemma to talk to him, but it was no use. Harry had slipped from her fingers, and she couldn’t even try to get him back.

So caught up in the painful memory, Y/N didn’t realize that a tear fell down her cheek, or that Harry moved closer to her, his face full of worry as Anne left the room, saying something about the food being in the refrigerator and to heat it up.

“Hey Harry.” Y/N finally replies, wiping the stray tear off of her face, and she feels an urgency to leave, not sure if she can handle being around the man she called her best friend for so many years, the man she had loved but refused to go further than friends, afraid she would lose him.

“Um...I should really get going, especially since they’re expecting a storm.” She says, refusing to make eye contact with him as she moves past him, shrugging on her discarded coat and swinging her satchel over her shoulder.

“You kept it.” Harry states, although it sounds like more of a question as he looks at the worn down satchel hanging on the side of her body.

“You kept the coat.” Her voice falters in the slightest, but it’s enough for Harry to notice. At the mention of the coat he tenses, his mind briefly wandering to the day she bought it for him. He wants to tell her that he’s an idiot, and that he should’ve talked to her instead of running away like he did, but he can’t bring himself to do it, scared that he’ll mess things up even further.

“Um...like I said, I should really get going…” She mumbles softly, finally looking up at him and looking directly into his eyes for the first time in five years. They look their same vibrant green, but tired, perhaps from the long flight, or maybe the emotional exhaustion he surely felt the way she did in this very moment.

“You should stay...haven’t talked in awhile…I could make us some tea.” Harry offers, it was almost as if he wants to restart that tradition they had all those years ago, but Y/N shakes her head and makes her way to exit the kitchen, seeing that Anne and Gemma had begun a game already.

“Storm is starting, I should really get going…” Y/N says, her voice is no longer a whisper, but the various emotions can be heard, her eyes tearing up. The rain can be heard hitting the window, it’s soft, but she knows that in time it’ll get harder, making a dangerous ride home. She tells herself that she needs to leave for her own safety, rather than needing to be away from Harry. She had spent nights with Anne and Gemma when stoma would occur, so he excuse was lame, not thought of thoroughly.

“Please stay, love…” Harry’s voice is pleading, he wants to fix things, talk it out, explain himself and why he had acted the way he did. Y/N feels her heart ache, the dull pain gone, now replaced by the painful pang she had learned to ignore; overcome by emotion, she snaps.

“You don’t have the right to call me that anymore Harry! You left me, couldn’t even explain yourself...couldn’t even talk to me ‘bout it. I tried to contact you, but you pushed me away like I meant nothing, Harry! Absolutely nothing…” Y/N voice starts off strong, but cracks as her body shakes with emotion and tears begin to fall down her face. Harry is stunned, the guilt is now coursing through his body, realizing how badly he has hurt her. He moves closer to her, attempts to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she moves away from him, her eyes getting a slight red tint to them as she shakes her head.

“I need to go…” She murmurs, walking away from him, and as she walks into the living room she sees Anne and Gemma looking at her worriedly, the words Y/N had said moments before were enough for them to get a glimpse into the untold story that ended Y/N and Harry’s friendship.

“Sorry Anne and Gemma...can I get a rain check on game night?” Y/N asks with a sad smile as she walks over to the women and embraces them.

“Of course, Y/N. Are you sure you’re alright to drive? The storm seems to have finally picked up.” Anne says worriedly, and Y/N finally hears the rain pelting down against the window, and while she knows it probably isn’t safe for her to drive, especially with her heightened emotions, she refuses to stay another minute in the house where Harry would try and talk to her.

“I’ll be alright Anne. Thank you guys for dinner.” And with one final wave Y/N is out the door, gripping onto her coat and satchel as the heavy raindrops call against her clothing, becoming soaked in a matter of seconds. She runs to her car, pulling the keys out the satchel and unlocking it before climbing in, shivering at the cold clothes that now clinged to her body. She shrugs the satchel off and puts in the passenger's seat, putting her keys in the ignition and turning it on, waiting for the car to heat up before turning the heat on. She sees Harry run out of the warm house, his hair clinging onto his face as his hoodie takes on a dark gray color from the rain, it was rather really cinematic really.

“Y/N! Please!” She hears Harry shout, his voice muffled by the loud rain and comfort of her car. Y/N shakes her head and drives off, her hands gripping the steering wheel the same way she had done with the counter of the kitchen sink minutes before. Her mind is clouded with thoughts and memories, her eyes becoming heavy with tears, blurring her vision. I should pull over, compose myself. She thinks to herself, but decides against it; the quicker she got home the quicker she could break down in the comfort of her flat.

Her mind keeps wandering to the scene that played out at Anne’s house, causing the tears in her eyes to finally fall down her face, and she wants to stop crying, but she can't. Y/N’s vision becomes more blurry than before, and her mind is elsewhere, not truly focusing on the road in front of her, which is why she doesn’t notice the traffic signal she ignored, the red light now barley processing in her mind as a car crashes straight into the passenger's side of her car. The impact takes her by surprise as she’s suddenly very aware of her spinning car, and she grips the steering wheel, trying desperately to gain control of her car again, but it’s of no use as she crashes into the traffic light, the impact isn’t as hard as it should’ve been due to her breaking, but the traffic light still flickers, going black just like her vision.

-*-*-*-

Y/N’s eyes strain open, bright fluorescent lights filling her vision before adjusting, finding herself in a hospital room. She hears the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the soft click of the IV drip, oxygen being pumped into her lungs in a small steady stream.

“Hey you.” She hears a soft gruff voice next to her, the voice she recognizes as Mark’s, her boyfriend of two years.

“Hey babe.” Y/N says with a weak smile as his hand finds her, slowly bringing it up to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

“Was worried ‘bout you when I got the call, thankfully nothing too serious, just a sprained wrist on your other hand and a small cut to your forehead…but why didn’t you stay at Anne’s like you normally do when there’s storms?” He questions softly, concern filling his orbs as he squeezes her hand gently.

“Um...just wanted to get home…” Y/N lies to him. Despite being together for two years, Mark knew nothing of her past with Harry, or why she avoided talking about him whenever Mark would bring up some new headline about Harry and his success. As far as Mark is aware, Harry is another celebrity out of reach from their lives.

-*-*-*-

Anne received a call minutes after the accident, being one of Y/N emergency contacts. Harry was in the living room, his face between his hands as Gemma tried to comfort him while scolding him for messing up such a good friendship all those years ago. But when Anne walked in with a serious look on her face the two looked up at her worriedly.

“What happened?” Harry was the first one to speak up, removing his hands that had once been covering his face.

“It’s um...it’s Y/N...she’s been in a car accident.” Anne said quietly, and upon seeing Harry’s face become anguished, she quickly followed her statement with an urgent, “She’s okay.” And Harry’s face is washed with relief.

“We should go.” Harry says, his clothes were still drenched when he got up from his spot on the couch, leaving a wet spot from where he sat.

“You should change first hun, don’t want you getting sick, or have people recognize you.” Anne quickly chimed in before he could have walked out the door. Harry had nodded, quickly understanding the second part to her statement. He was wearing the same clothes from the airport, making it possible for someone to recognize him easier. He hums a “I’ll be right back” before disappearing upstairs with his luggage.

-*-*-*-

Upon arriving at the hospital after a rather treacherous and slow car ride, they all climb out of Anne’s car and head towards the entrance of the hospital, umbrellas in hand. They receive guest passes before making their way up to the second floor of the hospital. Harry is anxiously biting his lip, because despite not talking to Y/N for five years, he still cares deeply for her, only worsening his guilt about the whole situation.

They finally reach her room number and Anne opens the door quietly, making Y/N and Mark’s quiet moment watching television come to a halt.

“I’ll be back in a bit to give you three...four...some privacy.” Mark says to the group, planting a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead. He leaves the room, his brows slightly furrowed at the sight of Harry Styles in the room, visiting his girlfriend, throwing him in a loop. And as he makes his way down to the cafeteria for a coffee, the pieces slowly start to assemble in his head, the reason Y/N didn’t like to talk about the famous star, and why she probably hadn’t stayed at Anne’s house like she normally did; the two have history.

Harry closes the door gently once Mark exits the room, his face scrunching up slightly in distaste at seeing Y/N with another man who wasn’t him, even if her and Harry were never truly together, it still hurts. He recalls when he came home after his first solo tour, he was having dinner with Anne and Gemma, the topic of Y/N briefly coming up.

“Oh Y/N is so wonderful darling! It’s such a shame you two stopped talking.” Anne had commented over dinner.

“Yeah, she’s wonderful...deserve the whole world.” Harry had replied quietly, a small smile coming onto his face at the mention of the girl.

“She’s got a boyfriend now, his name is Mark...seems serious if you ask me.” Anne added as she had taken a sip of her wine. Harry had felt a pang in his chest when he heard the word boyfriend, wishing that it was him and not some other bloke. But Harry had foolishly run out of Y/N’s life.

“Does she seem happy?” Harry had asked seconds after, a hint of jealousy to his tone, a hint of jealousy that he truly had no right to have.

“Yeah...seem a bit tense there, Harry, almost jealous…” Gemma had finally chimed into the conversation. Harry had simply laughed at her comment, shaking his head as he denied the claims of jealousy, carrying their conversation elsewhere as dinner continued.

That was two years ago now, she has been with Mark for two years. Mark is the one making her happy, kissing her, taking her out, buying her gifts, making sure she’s treated properly, not Harry. He no longer has a place in her life, at least he thinks he doesn’t. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize that Anne and Gemma had left the room, leaving Harry and Y/N alone. Harry clears his throat.

“Where are Gemma and my mum?” Harry asks Y/N, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Went to the cafeteria, said that we should talk…” Y/N says as she looks up at him from her position on the bed, and for the first time since entering her room, Harry looks at her, wincing at the cut on her head, part of her hair dried with blood, and her wrist wrapped in a bandage. And he can’t help the bubble of guilt within him that seems to grow more; it was his fault she was on the bed, if he had stayed quiet, she would’ve probably gotten home safely, or been willing to spend the night at Anne’s house.

“You okay, Harry?...” Y/N asks quietly, noticing his lack of words or movement, and the tears that fell down his face. She is still mad at him, but above all, she is hurt, but she still can’t stop herself from caring about him. Harry, finally noticing his tears he shakes his head and sniffles, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“‘M okay lo- Y/N...thank you for caring.” He says softly, quickly catching on to the mistake he almost made once again.

“I should get going…” Harry says softly. He knew Anne told Y/N that her and Harry would need to talk to fix things, but her willingness to do is what makes him head for the door.

“Harry! Wait...I reckon we really do need to talk.” Y/N calls out after him from her position on the hospital bed.

“Uh...yeah, just not right now Y/N. I really should get going…” He catches himself trying to run away again, and quickly stops himself. “When do you get discharged?” He questions, still standing by the door as he turns to face her.

“Tomorrow morning.” Y/N states with a small smile, one that almost manages to make him feel better in an instant, but he doesn’t allow himself to feel better, he deserves what he’s feeling after having been the cause of her emotional turmoil, the reason she’s in that bed.

“Dinner tomorrow? My place? 7’oclock. We could talk and catch up.” Harry proposes, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Dinner tomorrow, your place, 7’oclock.” Y/N repeats softly, perhaps they could try and go back to normal, be as close as they once had, as best friends. Harry hums in response, nodding his head before opening the door and gently closing it behind him, leaving Y/N with a gentle smile on her face and a heart that no longer aches as much.

-*-*-*-

A/N: I will be making a two master lists for Harry Styles content! :) One for ALL Harry Styles fics I will do in the future, and one for JUST this fic. Comment “All Harry fics” or “Just this Harry fic” if you would like to be added.

[kumeko]

A/N: For @giyushinozine! I wanted to tangle with Shinobu’s growing feelings, the complicated mess of her not knowing how she feels only that their relationship isn’t the same as it was before.

…

…

…

…

It was raining. Standing on the threshold of an abandoned house, Shinobu breathed in the earthy air as she watched the steady downpour. Not even the birds and insects wanted to be caught in this weather, and Shinobu missed their usual song. Instead, she was serenaded by the soft plip as rain hit the hole-filled roof, the pitter-patter of droplets as they struck the earth.

This wasn’t the first storm that had caught her unawares. It probably wouldn’t be the last. If anything, a dilapidated building was better than the caves she’d hidden in before. There was no point in risking a cold by heading to the town proper and searching for an inn.

Well, there was one point. Shinobu grimaced as she looked over her shoulder. Barely visible in the gloom was Giyu. Suddenly she found herself longing for a damp cave. Maybe she could even just keep heading home; what was a feverish week in exchange for a couple of hours worth of peace? Getting trapped with Giyu was the worst luck. It had been off-putting running into him while returning from a mission, but spending the night with him?

The rain was looking more and more tempting. Shinobu stared at the dark clouds one last time before stepping back with a sigh. If she got sick and a demon attacked—she shook her head, refusing to entertain the idea any further. She could put up with Giyu until the rain stopped, at least.

Steeling herself, she turned around. The house was a small one with a simple layout. The biggest room was this first room, featuring a sunken hearth and space around for its occupants to huddle. Water leaked into the house from several sizeable holes in the ceiling, but luckily none were near the firepit. Unfortunately, while Giyu was sitting next to the hearth, he hadn’t actually started a fire. Hand on her hip, Shinobu tried to keep her irritation out of her voice as she asked, “Where’s the fire?”

He looked at her, a sleepy expression on his face, and shrugged. “It isn’t there.”

“I can see that.” Shinobu bit her cheek. This was just minute one. She had to at least make it to an hour before giving up. “Whyisn’t there a fire?”

“I didn’t start it,” he answered simply.

Maybe Kanao would visit her in jail. Shinobu gritted her teeth and quickly strode toward the center of the room. “This is why no one likes you. It’s common sense to start a fire when it’s cold.” Ignoring his surprised flinch—and honestly, why did that surprise him? He should know how everyone felt by now—, she knelt by the hearth and inspected the coal there. Oddly shaped and crumbly, they were at least dry and would hopefully kindle. “Otherwise we’ll get sick and the last thing I am doing is carrying you back.”

Giyu didn’t say anything, just watched as she pulled out her tinder. His eyes were barely visible in the half-light. At night, it would be impossible to see him at all. While that was preferable, she didn’t want to break her neck walking around this place in the dark. Luckily, it didn’t take long for the fire to take. The flames flickered to life, a thin curl of smoke rising to the roof. Immediately, the warmth hit her skin and she sat a little further back, letting the heat remove the chill from her bones. She sighed, “That’s better.”

He kept quiet. Soon, the crackling flames were the only sound in the room as they greedily gobbled up the remaining coal. Idly, Shinobu glanced at her companion. She could count the number of times she’d been alone with him with a single hand, maybe two. It was odd. They’d worked together for so long, but she’d never really thought of him before now. Maybe it was his lack of presence or the way he isolated himself. Even now, with no one around but the two of them, he kept to himself, his eyes trained on the fire.

Shinobu had never considered herself someone who needed conversation. She liked silence almost as much as she liked chatter, liked how doing nothing could sometimes be utterly comfortable. This was neither of those things. Feeling awkward and slightly unnerved, she wondered how she should break the silence. The shadows danced across his face in strange patterns. She kept adjusting her posture, her legs falling asleep as they waited, yet he hadn’t moved an inch.

In the end, she didn’t have to. Her stomach gurgled hungrily, and Shinobu immediately wrapped an arm around her waist as a mortified blush burned her neck. She snapped her attention to Giyu. Their eyes met and any hopes she had that he hadn’t noticed vanished. “I…” she mumbled, her brain running in circles as she tried to find an explanation that kept her dignity.

“Hungry?” Giyu asked.

“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted. Somehow, an hour had passed since they’d taken refuge. Even now, the rain didn’t let up, the droplets drumming on the roof as the night took over. Shinobu prided herself on her preparation, but she had planned on arriving home hours ago.

Something crinkled and she watched as Giyu pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle. Holding it out, he offered, “You can have some.”

“I don’t need—” Her indignant response was immediately cut off as her stomach grumbled yet again. The hot blush on her neck crawled up her cheeks and there was no escaping this now. Flustered, she quickly got up and moved next to Giyu. As she sat down, her hand out to take the food, she growled, “You tell anyone about this and you’re dead.”

Confused, he cocked his head. “Why?”

She wasn’t sure if that was ‘Why would I tell anyone’ or ‘Why would I die’. She also didn’t care. How could she ever look anyone in the eye if they knew that Giyu of all people was more prepared than she was? Shaking her hand insistently, she snapped, “Does it matter?”

Giyu gave her a long, blank stare before slowly unwrapping his bundle, revealing three large onigiri. “No.”

Somehow, even when she got what she wanted, Giyu still frustrated her. What did he think of it all? Did he care? He had thawed since their last, but changes with him were as subtle as erosion on a rock. It didn’t help that he was as dense as one. Fighting down her irritation, she plucked one of the rice balls from his hand. The very round rice balls—Giyu took the ‘ball’ part literally it seemed. Still, maybe it tasted good.

A single bite dashed her hopes: the food was as tasteless as he was. Resisting the urge to gag at its blandness, she asked, “Do you know what salt is?”

“Yes.” Of course his expression remained utterly placid as he ate. Bite after bite, his face was as still as a lifeless pond. Maybe his taste buds had died long ago. Noticing her stare, he held out the last ball. “You want another?”

She couldn’t stop the grimace. “I can barely handle this one.” There was no point in nuance or tip-toeing around a matter with him. If Shinobu didn’t bluntly state it, he wouldn’t get it. “Did you make this? It’s terrible.”

“Terrible?” Shocked, he looked at the ball, then back at her. It was like kicking an ugly puppy.

“Yes, terrible. You can’t serve this to anyone.” Shinobu rolled her eyes. “How did you mess up something so simple? Even I can do this.”

“Oh.” Looking utterly devastated, he stared at the rice ball. It was impressive how broken he looked, even though his expression didn’t change much.

“Just add salt next time,” Shinobu relented, already tired of insulting him. Like this, he reminded her too much of Kanao when she’d first started learning things. Kanao. Her mind wandered to the Butterfly Estate, to the five girls waiting there. Well, perhaps four now that Kanao had her own duties. Aoi would be worried. She always worried too much. “She won’t like this,” she muttered, half to herself.

Still chewing on his riceball like a hamster, Giyu shot her an inquisitive look. “Who?”

She hadn’t intended to say that aloud. Another clumsy mistake in front of him. Maybe she should just bury him under the wisteria trees; they needed the nourishment. Reticently, she mumbled, “Aoi.”

He only looked at her, perplexed. Shinobu longed for the good old days when she didn’t care about anything. Louder now, she repeated, “Aoi. I’m late from the mission, she must be worried.”

“She isn’t,” Giyu replied immediately.

It took her a full minute to process his response. Gritting her teeth, she asked politely, “Why not?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he stated flatly with the absolute assurance that only a complete moron had.

Last Shinobu had heard, there was another water pillar in training. They wouldn’t miss Giyu’s absence for long. Curling her hand into a fist, Shinobu glared at him. “This might be a foreign concept to you, but some people actually care about others.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what about him made her so angry. It couldn’t just be his rudeness—Sanemi was twice as rude and she didn’t want to murder him at every encounter. No, it had to be something deeper than that, but she didn’t want to waste her thoughts on it, on him. Focusing instead on her nails digging into her skin, she forced herself to calm down.

Now that her appetite was appeased, however badly, she listened to their surroundings once more. The rain tapped unevenly on the roof, the storm abating slightly. Unfortunately, it was still rain. She was still trapped here with him. Resigning herself to her fate, she shifted to get more comfortable one. “Even in this weather, a demon might come. We’ll have to take shifts,” she announced, rubbing the back of her neck.

Giyu nodded his agreement.

When he didn’t say anything else, Shinobu added irately, “I’ll take first watch.”

Once more, he merely nodded. Rude, lacking manners, utterly unreadable—Shinobu didn’t know how it was possible to find only new disappointments with a single person. The only thing he had going for him was his slightly above-average looks, and even that was ruined the second he did something. Fine, whatever, she thought. It wasn’t like she could sleep comfortably, knowing the only thing between her and death was him.

Leaning forward, she stoked the coals once more, embers flying as she gathered the broken rocks together. “Make sure this doesn’t disappear when it’s your turn.” Satisfied, Shinobu sat back and stretched her arms above her. Maybe she should take a walk after this and smooth out the crinks in her back. “I’ll wake you up in four hours.”

“Okay.” Crossing his arms, Giyu buried his hands in his sleeves. His eyes remained open.

“You know you can sleep, right?” she asked, just in case he didn’t understand what a ‘watch’ meant. The other pillars didn’t like him, after all. Maybe he’d never gone on a mission this long with someone other than her.

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes still wide open. There was nothing about his stiff posture that looked like a man about to sleep.

It wasn’t worth pursuing it any further. She refused to go bald from the stress of dealing with him. And if he didn’t trust her abilities enough to rest, well, he was the one who wanted to pull an all-nighter.

Making herself comfortable, Shinobu rested her cheek on her hand as she watched the coals. It was going to be a long, uneventful night. Even demons didn’t like coming out on nights like these. In the distance, she heard an owl hoot, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets. The rain almost washed it all out, a steady static noise. It had been too long since she’d had an uneventful night like this.

An hour passed. Then another. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she observed Giyu’s profile. He was just as hard to grasp from his side as he had been from the front. Maybe he’d be a mystery to her for her entire life. Tired as she was, that didn’t sound entirely bad.

“You’re strong,” he said, breaking the silence. She wasn’t sure if she was still in her watch or part way through his now.

Drowsy, she retorted, “Of course I am.”

“You’re strong,” he repeated, as though she hadn’t said anything. “So no one has to worry about you. The strong…” he paused. She could feel the weight of it. “The strong come back.”

She didn’t have to ask if that was personal experience. There was only one reason anyone joined the corps, after all. Still, Shinobu wished she was sitting across the fire, still able to see his expression. Or even just was more awake than she was now. His voice had a flavour to it. She could only imagine what he looked like.

Her eyes closed. Opened. Closed again. The next time Shinobu was aware of her surroundings, there was a warmth behind her head and a strong arm around her shoulders. Giyu’s, her fuzzy mind provided helpfully. She should be disgusted, but it was warm and comfortable, so she’d allow it just this once. His breathing was even, as always, and she fell asleep once more to the sound of his heartbeat.

When Shinobu woke up the next morning, she was alone. Curled up on the ground and a jacket covering her shoulders, but utterly alone. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly sat up and glanced around. Sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof, illuminating the place. There wasn’t hide nor hair of Giyu anywhere. It felt almost like a dream, though if it had him in it, it had to be a nightmare.

The only proof that any of it happened was his jacket on her shoulders, keeping her warm. It fell to her lap in a crumpled heap as she straightened up. Gingerly, she picked it up between two fingers, eyeing the fabric distastefully.

What, exactly, was she supposed to do with this? Returning it felt like a loss. Shinobu glanced at the hearth in front of her. She could still burn it in there; even if the coals were gone, there was plenty of dry wood in this house.

She bit her lip, studying the jacket once more. Part of her could still feel the warmth of his shoulder, hear his quiet voice. Shinobu couldn’t return it, couldn’t destroy it. Couldn’t figure out exactly what riled her up about this man. It’d be easier if she didn’t care or was truly as disgusted by him as she acted.

Sighing, she folded the damned fabric. If she couldn’t figure out what to do with it now, she’d just have to keep it until she did.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

As you can see, I’m ALREADY pepped for

✨Kauri with sick jake✨

So don’t worry about that

Honestly, this is for @eatyourdamnpears and everyone else encouraging my silly whims

CW: Description of migraine visual aura, migraine, sick whumpee, some consensual spice refs/flirting at the end

It starts as a dot in the center of his vision, a bit of gray he can’t quite see around. Jake frowns, closes one eye and then the other, but it’s there in both of them when he tries to look at the clock on the oven. He checks his text messages and there it is, little gray dot, making it... not impossible, but difficult to read the message.

“What are you doing?” Kauri asks the question from the doorway, standing with his shoulder leaning on the frame and his arms crossed in front of himself, wearing nothing but one of Jake’s shirts, hanging off his frame in a way that somehow makes him seem more graceful, not less. 

“Go get pants on before Ant comes down and blacks out from blushing so hard,” Jake says, voice still upbeat, but... is the spot getting bigger?

He picks up his phone and types in ‘signs of seizure’ into Google. 

Nope.

‘Sudden changes in vision.’

Oh, well, the potential answers to that one are definitely fucking terrifying.

How about... ‘gray dot in center of eye’.

“What the fuck is retinal detachment?” Jake mumbles, squinting. The dot is definitely getting bigger, and it’s in both eyes, not just one. So... not retinal detachment, unless his eyes both did it simultaneously, which seems impossible, but...

Google seems very convinced he might be dying. That is not comforting him at all as he tries to read around the spot.

“Jake?” Kauri pads across the kitchen tile on bare feet, and his hand presses cool to Jake’s bare back, long fingers against his spine. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a weird-... a thing in my eye... or my eyes?” Jake leans slightly back into Kauri’s touch. He hasn’t stopped being grateful for Kauri’s presence, and so deeply aware of it. It feels fragile, whatever is happening now, even though Kauri has always been made of steel underneath his insistence that he was nothing but tissue.

“What kind of weird thing?” Kauri moves around him, to lean his back against the counter next to the stove, head tilted to look up at Jake.

Jake looks down at him, tousled black curls and the way his face has changed with time, cheekbones and jawline more prominent, but his eyes have never been anything but the widest, brightest blue, and he can see Kauri through the arc that the gray dot is forming in his vision as it expands.

“I can’t-... I keep seeing gray,” He confesses, shaking his head - and he feels pressure there, a sense of something just... sitting behind his eyes, over his eyebrows. Like the weight of a small animal is there, and getting heavier. “Just, like, a dot, but it’s getting... bigger. And... like, breaking up?”

He tries to look at Kauri again, and the dot is a half-circle now. There’s a flash in the rounded curve of it, and then another. Then a third, but this one is colors, and there are small rainbows flashing lights along the arch as it grows. 

“Am I-... is this a fucking seizure? Or a, a brain tumor? Or...”

Kauri, to Jake’s shock, laughs. “Oh! No, Jake. No, that sounds like - you said it’s getting bigger?” He reaches up, going up on his toes as Jake leans down, and presses his cool hand against the side of Jake’s face. “Is it, like, turning into a circle? Do you see lights?”

“Um... yeah. Yeah, like, like a fucking rainbow strobe light on the right side.” Jake closes his eyes, and the pressure is getting worse. 

“Jake.” Kauri’s voice is soft. “You’ve got a migraine. Or you’re about to have one. When did you last sleep through the night? Or, like, at all?”

Jake snorts. “You’re one to talk.” 

“Answer the question, you.” Kauri pokes him in the side, with gentle affection, and Jake wishes he could focus on his face around the widening, flashing arch at the right side of his vision. At least it’s sort of framing Kauri, now, and Jake wonders at Kauri just... here.

No backpack by the door next to his shoes, ready to run. The backpack is in Jake’s room, and it’s empty. Kauri’s fucking... pet Roomba Keira is in her place of honor in the living room by the Christmas tree. One of the new rescues is convinced they can fix her broken wheel even though it’s been actual years since Keira could roll around on her own. 

For her part, Keira informed Kauri in that... unsettling metallic female voice that her visual sensors were enjoying the shifting colors of the Christmas lights and that she didn’t mind playing a sort of living Wikipedia for the rescues - all former Romantics - learning about a world they were forced to forget.

Keira reported to Jake that the most common question she received was some variation on how many pets run away, and how many go back?

 The numbers are getting bigger - and the amount that end up back in WRU custody or with their former owners is going down.  That alone drives Jake to keep working, harder than ever, to give as many as he can somewhere safe to land.

“I don’t know. Chris is here for Christmas break, we have new rescues, there’s-... just been a lot going on, and-” He sighs as Kauri’s hand moves up, thumb rubbing soft little circles just above his eyebrow, and the pressure building behind his eyes seems to lessen, just a little, at the touch.

“So the answer is that you’re stressed and not sleeping. So this is definitely a migraine. Is it still getting bigger?”

Jake opens his eyes and looks down at Kauri’s face, giving a slight smile. “Uh, yeah. It’s... almost all off to the right, now. You’re pretty with a rainbow around you.”

“Well I’m gay as hell, so I should hope I look good in rainbows,” Kauri says, smiling with his nose scrunched up the way he does when he’s not being self-conscious about it, and then he takes Jake by the hand, pulling him back across the kitchen. “Come on, you. Time to lay down.”

“Kaur, the rescues will wake up any second now-”

“Antoni can feed them as well as you can - way better, honestly. He can just reheat those little pocket things with the cheese in them.”

“... Hot Pockets? I don’t think-”

“No, the thingies. The, um. The pirouettes?”

“Piroshkis?”

“Sure, that sounds right, too.”

“Well, pirouette is a ballet term-”

“Jake. Not important. Let’s just be happy I remember anything at all. Come on.”

Jake doesn’t feel like he follows Kauri so much as, like always, Kauri is a planet on its own orbit that Jake is drawn to, has always been drawn to, long before he could have had a moment with him like this. “But Chris-”

“Chris is twenty-three years old,” Kauri points out. “More or less. He can take care of himself, and right now you need someone to take care of you. And trust me, I have a lot of experience with migraines - and so does he.”

The rainbow flashes are fading out, moving so far to the side of his vision that they are effectively gone, but the pressure is still building and Jake squints against the way the first hints of sunlight hurts, a little, to see coming through the windows. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Kauri’s legs are pale where they show under the hem of the big shirt he wears, and Jake swallows against the way something in him stirs at the sight, but that bit of pain that had come with seeing the sun isn’t leaving. It’s getting worse. “When I stopped blacking out, I started getting headaches, migraines, lasted for days. Fucking hated it. I used to get them in training a lot, too.”

“You did?”

“Mmhmm.” Kauri pauses, briefly, at the top of the stairs. “When I relearned how to read, and when I looked at myself again, they came back. But I had to keep trying, anyway.” He glances over at Jake and gives him a slight smile. “All that time I spent trying to figure out what you were seeing when you looked at me. Migraines come with the territory.”

“Why don’t I know that you were getting headaches?”

“Because I didn’t tell you about them. We’re, um. We’re good at ignoring pain.” Kauri smiles, still, but there’s something a little more brittle in it now. “Chris got them, too, learning to read. And... probably before. But everything-... hurts so much, in training. You get used to doing everything with the pain instead of waiting until it’s over. You don’t have a choice. There we go, I’ve distracted you with a sob story long enough to get you back to your room.” Kauri helps Jake inside, closing the door, and Jake sighs in relief as the room is beautifully, perfectly dark. 

“Our room,” He says, and his head is starting to really hurt, now. “I don’t have time to lie down, Kaur.”

“You sure as fuck do,” Kauri says cheerfully, getting him back to the bed, hands running over Jake’s shoulders, back, and sides as he lays down on his stomach, groaning. Kauri presses a little, here and there, gnawing on his lower lip. “You’ve got some serious fucking stress in your back, Jake.”

“When do I not?” Jake asks, muffled by shoving his face into a pillow.

“... good point. I’m going to get you something for your headache and tell Antoni he’s in charge today. You... don’t move. Or I’ll be very unhappy with you.” Kauri’s voice teases, effortlessly flirty, just a little with the graze of his fingertips before he pulls away. 

He’s gone, for just a few minutes, and Jake’s headache seems to worsen by the second, moving from the first hints of pressure to a full-on pounding pain. He doesn’t dare pull his head up, afraid even the slightest sliver of light will be too much. His stomach twists and turns, too, and Jake’s glad he got up here before he ate anything. 

That Kauri got him up here.

Kauri reappears with two pills, a glass of water, and a surprisingly bright smile on his face. “Well, I’ve embarrassed Antoni by stretching and forgetting I’m not wearing any pants, so... good thing I look good naked. Here, take this.”

Jake swallows down the pills and drinks the water until it’s gone, then hides his face back in the pillow. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Stay right here, dumbass,” Kauri says, softly, and he crawls up into the bed, lying down on his side next to Jake. Jake can feel the soft brush of his hair before he leans in and kisses Jake’s neck. “Stay right here with you. That’s my plan for the day.”

“I’m gonna be real boring,” Jake mumbles into the pillow. 

Kauri’s voice is low, situated just above a whisper but below the threshold that would make Jake’s head pound any harder. “I spent years alone with a talking Roomba and some plants on a balcony. Boring doesn’t bother me. I’d rather sit in this bedroom in the dark with you being a big whiny baby than be anywhere else.”

“... ‘m not whiny.”

“He said, whinily,” Kauri teased, and snuggled up next to him. Somehow he’d taken his shirt off and Jake slid one arm over the warm skin of his back, pulling him close. “Hey now-”

“Isn’t sex a pain reliever?” Jake asks, eyes still closed, nuzzling into Kauri’s neck, the warm smell of his skin, with the faintest hint of Jake’s own cologne. Something about having known Kauri to never smell like the same cologne twice for so long, and to know now he only ever smelled like Jake... 

“Not for migraines. Wait til your head feels better, dumbass.”

“Thought you liked my ass,” Jake murmurs, kissing just under Kauri’s ear, a spot he knows Kauri likes, a spot Kauri didn’t know he liked, because nobody ever bothered to explore Kauri the way he deserves. His hand slid down and between Kauri’s legs-

And then he winces and turns his head back to the pillow. “Ow. Okay, I can’t right now.”

“Told you so,” Kauri says, moving Jake’s hand back over his waist. “No sex until you feel better, Doctor Kauri’s orders.”

Jake pauses, and says softly, “I must be the only guy on earth who fucking loves hearing you say ‘no.’”

Kauri pauses, and then kisses Jake’s hair, the top of his head, and slides back into his embrace, the warmth that came with lying together under the blankets together. 

“Yeah, maybe. But I like that you want to hear it.”

“Always. Whenever you need to say it. I love you, Kaur.”

Jake thinks he hears the faintest hint of hidden tears in Kauri’s voice when he answers, “Love you, too.” 

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[brook-182]

A Poisoned Chalice

Chapter 1

As soon as Warriors saw the army-sized horde of monsters he knew it was going to be a long day. The Links had been travelling together for months and the packs of monsters they had encountered during that time were less than half the mob they currently faced. They had covered the forest in this Hyrule fairly easily, only a few stray bokoblins bothering them. Yet the minute they stepped out into the vast openness of the prairie they were spotted and surrounded by swarms of monsters that had been a trademark feature in his Hyrule ever since the war.

“What even are these numbers? I’ve never seen monster camps this big, even in my Hyrule,” Wild gawked. 

“It’s just our luck,” Legend grunted as he clashed swords with a moblin that towered over the grumbling hero. “As soon as we finally make it out of those goddess-damned woods we get attacked. I’m willing to bet someone’s getting nicked today. We've been far too safe for far too long.”

“Ah, always the optimist,” Warriors retorted after he impaled a chuchu, a wave of gelatinous blue gunk spreading over the grass at his feet. “Can you at least try to be positive for once?”

“Easy for you to say, Captain,” the veteran shot back. “You’re used to mobs like these.” 

Legend wasn’t necessarily wrong, but even Warriors hadn’t expected to be ambushed like this in a foreign land.

The battle raged from noon to dusk but, unbelievably, contrary to Legend’s pessimistic prediction nobody was seriously hurt. But even with everyone righteously exhausted, Twilight, their current Hyrule’s patron, noted that there was a village nearby where the Links could spend the night instead of camping out and restock on supplies in the morning.

Without further delay, the group made their way to the village.

So with the day’s events behind him and the safety of an inn to revel in, the captain dragged his feet through the hall and stumbled into the small room he would share with Legend and Sky. After doing the bare minimum of taking off his armour and kicking off his boots he flopped onto the bed, thoroughly worn-out.

 

“I know you’re tired, but don’t you want to get more comfortable?” Sky asked, noticing Warriors’ less-than-cosy position. The hero simply grumbled in reply as he sat up and took off his tunic, launching it to the far side of the room before he fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Sky sighed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

Warrior slept like a rock the minute his head hit the pillow. The bed was comfortable and warm, and the room was dark; the perfect atmosphere for a peaceful sleep. However, no matter how many people Warriors knew were with him, his rest was not without dreams.

~~~

He was seated in the palace dining room for some reason, an elaborate feast spread out on the grand wooden table before him. He wouldn’t have thought it that strange if he wasn’t the only person in the room, however. Well, he and a figure he could feel staring at him from behind his back. The captain turned around to see who was standing there and found the figure to be shrouded in heavy shadows.

 They stalked closer, the darkness following them as they walked. The faceless shadow silently set a large platter of food from the feast in front of the knight. He was about to refuse the meal when his hand unconsciously picked an apple off the plate and he greedily devoured it, seemingly much to the satisfaction of the figure, who was eager to pile more food onto the plate. Again Warriors began eating against his will.

The food seemed endless, an abundant cornucopia of fresh fruit, stews, meat and vegetables.

After consuming many helpings of food Warriors was deterred by his full stomach and stopped his ravenous feasting. The figure, now next to him, lifted a spoon full of stew to his lips but the captain refused it. “I don’t want to eat anymore.” The shadow simply urged the utensil closer until Warriors had no choice but to open his mouth to protest. “I don’t-”

He almost choked as the spoon was shoved forcefully into his mouth, the offender leaving no room for protests. He wasn't sure how he could tell that the figure was growing impatient by his squirming, but he was no longer a willing participant in this feast. He reached his hand out to try and stop another onslaught of food when he found that his hands were firmly bonded to the armrests of his chair. His legs as well were bound to the floor.

“What is this? What did you do to me?” the captain said, glancing up from his bonds to look the figure in the eyes, except he was no longer there. Replacing the shadow was a man he hadn’t seen in nearly six years. “Thomas? I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be-”

“Dead? Gone? Forgotten in the middle of a nowhere region?” Thomas laughed. “Glad to disappoint you.”

“They sent you to Faron.”

“And yet here I am, willing and eager to give you the best treatment a hero could receive. Now, you must be hungry after saving the world and all. Come on, open up!”

Another spoonful of food was messily shoved into Warriors’ gawking mouth. When he recovered after nearly choking on whatever nasty concoction was shoved into his mouth- at this point he wasn’t even sure it was food- he struggled vainly against the chains securing him. He was too afraid to argue, too afraid that he would get another mouthful of whatever Thomas was feeding him. He felt sick, his stomach too full and the meal too vile to keep down.

“Aw, are you feeling unwell, Captain? That’s too bad, I almost feel sorry for what I’m about to do.”

Without warning, Thomas pried open the captain’s mouth. Warriors jaw was clamped like a vice but somehow Thomas had the otherworldly strength of Ganondorf himself and was able to separate his lips without effort. The captain saw him reach for a chalice on the table behind him. The cup was filled with a sour-smelling liquid that’s colour and fragrance reminded him too much of wine to be something else.

“Sto-” Warriors started to cry but a mouthful of alcohol followed his plea. He hastily gulped the liquid and tried to beg again, trying and failing to stop Thomas from continuing this torture. When the chalice was empty and he got a chance to breathe, the effort making his stomach hurt, he asked, “why are you doing this?”

Thomas laughed lowly, his deep voice echoing on the cavernous walls. “Why do you think I should?”

As Warriors was about to reply a feeling of weightlessness overtook him and before he was able to process his surroundings he was in a new setting entirely.

The training grounds of the castle were not an odd sight for a soldier of Hyrule, but the sheer number of training dummies left without partners to train was startling. There were over one hundred wooden dummies and nobody besides him in the courtyard.

He heard a voice on the balcony, a feminine voice like water trickling in a cavern, a quiet echo carrying her soft words. “You know what to do, Link.” It was Zelda.

The master sword was in his hand. He felt his grip on the blade tighten. He was afraid, but of what he was uncertain. He held up his sword, his grip loosening as he made a practised jab at the wooden dummy that suddenly emerged before him. The blade slid straight through the chest of a soldier that hadn’t been standing there before. Warriors jumped back, shocked and horrified by what he had just done. He recognised the face, he knew the person he had just killed!

“Don’t stop,” he heard and turned sharply to the sound of general Impa’s voice. She was calm as she took in the scene before her, and Warriors wasn’t sure if she’d witnessed the same thing he had. He reluctantly shook off his anxiety and brought his sword down on another inanimate dummy. But he was convinced this must have been a strange hallucination or test as the once-wooden figure once again turned to the flesh of a soldier he recognised. He gasped and nearly dropped his weapon when the soldier fell dead to the ground.

“Don’t just stand there! Attack them!” That was Cia! Why was she there?

He didn’t have time to think about that though as he cut and sliced dummy after dummy- soldier after soldier- killing them almost instantly, blood and gore carpeting the once clean courtyard floor.

“Do it!”

“Cut it down!”

“Fight for your kingdom!”

“Do the right thing!” They cheered as he single-handedly reduced the numbers to a mere handful.

He was shaking as he made the final attack on the last still soldier. The captain sank to the ground with a strangled cry along with the body of the man he had just slaughtered, unwilling to look the three spectators in the eyes. He was crying, feeling unbearably guilty for what he had just done. Why did he not stop? He knew every single one of the people he just killed, but he hadn’t stopped. He couldn’t hold back his sob as he looked at the dead eyes of the man before him. He shared a room with this soldier. His name was Neil. He ate with him, fought with him, and finally killed him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to attack whoever was responsible for this rampage, but he only had himself to blame.

He felt the familiar taste of bile before he was startled by the feeling of hands wrapping around his throat.

What was happening?!

Warrior woke with a start, the leftover emotions from his dream prominent on his face. He was shaking. He felt sick to his stomach. He gagged and jumped to his feet, looking for the bucket of drinking water Legend had collected for the room. He threw the water out, not caring about the soaked wood under his feet and knelt in front of the bucket. He heaved and retched until he felt his abs ache. He couldn't even remember half of his dream yet he was still terrified of whatever had caused this reaction. He couldn't make himself go back to sleep. Through the adrenalin, he still felt so tired but he would rather keel over than reimagine whatever nightmares his mind had conjured up.

Warrior took several deep breaths, but he couldn’t control the flow of tears streaming down his cheeks. He choked on a sob, trying to stay quiet for his companions’ sakes. But it seemed Legend had already woken up to the sound of his retching.

"What's wrong?" Legend asked groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he shifted in his bed. "I heard someone being sick." He looked around the dark room and spotted Warriors on the floor. "Pretty boy? Are you okay?"

Warriors bristled at the nickname but let it roll off his back. After debating on how to answer the question he decided that lying to Legend wouldn’t get him anywhere since the vet would simply just pry an answer out of him anyway. He couldn’t give Legend the whole truth though, even if he wanted to. “I’m fine,” he said shakily, exhaustion still thick in his voice. “Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

“That must have been some dream if you’re losing your lunch over it.” Warriors didn't have the will to comment on Legend's statement. Instead, he kept silent, his mind already swimming with vague images of his dream. Legend rolled his eyes so far back he looked possessed. “Well, I don’t know about you but I can’t sleep in the same room with a bucket of puke. I’ll come with you to throw it out but I’m not touching that,” he said and Warriors almost heard the genuine concern in his voice.

“How generous,” he huffed but accepted the company nonetheless. “Just don’t make a big deal out of this,” he said. As he stood he felt his pants cling to his legs and noticed with annoyance that the water he threw out of the bucket was all over the floor and his trousers. “Great,” he muttered.

“Better change those pants. There’s a chill in the air and we don’t need you getting more sick than you just were.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, just cool it. Now come on, you look like you need some air.”

After a quick change of clothes, Warriors followed Legend outside. Sky- by some divine miracle- was still fast asleep so they quietly shut the door behind them.

They were silent as they walked through the corridor and down the stairs, nobody willing to make small talk or ask questions. But Warriors could feel Legend’s eyes on him, looking for any reason or excuse to bring up what had happened in the room. Finally when they reached the outside Legend spoke.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, scrunching his face and gesturing to the gross bucket the knight was carrying. “Just go back to bed.”

“But you said-” the captain started to argue, but he was promptly cut off by Legend’s exasperated response.

“I know what I said, just go before I make a scene.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Did you not hear me?” the veteran screeched and Warriors couldn’t hold back a snort. He held up his hands placatingly and went back inside to the room. He eyed his bed for a long moment before deciding that pretending to sleep was probably the only way to get Legend off his back for now. He got under the blankets and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to look convincingly at peace while his mind was still racing with fear and guilt.

About half an hour later he heard the door creak open. He could hear Legend speaking muffled nonsense as he got into the bed next to him. Warriors did his best to even out his breathing to fool the veteran. There was a brief pause. He could feel Legend’s eyes burning a hole in his skull before he heard an audible huff and the sound of a body hitting a soft mattress.

He was about to celebrate his successful hoodwink when he heard the vet mutter, “go to sleep.”

He wished it was that easy.

A gigantic thank you to @autumnalchemist for being my beta❤❤ Much appreciated, friend😊