#i enjoy the occasional word vomit

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread  

Tears in the Water

NA contemporary slice of life romance about a competitive swimmer with anxiety at a sports university

they start seriously questioning their gender when they make some new friends and start dating a trans volleyball player

queer friend groups, aspec characters

[generalsmemories]

Homecoming

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the general of luofu awaits your return home into his arms

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, jing yuan's inner monologue about his dear lover

✧ a/n: kicks down door, GUESS WHOSE BACK! I HOPE. this was word vomit so if there's anything wrong or amiss, no there isn't. I wanted to write a lil fluff before going back to my self indulgent fic (and writing for phainon too) im sorry wife i left you alone for MONTHS!! anyway i hope you all just like this fluffy piece where an overthinking jing yuan eagerly awaits your return home <3 this is just mostly jing yuan monologue cause the reader doesn't appear before the end but <3 i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you all for your patience !! hopefully i'll update a bit more from now!

If you were to tap a Xianzhou citizen on the shoulder and ask for their opinion on the dozing general of the Luofu, they would describe him as a wise and benevolent general, a bit too easy-going for his position, a cat lover and an advocate that everyone should have 3 hot meals each day.

They would never describe the general of the Luofu as someone who would openly show his emotions.

And yet, on a seemingly normal sunny afternoon on the Luofu, tucked into a corner of Cloudford in what should be a normal port for any ship carrying cargo from other worlds to dock for the day - stands the general of the Xianzhou Luofu, alone.

It’s a weird sight, the general has nothing to do with cargo transportation - let alone overseeing any new ships coming to dock upon the Luofu for the day unless it was a fellow general or the marshal themselves.

Yet here he was, often times leaning a bit too close to the edge of the dock to scavenge any new ships coming to land in this specific area that’s unoccupied, his free hand that’s not propping his whole body on the railing is busy fiddling around with his phone - he occasionally unlocks it to re-read the message that’s been left open ever since this morning, scrounging for anything new - to see if you’ve edited the message to another location.

But it’s still the same, even after the 7th time he’s read the message.

“There’s a bit more cargo than we expected from the marshal, so instead of landing at the usual dock at Starskiff Haven, we’re going to dock at the northernmost dock in Cloudford. We should arrive before the delegations from Zhuming and Yaoqing, but remember to greet them if they come here before me!”

Jing Yuan let out a long sigh, stuffing his phone back into his pocket before looking around the dock. It’s hardly an appropiate place to greet you back, surrounded by boxes upon boxes of either different furniture or weapons for the Cloud Knights - maybe even some souvenirs from the various traders that have settled in Luofu.

You should be greeted by the vast open sky that you’ve loved to see in Luofu each morning when you wake up by his side, watch the various starskiffs soar in the sky while the wind graces you with the various leaves adorned throughout the Luofu - all while glancing back at him with the same gentle smile you’ve greeted him for the past hundred years.

The ever so aloof general lets out a sigh, bringing a hand up to run through his more than usual messy bangs to keep his mind away from the thoughts of you, “You would’ve nagged me for letting my hair become even more unruly if you saw me now…”

It did not work at all.

Maybe he can convince Qingzu to arrange a specific port in Cloudford just for you, but that would only make both you and her regard him with disappointment at where he puts the resources of Luofu at - although he can see the glint of affection that crosses your eyes whenever he jokingly suggests building your entire private port so that you’re not mobbed by the citizens each time you come back from your own delegations.

Jing Yuan takes one more glance towards the phone he had just pocketed, how can that it’s only been 2 mere minutes after he last checked? He swears it must’ve been a system hour at least since he’s arrived at the dock.

Maybe something had happened, you’re usually on time after all. Is the traffic to enter Luofu bigger than the usual? Granted the Wardance was just announced and a lot of people from all over have come to finally step foot into Luofu again after the stellaron incident. But you usually predicted this and would arrive even earlier to be on time. Maybe he should contact Yukong and see if there’s any-

His racing mind comes to a screeching halt when he hears the familiar roar of the starskiff engine turn to a mere hum near him - the sound much closer than the starskiffs flying above him.

For some reason, he did not dare look up - Of course the northernmost dock wasn’t just meant for your ship to land, numerous others had already landed here before. Aeons above, he had greeted another cargo ship who were pleasantly surprised to see his appearance when he had first entered the area after all.

Jing Yuan could feel his palms sweat the tiniest bit, and suddenly he was actuely aware that he kept bouncing back and forth on his heels - something he even thought to himself was unknown behaviour from him. He had after all, never been this giddy or nervous to meet someone at all.

But then again, ever since you’ve arrived in his life - he’s shown sides of himself he didn’t know was there at all.

Oh dear, I’ve sure been spoiled by them.

Before he can derail even more into his thoughts, his downcast gaze is suddenly locked with your own curious ones, a raised eyebrow and lips jutting out a tiny bit in concern.

And suddenly, Jing Yuan feels his entire body relax, his tense shoulders finally slack and he exals deeply - which in turn makes you even more confused. “Jing Yuan? What are you even doing out- woah!”

You’re not able to even finish your question before your lover lifts you up with seemingly no effort, a gleeful smile paints his lips and his eyes crinkle the tiniest bit at the corners. The sudden upwards movement makes you yelp a tiny bit, immediately putting your hands on his shoulders in reflex while a light dust of red covers your cheek at the display of affection, “Jing-!”

But you can already tell he’s not listening to you at all, gently setting you down on the ground again before his arms wrap around your lower waist, fingers pressing against your lower back to press your body further into his own - completey ignoring the snickering Cloud Knights behind the two of you who have become used to the general display of affection towards you.

“… How was your trip, dear?” he finally asks, resting his forehead against yours for a brief second to let you breathe. You let out a sigh in return, raising your arm to place a hand on his cheek - Jing Yuan immediately leaning against it before turning his head to peck your palm, “You already know how it’s been, no? I’ve sent you updates each morning and night after all.”

Jing Yuan merely hums, gliding his lips down towards your wrists before he leans his body closer to your own to nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling softly, “Dear, you know I appreciate hearing about your day rather than reading a bunch of text.”

The little laugh you let out makes Jing Yuan let out a little giggle himself, but you feel his hold tighten around you when you try to squirm away from him, “Now, now - I haven’t seen you for months now, beloved. Don’t try to run away now.”

“Jing Yuan if you haven’t noticed we are still in public-” you try to reason, but your lover doesn’t listen, reduced to a mere overgrown cat in your presence as he tries to get even closer to your own body - there’s barely any room between your for air to even pass between the two of you.

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, gripping the arms around your waist to at least make him lessen the grip he has on you, "Jing Yuan, at least let me-"

“I missed you,” he finally whispers silently, and all your previous squirming comes to a halt when you feel the slight tremble in his voice. And it’s only when you register that tremble do you realize that his hands that are splayed by your neck to keep you in place are shaking ever so slightly, “… More than I thought I would.” he confesses, to your ears only.

You let out a light huff, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hand into his hair so you can tuck his face further into your neck, leaning your cheek against his hair, “I’m home, Jing Yuan.” you confirm, turning your head to peck the top of his head once.

Like he understood your request immediately, Jing Yuan leans back to face you once again, a slight guilty look on his features for subjecting you to a situation he knows you deem a bit uncomfortable. But the smile you give him relieves him of his troubling thoughts. You shake your head silently, a quiet answer to his equally silent apology before you cradle both his cheeks in your hands to keep him in place before slotting your lips over his own. He lets out a small sigh into your mouth, pressing his lips firmly against your own before parting slightly, the gentle, easy-going smile you're used to seeing back on his lips. “Welcome home, my dear.”

[rueclfer]

saturdays are for the blondes // fratboy smau part three

a/n: bakugou probs gives the bare fucking minimum as a frat boy like barely participates in the campaigns and rushes/recruitments and the only reason why he hasn't gotten booted yet is bc he's frat president kirishima's scary dog best friend and helps him make decisions lmao *written under cut*

denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, hawks

"Embarrassing how much effort I put in for a man who doesn't even want me." You dramatically sigh as you gently tilt Katsuki's head back by his chin, and holding the opening of a chilled bottle of water up to his lips.

Walking out to see him alone under the dim buzzing light barely hanging onto to the roof and hunched over a bush with his palm pressed against the side of the frat house to hold himself up was a sad sight for you to see, but you couldn't help but enjoy the rare humiliation.

He scowls and swats your hand away, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand.

"The fuck are you talking about?" He coughs into the collar of his shirt.

"What? Am I wrong?" You press your lips together, suppressing a growing smile, and setting the empty bottle on the window ledge beside you

He rubs his temple in annoyance, clearly not near sober enough to have a conversation about his feelings. "Irritating as fuck is what you are."

With the noise of the party and thumping music leaking from inside of the house, you two were left alone by yourselves in the side yard with the occasional person or two stepping out for a smoke or to vomit.

"I'm just teasing, Kats." You chuckle, reaching up to rake your fingers through the sweaty strands of hair glued to his forehead. "It's not that serious."

"I told you not to come out here, didn't I?" He mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the wall.

"Well, Denki's occupied with the other brothers and I'm not going to leave you out here yacking in the bushes."

He remains silent for a moment, lazily intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your hands from side to side.

"Dumbass." He murmurs under his breath. "Too nice for your own good."

"Trust me, I know." You roll your eyes. "Let's get you to your room? You look like you might drop any second." You attempt to wiggle your hand out of his iron grasp.

"It's too god damn loud in there." He groans "Stay here with me."

His flushed cheeks and swollen lips made his usual scowl falter into a perpetual pout, making your nerves twitch and it impossible to say no to him.

"You're not scared of anyone seeing us like this? Being so close? Me taking care of you?" You peer around for any sign of watching eyes.

"Like it matters. Everyone knows you're mine- or they should at least." He tightens his grip on your hand.

"Yeah? Prove it, then" You challenge, sparking a quirk of interest in his eyes.

A lazy smirk grows on his lips as he looks down at you through his lashes, scanning every corner of your face before he pulls you in against his chest and leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

"You wanna give everyone inside a show or some shit?" He mutters against your lips, peppering kisses in between every few words. "Give me 10 minutes with you out here and I can sober up real fuckin quick."

"That, or also," You wrap an arm around his torso, and the other slapping a hand over his mouth, pushing his face away. "you can ask me out on a date, dipshit."

He narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brows in the process.

"Nu uh. No fucking way. You don't want to go out with me."

"Yuh huh." You mock his drunken childish tone, keeping your hand clasped over his mouth. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I think I love you." He muffles behind your hand. "So that'll be a fucking wreck for both of us."

"Wha-"

He pulls your hand away from his mouth and cuts you off with his lips with more desperation and force as he pulls you closer to him by the back of your neck and grip around your waist.

An efficient way to shut you up.

"Don't remind me about that tomorrow, alright?" He mutters against your lips, knowing well that if there's one thing his mind will cling onto in this drunken state, it'll be this moment with you in the side yard where your cheeks are perfectly flushed from the alcohol and cold nice breeze, your hands all over him, and his heart racing as he admit to you and himself for the first time that he loves you.

[zerocoded]

summary: headcannons of what caleb is like in bed.

authors note: help me i need him chronically. this is my opinion babes! i can't shut my brain off when it comes to him anymore. waiting for the 22nd to come is like waiting for my husband get back from war. everything here is what i read about his character so far, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw content • minors dni • SMUT • talks about size kink, teasing, fingering with his prosthetic bla bla, idk what else. A LOT. • this is basically word vomit, i'm sorry.

word count: 1.2k

caleb might be more conscious of his touch, especially with his bionic arm, carefully adjusting his strength to ensure comfort and gentleness.

i KNOW bro can’t keep his grunts down, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

he wants to consume you entirely, like occupy your every thought and feeling when getting intimate with you.

he’s a sucker for your reactions, so attentive to the point it makes you shy.

ALSO he’s so big—like everything about him is just massive. we know that already, right? sometimes HE forgets.

i just got a feeling that caleb's bed is enormous, like king-size for real, made for someone his size. like BIG BIG. because he's a big boy.

he kind of doesn’t fully grasp how strong he is or how big he is compared to you, like the first time he closed his hands around your throat, he gave you whiplash.

everything in his apartment is set high to accommodate him, and you struggle with it constantly.

his frame completely consumes you, overwhelming but in a way that feels safe.

one time, tara walked in on the two of you mid-moment, she was sleeping on your apartment for some reason and caleb came from the farspace fleet really missing you. she asked caleb where you were, and he just casually said "here," while tara bolted out, flustered beyond belief when she realized what was going on.

you were literally UNDER him and to anyone passing, it looked like he was alone lol.

you two have little banter all the time, thanks to growing up together as childhood friends.

tell me i'm not getting too ahead of time, but i gotta say this. when you’re pregnant, caleb has this habit of saying “shush, i’m talking to the baby” every time he rests his head on your belly.

THAT'S SO CUTE, RIGHT? URGH.

he loves being in control – not in a domineering way, but because he wants to make sure you feel completely taken care of. he’s meticulous, learning what you like and pushing those boundaries just enough to drive you wild.

his size is an obsession for him – he’s hyperaware of how much bigger he is compared to you, and he uses it to his advantage. holding your wrists in one hand, pinning you beneath him, or just the way his body completely overshadows yours—it gets him going every time.

he’s vocal, but only for you – low grunts, whispered praise, and occasionally losing control with a deep growl when you hit just the right spot. but he’s also hyperaware of how you react, loving every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

a possessive streak – he doesn’t say it outright, but the way his hands grip your hips or how he marks your skin with kisses is all about claiming you. his touch lingers, even when you’re just walking around afterward.

obsessed with eye contact – he insists you look at him, especially in your most vulnerable moments. “keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, his gaze locking you in place as if the world outside the two of you doesn’t exist.

an absolute tease – he loves winding you up, taking his time until you’re begging him to stop playing around. slow kisses down your neck, feather-light touches that leave you trembling—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

his hands – they’re huge and rough, but his touch is incredibly gentle when he wants it to be. he loves how your body reacts to the contrast, and he uses it to his full advantage, whether he’s tracing your spine or gripping your thighs.

THE BIONIC ARM? OH MY GAWD.

he really hates the fact that he can't feel you - at all. but his prosthetic can come in handy sometimes 😏

he could use his arm’s advanced capabilities, like adjustable pressure or vibration, to focus on your pleasure, experimenting with new sensations. GUYS I HAD TO SAY IT.

i just know he teases you gliding the cool metal over warm, flushed skin and eliciting shivers of delight.

not him using it like your own personal vibrator. turning on subtle vibrations during a kiss or when he's fingering you.

he LOVES to explore areas like the neck, back, or thighs, using varying pressures to heighten your sensitivity.

aftercare king – he’s all about making sure you feel safe and comfortable afterward.

he’s a little shy about certain things – despite his confidence, there are moments when he feels self-conscious, like when you run your fingers along the scars on his body. but your touch soothes him, and he grows to crave the intimacy of being vulnerable with you. again, his prothetic can become a insecurity of him on these times.

unexpectedly playful – he likes to keep things fun, especially when the mood is light. sneaky touches, biting your ear just to hear you squeak, or pulling you onto his lap when you least expect it.

easily undone by you taking control – as much as he loves being in charge, when you take the lead, he absolutely melts. seeing you confident and assertive makes him lose every ounce of his composure. I JUST KNOW HE LOVES IT.

praise kink on both sides – he loves telling you how good you’re being, how beautiful you are, and how perfect you feel. but he’s also weak for your praise—if you tell him how much you want him or how amazing he’s making you feel, it’s game over.

a sucker for your scent – burying his face in your neck or your hair is his favorite thing. he associates your scent with safety and home, and it’s an instant comfort for him, even when things heat up. i just know he missed you so much while he was gone.

light experimentation – he’s always willing to try new things if it means making you happy. he might be cautious at first, but your enthusiasm has a way of bringing out his adventurous side.

he’s an absolute wreck for soft moments – when you’re tender and loving, gently tracing his features or whispering sweet things, it undoes him completely. he’s all about intensity, but those quiet, intimate moments leave him weak in the knees.

he’s competitive – if you ever tease him or play hard to get, he rises to the challenge, determined to win you over every single time. and when he does, he’ll make sure you know it.

obsessed with your reactions – he watches your every move, cataloging the way your body arches, the sounds you make, and the way your breath catches. nothing escapes his attention, and he uses that knowledge to drive you to the brink.

neck kisses – his favorite spot to tease and mark. he loves the way you shiver when his lips brush over that sensitive spot just below your ear.

secretly loves when you’re a little rough – tugging on his hair, biting his shoulder, or leaving marks on his skin? he thrives on the proof of how much you want him. it’s like a badge of honor for him.

he’s insanely attentive to detail – he remembers everything you like, from the way you gasp when he kisses your collarbone to how your breathing changes when you’re close. he uses that knowledge to make sure you’re always completely satisfied.

i need to write about him loving us ASAP, bye.

author's note: i came up with these while trying to write for caleb's love language (the thrid chapter) and i thought i could use it as a solo post hehe. see you guys next! send me a request • my masterpost

[reddtulips]

something something ghoap staying at johnny’s family farm that’s less than two hours away from glasgow.

they barely reach the damn place because simon insists on driving and takes a wrong exit on the highway and johnny has to piss a hundred times during the drive.

the air is crisp and cold and frosts the tips of their noses and simon forces indifference when johnny’s fingers brush simon’s to hold the duffel bag so he can close the trunk of the car.

johnny knocks on the front door and his mother rips it open, hugging his son and without a second to think, hugs simon as well and ushers them inside.

johnny’s father is a simple man and gives simon a firm handshake and a pat on his back and shows him the dining room, a feast set on the table and every salad under the sun overflowing in hand painted bowls that johnny’s mother made when she did pottery ten years ago.

johnny’s sisters are there, his niece and nephews as well, all children and simon sweats thinking how in the hell he is supposed to talk to them. are the boys at the appropriate age to know about guns and knives? or do they look at encyclopedias of greek mythology and dinosaurs? does the niece like barbie and dress up? or is she one of those girls that like to collect bugs and draw hopscotch on the pavement with colorful chalk and wipe the excess from her fingers onto her pants?

they watch him with eager eyes and giggles smothered behind tiny hands, and watch in awe when he lifts his balaclava to expose his mouth so he can eat.

johnny does the talking at the table and simon can’t understand a fucking word he’s saying because he’s gone full scottish with his family, only hums and nods occasionally. he wolfs down every piece of food, the human trashcan that he is (and because he doesn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal), and nearly combusts for a second time that day as johnny’s mam places a plate with a thick slice of apple pie in front of him, vanilla ice cream melting over it and puts a hand on his shoulder, “johnny told me ye have a sweet tooth, so i made it especially for ye.”

simon who does silent breathing exercises so he doesn’t cry because he misses this so fucking much. to sit down with a family and enjoy a meal together with loved ones and not fight, nor scream nor yell nor cry nor throw food nor break plates and it’s just laughter upon laughter upon claps on the shoulders and clutching at arms and pulling each other into side hugs and light jabs that mean nothing and don’t break into full blown fights and simon thinks he’s going to vomit.

simon who gets to see johnny’s childhood bedroom. it’s decorated in superhero posters and hanging medals and trophies from gymnastics and competitive shooting competitions. johnny turns sheepish when simon points them out, teases him and likes and fears the swirl of warmth in his chest when johnny’s ears and neck turn red. he’s told “still a better shot than you,” and if johnny were anyone else, he’s be given toilet cleaning duties for the next three months.

simon who wants to pull out and empty every drawer, check every nook and cranny and learn and suck in every single piece of information and story there is about johnny and what — there’s pictures of you as a kid? with a mohawk? fuck off, soap, lemme see.

johnny opens the left door of his wardrobe and it’s covered in baby pictures of him and his family and simon’s chest tightens but he doesn’t break his gaze. Lo and behold, Johnny points out a picture on top and holy shit, it’s him holding a fat, orange cat the size of half his body and he’s sporting a long mohawk. His cheeks are stained with tears but there’s a forced grin on his face and blood on his chin. johnny explains it was his 7th birthday, he fell off a swing, hit his chin and his mam still wanted a photo. the cat’s named ‘fergus’ and he’s still alive and has lost most of the weight. he explains more photos but simon’s eyes keep coming back to the first one and he just wants to lean down and leave a gentle kiss on the scar covering johnny’s chin.

the kids don’t leave simon alone, as much as uncle johnny protests and tells them to get tae and let ‘em rest, he’s been drivin’ all mornin’ but watches them from the kitchen with a soft smile as simon walks around with the kids hanging and clutching at his strong arms like they’re monkeys and simon can’t get enough of their giggles and ooh’s and ahh’s when he tells them heroic and child-friendly war stories about their uncle. he also tells them that he sucks ass at taking orders and sharing his MREs and that they should listen to their parents and respect their elders and share with each other. johnny smothers a grin behind his hand as simon uses his lieutenant’s voice when speaking to the kids about these things.

johnny steals simon away then, “gotta show ‘em the horses”, and simon keeps his distance and doesn’t dare get up on one of them. the cockiest, “scared, Lt.?” with a shit-eating grin from johnny makes him grab the reigns and climb on. johnny leads the horse down the field and they fall into a comfortable silence. simon can’t get enough of the peace and quiet and chirping of birds and gentle yet chilly breeze on his hands and johnny is suddenly coming to a halt.

simon looks down at his sergeant, and his cheeks are flushed red and there’s determination and well-masked hesitation in his blue eyes and before simon knows it, he’s being pulled down by the sleeve of his jacket and johnny is cupping the sides of his face and pressing a gentle kiss over the material of simon’s mask. it’s innocent, quick, almost like it doesn’t even happen and isn’t registered. but their gazes meet when they part and it’s over for both of them because simon is fervently pushing his mask up and cupping johnny’s cheeks and they’re both leaning forward again and pressing kiss upon kiss upon kiss on each other’s lips and simon finally thinks,

i’ve found it. i’ve found home.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Wet the Bed

AN: i love writing these stories where something happens in the middle of the night to either y/n or their children. they're oddly comforting. i hope you enjoy. xoxo

This story contains: bed wetting, crying, comfort, mostly fluff

{ dadrry - husband!harry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 1,173

Harry's son, Oliver, accidentally wets the bed in the middle of the night and is forced to wake up his dad for help.

The atmosphere in the house was quiet on this Thursday night. The only sounds that could be detected were the ticking of the large clock on the living room wall and the soft breaths of Harry as he slept alone in him and his wife's bed. (Y/n was on a business trip this week for her work and would return the following day.) Yet, at approximately three a.m., this peacefulness comes to an unexpected halt.

Down the hall from Y/n and Harry's bedroom was the room of their four-year-old son, Oliver. He'd been enjoying a restful sleep until he woke up to discover he'd accidentally wet himself. While Oliver is potty trained, he still experiences the occasional night-time mishap, an issue that Harry and his wife are trying to work on with their son. Since such accidents are a common part of childhood, they handle them with care and understanding.

Upon realizing that his pajama pants and bedding were wet with urine, Oliver's left with no choice but to climb out of his small twin size bed and walk to his parents' room down the hall. When he arrives at the door, he slowly turns the doorknob and steps into the darkened bedroom. Knowing his mum wasn't home, he quietly carries his tiny feet to his dad's side of the bed.

As Oliver stands beside the bed where Harry lies asleep, he realizes just how nervous he is about waking up his dad. Although Harry's never been anger when awakened in the middle of the night, the task still feels intimidating to his four year old self. Nevertheless, Oliver reaches out his small hand and begins to tap gently on his father's tattooed arm.

Harry jolts awake after feeling his arm being touched, and looks down to see his four year old son standing there. He sits up in bed and asks in a gravelly voice, "Ollie, what's the matter, baby? Got sick? Or had a bad dream?"

Oliver shakes his head no, now scared of his dad's reaction to the truth. He hadn't had an accident in almost six months and he's slightly older now. His dad might get upset with him.

"What is it, baby? Gotta tell daddy so I can help you."

Biting the bullet, Oliver replies quietly, "I had accident, daddy. Didn't mean to." Then out of nowhere, he starts crying, unable to control his young emotions.

Harry gets off the bed and kneels in front of Oliver, placing his hands gently on his son's shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. M' not mad or upset, baby. It's gonna be okay. Let's get you all cleaned up in your bathroom and I'll change your sheets, alright. Come on." He carefully reaches for Ollie's hand and guides him back to his room down the hall.

By the time they enter Oliver's bathroom, his crying has mostly stopped, though you could hear the occasional hiccup coming from his throat, and his eyelashes remained damp. Harry begin filling the bathtub up with warm water and helps Oliver remove his wet pajamas. Then after guiding his son into the warm bath water, he leaves the bathroom to change Ollie's soiled sheets.

Harry actually appreciates that it's only urine that dirtied Oliver's bedding tonight. He much prefers to change sheets that are stained with pee rather than those that've been soiled by vomit, a situation he's encountered on numerous occasions as a father so far. After replacing the wet sheets with a clean set, Harry returns to the bathroom to observe his son playing with the little mermaid dolls that he and Y/n had gifted him for Christmas, now serving as bath toys.

Oliver looks up at his father from his place in the bathtub and whines, "M' tired, daddy." It was three o'clock in the morning after all.

With a look of sympathy crossing his face, Harry kneels on the soft rug that's in front of the tub to help his son, Ollie, wash up. "I know, baby. Lets clean you off and then I'll tuck you back into bed." Oliver sits patiently in the bath water as his father uses his watermelon-scented body wash for kids to clean over his body. After that's done, he helps him step out of the bathtub and onto the bathmat to dry off. Ollie stands there, dripping and shivering, as his dad quickly grabs a towel from the stack located beneath the bathroom sink.

Harry softly acknowledges the cold, saying, "I know, I know. It's cold innit, baby" After drying Oliver off, he wraps him in the towel and lifts him effortlessly, before carrying him back to his bedroom to dress him in fresh clothing. Harry assists Ollie in putting on a dry pair of underwear and his Spiderman pajamas.

As Harry goes to place Oliver back into his now freshly made bed, the four year old begs, "Can I please sleep with you, daddy?"

Being aware that his son doesn't have a huge habit of sleeping with him and his wife, he nods in agreement. Oliver is generally good at sleeping in his own bed. So, on the rare occasions he does ask to join them, they usually agree. "Okay, buddy. Come on."

Harry gently lifts Oliver, now fully dressed, and proceeds from his son's room towards the bedroom he shares with his wife, right down the hall. Upon entering, he walks over to the king-sized bed and carefully places Ollie in the center before settling back into the covers on his side. After turning off the lamp, which makes the room envelop with darkness, he closes his eyes, preparing for sleep. However, he's interrupted by Oliver's small voice.

"Miss mummy."

Harry turns over to face his son and replies, "I know, baby. She'll be home tomorrow, though. The quicker we go back to sleep, the quicker we can see her, alright."

Ollie nods in understanding and demands, "Hold me, daddy."

Harry laughs before scooting closer to him to do just that. "Of course I'll hold you. Love you so much." He wraps his tattooed arms tightly around his four year old son's tiny body and they both begin to drift off to sleep.

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

The next morning, Y/n enters a quiet home, having just returned from her business trip. Although it's still somewhat early, she notes that Harry's normally awake by this time. Perhaps he had trouble falling asleep, she thinks to herself. She walks up the stairs and gently opens the door to their bedroom, discovering not only her husband peacefully sleeping on the bed, but also their son, Oliver.

Oliver was comfortably sprawled across Harry's chest, his tiny face nestled against his father's neck. Meanwhile, Harry lays spread-eagled in the middle of the bed. Y/n takes a moment to capture a quick photo with her phone before heading back downstairs, allowing her boys to enjoy some well-deserved rest. When they awake, she'll learn what occured in the middle of the night that created the need for that much needed sleep.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[tsuyalovebot]

don't make me wait forever.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

cw: sfw. semi-prominent reader characterization (spoiled, occasional use of she/her pronouns, referred to as a "little sister" once). kisses. casual touches. throat holding (both by reader and by caleb). use of "older brother" to address caleb (not by reader). pipsqueak as a term of endearment. reader wears makeup. some spoilers from tender moments, memoria, and bond story. caleb typical warnings (manipulation if you squint).

wc: roughly 3-4k words. unnecessary word vomit.

author's note: a man who yearns is a man who EARNS. hi, it's me again! i had an idea and had to bring it to life. enjoy! ( ^ -. ^ )

Caleb wasn't lying when he said he spoiled you too much as children.

You didn't quite get it at first—he was nothing but sweet with the occasional menace during childhood, sure, but he didn't spoil you spoil you.

You were leaning into his chest, eyes closed while listening to the TV in the background as his large arm wraps itself around your waist. Tucking you against him, feeling his lips against the crown of your head.

"I baby you too much," he sighed, a mellow cheeriness beneath his words.

"And yet, you sound so happy over it," you grumbled. Sleep is so close yet so far, and you'd been squirming around in search of the closest boarding gate. His touch delicate as he pulled you onto his lap.

You snuggled closer on instinct. Picking up on the faint smell of sandalwood and something finer, richer. There was movement on your back, Caleb's palm stroking up and down, while the other held you by the back of your neck like an infant.

"I spoiled you, too."

You frowned, looked at him blearily. "Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh." He pushed your head back onto his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

Sure, Caleb took extensive measures to ensure your comfortable upbringing with him. But you weren't spoiled.

Right?

But you go on your first date with someone that isn't him, and it kind of hits. Making an offhanded comment about how the water temperature was more cold than warm—you asked for room temp—doesn't result in your date immediately requesting another glass or them buying you bottled water from the convenience store across the restaurant.

Instead, you're told, "they probably forgot, it's fine" and the date continues. You watch the condensation form on your glass quietly. Every rational droplet is speaking to your acrid gut feeling—it's just water. It'll be room temperature eventually.

Later on, your date messages you. They asked if you got home safely, all the while you'd been drinking a glass of lukewarm water in Caleb's dining room. You pressed block once you heard his familiar, curious voice asking how the date went.

"It was meh." And you asked for another glass.

Another time, you'd been hanging out with old high school friends as a simple gathering. Though, you hadn't expected that it would lead to seemingly endless anecdotes in relation to you. Over fruit smoothies and café pastries, they'd all been exchanging stories once the conversation turns over to yourself in high school.

"Remember when she would always ask us to do stuff?" One girl laughed, cutting into her french toast.

Another cleared her throat, exaggerating her voice into a falsetto, "hey, can you get me a bun from the cafeteria? Oh, there's no more? Then, a banana milk and whatever pastry they have."

It earned a crackle of laughter along the table of five people. You, the object of discussion, smiling at the head of the table. Rather awkwardly, too, as you sipped on your drink.

"You forgot to add on the "you can do that at least, right?" at the end!"

"Oh, oh, the sulking too, if you don't do it!"

"She'd always complain about our fans, too."

"Oh my God, yeah. "Why does your fan battery run out so quickly? Did you not charge it?" Like, hello?"

One of the girls face you amidst the active exchange, grinning. Despite the recollection of your nature in the past, they weren't mad. Simply taking the entertainment value in it.

"Don't worry," and she said your name, placing a hand over yours on the table.

"You've got an older brother, right? It may have been annoying, but we're friends. You were like, our little sister."

A muscle in your jaw ticked. His face popped up in your face and you wanna punch him, despite him being nowhere near you at the time of this event. But, you laughed and nodded; acquiescing to her reassurance was easier this way.

It slipped out once more when you go out for movies with Tara. It's the same theater you and Caleb always frequented before. You already swiped your card for payment of movie food, and had besn walking to the screening room.

"Tara, can you check the bucket? Make sure it has enough butter on it?"

"Hm? Okay," she replied. While you scrolled on your phone, you heard the plastic lid of the bucket pop open.

"Seems good to me. You check."

When you move your attention over to the bucket, you're met with mediocre-looking buttered popcorn. The golden syrup of butter scattered over the pieces. You frowned. Since when were they so shy about buttering literal corn?

You stopped walking, brows furrowed. "It's so... pale. Let's go back and ask for more, I didn't pay for that."

"Huh? Oh, okay?" You didn't really register Tara's confused tone of voice until after you had a spat with the person at the popcorn station.

It was some moody teen probably working minimum wage. He was scowling while you talked about the butter portioning.

He sneered, "over some popcorn? Really? Were you that spoiled as a kid?"

It winded you. Tara was pulling at your arm, seeming to try and hold you back despite you being frozen. The manager came out once the commotion seems to stop, only because you were gobsmacked.

He'd been apologizing profusely to you and Tara upon recognizing you both as hunters; his eyes had landed on you with so much familiarity. He's probably been working here for a decade or so. Long enough to have previously seen you and Caleb at movie screenings.

Tara's at the butter dispenser of the self-service station—something they closed over half a decade ago apparently, but frantically opened for today, coincidentally—with you behind her when she finally spoke

She was a bit bewildered, but it was easy to pick up the lighthearted tone. "I didn't take you for the pampered type. That was the normal amount of butter on popcorn for most places."

You shook your head. "No, it wasn't. I was a regular here in the past. Every time we got a bucket of popcorn, they were always so generous with the salted butter."

"By yourself?"

"No, with my friend."

There'd been a pause between you two. She pressed the lid back into place and begun shaking it, the popcorn rattling. Then, she turned to you, like she knew something that you didn't.

"And you never once thought this friend scared the employees into putting extra butter for you back then?"

It always went back to him.

Whenever you'd go to a colleague's place and bore holes into the crooked cuts of the apple slices on a plate, you found yourself recalling Caleb's expert cuts. These ones weren't even red delicious apples.

You're a bit peeved when the food from the monthly catering service at the Association doesn't taste the same way that Caleb makes it, even though the food is the same kind and recipe.

Your next trip to Skyhaven is definitely highly anticipated. You're been exhausted and haggard for the past few days. It only amplifies as the day stretches on, grimacing when Caleb opens the door. He's surprised to see you, panting and sweaty in his white tanktop. Fresh from a workout, most likely. It makes you a bit, a tiny bit, mad.

"Pipsqueak? What's the occasion?"

"You," you hiss, releasing your hold on your suitcases. You kick off your shoes as you push your way into his place, pointing an accusing finger to his chest.

Caleb's confused. It's clear in the furrow of his brow and frantic blinking that his synapses are doing rapid fire checking of what today is, what he's said or done recently, what stores are on sale, and what snacks you need.

Despite being the one who said he himself spoiled you, he clearly has no idea how it's manifested in your life, and it pisses you off even more.

"I'm the occasion?" He squawks, confused. "It's too early for my birthday—"

"You and your stupid past self. I should have your head on a stake," you bark, slamming your fists onto his pecs, pushing him further into his own home.

He laughs a bit, still completely in the dark, but his voice gets a bit more pitchy.

He leans down, cranes his gargantuan ass down to your height. It's polite. You know this, he's done it countless times. But your gut speaks to you. You're going to throttle him.

"Huh? What did I do?"

"You piss me off!"

His face softens with concern. His hands come up, ghosting over yours. He murmurs your name—

Then you're gripping him by the neck. You get to drink in the way his eyes widen to saucers as your fingers delicately wrap around his throat, palms on either side. You don't squeeze, and instead, aggressively shake him. "Pipsqueak?"

"You spoiled me!" You shriek, voice shrill with accusation.

Frustration, the buildup from the past couple of weeks comes to full fruition in this very moment. It's only for a split second that you see realization dawn on Caleb's face before you continue yelling.

"I relied on others to get me snacks because of you, I complain over batteries because of you, now I want specific water temperatures, I can't stand pale popcorn because you demanded extra butter, I'm picky over food—"

"Hey—"

"Don't you hey me, mister!" You jut your finger up at his face, and he shuts his mouth instantly. "I'm like this, because of you!"

You don't miss the glitter of mirth in those stupidly ethereal eyes of his, and it's wholly unreal how your anger amplifies when you notice his twitching lips. He found this funny.

"You're laughing?" You whisper, low and indignant. You squeeze his throat, feel his breath pass under the skin. Adrenaline riveting and real in the low thrum of your heartbeat.

"I'm here, devastated over the effect of your stupid actions on my life, and you're laughing?"

"Devastated?" Caleb echoes. The idiot sounded delighted over this. Like he was finding a great deal of validation in your admission.

A grin quirks his lips into its signature, charming curve, and he's leaning down into you some more. One of his hands sliding over yours with a gentleness only he could emulate. Your resolve stutters, and he's quick to take advantage of that.

"Oh, please, pipsqueak." He chuckles. "That's not true and you know it."

His fingers gently slide between the gaps of yours, making room for himself and filling the emptiness. Effectively peeling them away from his throat, and doing the same to the other hand. You relent, letting your arms hang loosely at your sides.

Caleb's still smiling when he takes a step forward, crowding your space now. It doesn't register that he's cornered you until your back is flat to the closed door and you're surrounded by him and everything about him.

The very man who's fed you every granule, acquainted you with the taste of having the world at your every whim. A charged zap runs up the base of your spine when he lifts your chin.

"If you were really devastated, you'd have come here cryin' instead. You'd be on your knees, weepin' over how I've ruined you. Not yelling and screaming and accusing me," he coos, sickly sweet. His thumb rubbing below your lower lip.

"Are you done? Do you feel better after getting it all off your chest?"

His gaze feels abysmal. Two pools of an oceanic depth, spatial and intergalactic and beyond your comprehension. Hungry.

Something darker lurks there. That one look that flickers in and out of conversations whenever you're close to him, or when the topic tilts into something that you know you shouldn't be touching. Like he's satiated, but still craving more and more. You feel small under it every time.

"Even a kid knows how to manipulate their guardian into givin' them what they want."

The double meaning, one of comparing you to an immature brat, isn't lost on you. Heat crawls up your skin as your cheeks round with the scrunch of your nose. Ready to retaliate with equal venom, even if his words weren't inherently insulting.

But, before you even could, the expression on his face stops you in your tracks.

It's like looking at the colonel. Caleb cocks his head to the side, expression clinically cold. "When someone is speaking, we?"

He stares. He's waiting for a response, you realize.

You finish his sentence, pacified. "We listen."

"Good. Seems you still have the manners I taught you."

Your face heats up.

That stupidly patient smile on his lips was grating on your nerves, far more than any revelation of his ingrained presence in your every action, thought, word, and emotion.

His thumb is soon pressed flush to your lips. He isn't prying it open like he did before, instead rubbing the pad of his thumb along your lips, caressing the divot of your cupid's bow. He's playing with the glossy texture and film of your lippie, smearing it past the corner of your lips.

The first thing you want to do is push him away. Shove him, hard, and make space between the two of you so that your train of thought could return. Yet, the softness that decorates his grape-colored irises was making you hesitate. He's an annoying guy, someone who gets on your nerves, with featherlight caresses and an admiration so sincere.

Rouge stains the pad of his digit when he draws it back. He's curious, his gaze thoughtful as he examines the pigment. Then, you're watching as he lifts it to his mouth with a deliberate kiss. Lashes fluttering over his cheekbones.

When he drops his hand, the scarlet pigment is smeared over his lips like a brand.

You're burning alive. You reach up, immediately trying to wipe it from his lips. "You—"

"Weirdo? I know." Caleb catches your hand with ease, beaming with half-lidded eyes. "Buuut, you're just as weird as me for lettin' me do that, y'know."

He's making a point. You're going to gut him alive, you think to yourself. In stealing an indirect kiss from you, he's replicating every scenario you've ever bared yourself to him. How easy it is, to melt in one's earnest wonder and affection, unable to say no.

In an attempt to regain your composure, you scowl with all the feigned vitriol you could muster. "You're even weirder for condoning my every action."

He cocks his head, like he was reloading a couple memories from the past. The countless times he let you get away with things.

"It's... not that easy for me, pipsqueak."

"Yes, it is." You huff and free your hand from his grip. Settling your palms flat over his chest, fingers curling into the stretchy fabric. "Telling me no couldn't have been that hard."

"Yeah?" He teases. "You think it's that simple for me?"

"Grandma could handle me."

Caleb deadpans at your mention of her, his face relaxing into something like bemusement.

"If Gran or I took away your stuffed animal to clean it, you'd kick and scream and cry. If I denied you of your favorite food or a candy apple, you'd say you hate me."

You blink. That wasn't the response you were expecting. All of a sudden, you feel like someone's wiped your mind of everything you've ever known, and redefined your recollections of childhood. Embarrassment crawls up your face in burning streaks.

"Gran could handle you?" He repeats, shakes his head with a sad look.

There's a pained aspect to his current physiognomy, the furrow of his brow, the deepened set of his mouth. "That's because it's her. Of course, she wouldn't mind your cries. But I did."

He crouches, and for a moment, it was as if he was falling. The sunlight filtered in through the glass of the door behind your head, catching on the nutty brown strands of his hair. Cradling his head against the junction of your neck and shoulder, hiding away his face.

"I didn't want you to hate me." He admits, the words fanned over your throat. You inhale deeply, and his familiar scent invades your senses. You hope that stupid central organ wasn't too loud, or else he'd hear the beating of your pulse working double time.

Caleb's a constant in your life. He was a pillar, from youth 'til now, that never failed to offer you assistance regardless of the circumstances. You knew him to be reliable, persistent, generous. Perhaps it plays into the way he's coated your teeth in sugar, nipping at your enamel in a thick film that tastes of sweetness.

Yet seeing him like this, frustrated and amused and annoyed—it was unfounded.

"I didn't know much." The vulnerability was low yet blaring. "I just knew I didn't want you to hate me. I knew I loved seeing you happy. And if I denied you, you weren't happy."

It's too black and white. So childish and simplified. It's an easygoing description of his feelings toward you during early youth, one that could easily be swallowed up and consumed by the nasty nature of the world.

Yet, you card your fingers through his hair. Press your lips to his temple all the same, and listen to his utterances.

Your bottom lip is jutting out before you can stop yourself. And in spite of his own admissions, the uncomfortable nakedness that comes with it, you mumble a pointed, "you made me high maintenance."

"You're only figurin' that out now?" He snickers against your skin and the subsequent vibrations make you jump. "Pipsqueak, everyone's known you're high maintenance."

You protest, "that's not true."

"Yes," he says, amused. "It is."

Peeling away from your neck, Caleb's face is less grave now. Relief floods your senses and you cup his face, smoothing over the corners of his lip to wipe away the frowns. There's a weight behind you that isn't the door, his palm a welcome touch as his fingers splay over the small of your back.

His other hand resting on the side of your throat, fingers resting on your nape and thumb rubbing the ridge of your jaw. The motion is soothing, and you close your eyes to memorize its rhythm.

"Even if you're high maintenance, I'm the one who caused it. Allegedly."

You bristle and your eyes fly open, "allegedly? There's proof—"

"Ah-ah."

Caleb's brows are raised on his forehead as you pipe down, amused by how quick you were to correct your behavior.

"Much better. As I was saying."

Despite the extra firmness to his voice, his touch on you was nothing short of gentle. Like your body was carved from marble, reinforced by a fragile porcelain, he does that thing where he tilts your head with the hand on your neck. His thumb rubbing your earlobe.

But the most violating part had to be those intense, smoldering eyes that beheld you with utmost priority. How did you ever think he didn't care for you?

Caleb's tone of voice is chiding. "You're high maintenance because of me, and that makes you mine to maintain."

He's talking down to you. Treating you like one would to a child learning how to tie their shoelaces, his voice chiseled with the vines of condescension. Heartbeat speeding in your chest, distinguishing your heartbeat from your rampant thoughts became far more difficult.

The little smile that's on his lips seems manic. Far away, distant, as you slide your hands over his pecs. A shudder ripples over your skin.

"After all, it's my fault for making sure you're comfortable. It's my fault for prioritizing you above all else, as children and as adults." He starts, chillingly calm. He shakes his head to himself with a deep sigh, and tilts your head back against the door. Examining you with an unblinking, almost detached visage. Yet, his words were anything but, thick with emotion.

You breathe slow, torturous inhales and exhales, feeling Caleb's hand wrap itself around your throat. Alarms ring out in the back of your mind—loud, incessant, disturbing, yet you close your eyes and let him hold you there.

He won't hurt you. He never would, intentionally.

Quietly, like a forbidden fruit to not be consumed or heard, he mutters, "it's my fault for wantin' nothing but the best for you, because it's what you deserve. Nothing less."

Oh, you breathe out.

There's absolutely no pressure to the way he holds your neck. His palm wasn't against the column of your throat, instead, the pads of his thick digits were clasping the skin with a touch so invisible it almost felt nonexistent. When you swallow, the flexed skin presses itself up to his touch.

"Do you really want me to take it back?" Caleb asks, breaking the momentary silence and taking you out of your thoughts.

You blank out for a moment too long. "What?"

"You came over to let me know I've spoiled you beyond reversing repair, without wantin' me to change?"

Why did you come over? Why did you decide to come up to Skyhaven one day, literally days away from your regular times of visiting him? Over something like this? Literal outdated information that you've only recently discovered.

Why? You don't know, but you're rushing to speak, holding onto his top. "That's not what I—"

"It's not what you what?"

He tilts his head down toward you and every coherent thought exits your headspace instantly. God, his eyes. They're darker now. Frustration brimming in the burning fuchscia, the indigo of his irises all-consuming.

"I can stop pamperin' you starting today." He offers.

The surfacing ache in your chest is abrupt, disruptive.

"Starting today, I won't buy your favorite snacks. I won't ever pat your head again. I'll leave you to fend for yourself in every fast food line, and you can get your own stuff when we go shopping. You can even do your shopping alone. Is that what you want?"

No. No, it's not what you want, but how do you express that? An entity, so puissant and arresting, is crawling up your esophagus, scraping at the backs of your teeth, trying to pry your mouth open, and wail its truth into the minimal distance between you and Caleb. It's an ugly feeling, one stripping you down to your base needs.

Pain bleeds into his expression, his eyes only softening as a thought crosses his mind. "Are you gonna tell me you don't need me again?"

"Caleb, no," you manage.

"If not, then what's the problem? It's too late. If I've ruined you, you've destroyed me."

You destroyed him? When? You've never... When have you ever—?

Your chagrin spikes in time with your bewilderment. "I never did anything like that."

Caleb peered into your eyes. Your soul. Questioning, a bit disbelieving. Like he can't really believe your own blindness. An incredulous laugh slipping through his nose when he realizes you weren't lying.

He takes a step forward. You're fully sandwiched between him and the door now, and one of his arms come up to rest above you on the surface. "Caleb–"

"I can't go through the grocery store without thinking of what you want for dinner." He admits, the revelation so tender and tied with candor. Your words die on your tongue and dissolve.

"I can't do my laundry anymore unless it's with your brand of fabric softener, since it reminds me of you. Every time I try on a new jacket, I wonder how it would look good on you."

The information comes pouring out of him like a geyser. And his voice is full of nothing but love. You press your hands to his chest with more force, but he won't budge. Your ears are scalding and you're avoiding his gaze now, his face.

"You dedicated a journal to me. You came to every basketball game." Caleb laughs, breathless. A little in awe of you, so full of adoration. "You always visited Skyhaven when I moved out. You pretended to be my girlfriend. You didn't want me to get a girlfriend. You kissed me at my graduation."

He stutters over himself at the end, sighing deeply and it's making your stomach do flips. "God, you kissed me."

Really? You're burning. Did he have to bring that up?

He's pulling you out of your thoughts yet again, using his hold on your yielding neck to find your gaze once more. You could crumble into ashes right now. In fact, you hoped the floor underneath you would just swallow you whole and leave nothing behind for Caleb to dissect.

"You're think you're spoiled, pipsqueak?" Another laugh, and it's mixed with raspy agony and disbelief, shining in his stare. "I'm rotten."

In Caleb's home, you never really heard much commotion. Simply the low hum of the television in the background, the living room a few paces away. Yet, your heartbeat was the soundtrack to his life, and he's made it his favorite ringtone.

You could feel his own racing heart under your palm. He looks defeated now, conflicted. Oh, Caleb.

"You never wanted me to take it back." He says it to himself. Like he's trying to get himself to believe it.

"You just wanted reassurance that I'd never leave you, no matter how coddled you are."

The heart that's thudding rapidly against your ribcage was so fickle, so naïve. It might jump out of your throat at this rate—God, Caleb could probably feel your pulse like this.

Your mind's racing. There's only one way you could resolve this rift formed from these series of revelations and confessions. You weren't going to lose him again. He has no right to leave after this.

"You're so quiet now. Don't tell me you're thinkin' of runnin' away, pipsqueak." His voice is lighter, more in jest now. The first sign of distance, denial.

You clasp his wrist, and whisper, "I'll take responsibility."

"What?"

"I'll take responsibility. For ruining you. In exchange, take responsibility for me too." You declare, louder. You sound more sure.

He's blinking at you now. Then, his brows furrow and a bewildered laugh leaves him. Before he could reply, you push forward, not allowing him any time to recover.

"I'm in your hands now, aren't I? You said so yourself. You did this to me. I did this to you. I'm yours to deal with."

You wind your arms around his neck, hearing how his breaths stutter and feeling his hand leave your throat. You're on your tippy toes, pulling him down so you could settle back against the door, feeling his grip settle over your waist. It's a lovely sensation. One so right. It cements your resolve.

"The only ones who can handle us are each other. Nobody else."

You don't know what you're saying anymore.

But you know you like the rising determination, you like whatever this is. You like the hope that swims in his gaze. The fear that's within them, terrified of this being one of your pranks. It wasn't; you'll prove it to hom.

"You can't make all these promises and leave me alone," You speak in a hushed tone, finality thick in the waver of your voice. You're leaning in before you can stop yourself and whispering, "I won't let you."

You can't help but feel like whatever game you two are playing now, you've lost. He's won yet again. Yet it doesn't quite feel like a loss this time around, not when Caleb's face is smoothing out into one of relief. One of contentment as he closes the distance.

The breath that fans over your mouth is hot and his voice is full of yearning, "I never planned on it."

[yiichan]

KYII'ᔕ TᕼOᑌGᕼTᔕ Oᖴ TᕼE ᗪᗩY 🌷💌 — ANGST

IMAGINE — friends!95line x gn!you.

WARNINGS — hanahaki au, vomiting,/puking, blood.

WRITER'S NOTES — since i got no time to write again here is some scenarios lol. and also let's have a break from NSFW guys please you're flooding my requests when i said that it's full ):

speical mention — @sousydive

back | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

YOU had a crush on Seungcheol for a very long time. You had been childhood best friends, attending the same schools together throughout your lives. You were there during his most vulnerable moments as well as his proudest achievements. Over time, Jeonghan and Joshua joined your little group, making it complete.

Jeonghan was like the Loki of your group, always coming up with sneaky ideas. Most of his shenanigans got the four of you in trouble, but you never once regretted them.

Joshua, on the other hand, was the calm one. He often watched as chaos unfolded (most of the time, it was between you and Seungcheol), occasionally deciding to join in. In those rare moments, you found yourself enjoying a different, more playful side of Joshua.

As you grew older, you began to realize your feelings for Seungcheol. Through all the time you’d spent together, you had fallen deeply in love with him. But on the day you finally gathered the courage to confess your feelings, fate had other plans.

Seungcheol confessed to you first—he was in love with Jeonghan.

You could only swallow your words as Seungcheol confided in you, sharing his feelings. A dull pain spread through your chest as you listened. When he asked for your support, you gave it without hesitation, even though it hurt.

Before long, the two of them started dating. You teased them alongside Joshua, masking the ache in your heart with laughter. But no matter how much you smiled, the pain lingered.

Then, one day, you noticed something strange. You began coughing up petals.

At first, you dismissed it. But as time went on, the pain in your chest grew more intense, and more petals emerged from your throat. You hid your condition from your friends, pretending everything was fine—when, in reality, it was anything but.

When the four of you graduated from high school, you made the excuse of wanting to study abroad. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua saw you off at the airport, and as your plane departed, you couldn’t help but feel a whirlwind of heartbreak, loss, and relief.

The separation helped, at least for a while. You avoided any news about Seungcheol and Jeonghan, choosing to text Joshua only when absolutely necessary. Over time, your condition seemed to improve; the frequency of petals appearing dwindled. Though you still coughed them up occasionally, you believed you were getting better.

But then Joshua sent you a wedding invitation—for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

The moment you saw the invitation, a wave of nausea overwhelmed you. Your phone slipped from your hand as you rushed to the bathroom. The retching was violent, your chest engulfed in excruciating pain.

Petals spilled from your mouth once again, now stained with vomit and streaked with blood.

You felt pathetic as you collapsed onto the cold tiles of your bathroom, clutching your chest. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

You were dying.

When you boarded the plane back to Seoul, you knew there would be no return for you.

At their wedding hall, you appeared thinner and sicker than Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua remembered. You approached your old friends with a brave smile, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes as you congratulated him and Jeonghan on their marriage. You also apologized for the long silence and loss of contact.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Seungcheol remarked, his hand brushing against yours. You discreetly recoiled from his touch, keeping a light smile on your face.

“I wasn’t really used to the food overseas, and work’s been overwhelming,” you replied simply.

Jeonghan pouted, his hand coming up to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said with concern.

You managed another faint smile, but the familiar metallic tang rose in your throat. You excused yourself quickly, slipping away to the bathroom.

In the first empty cubicle you could find, you fell to your knees and retched violently. Blood and petals spilled into the porcelain bowl as you clutched your chest, the pain tearing through you.

A warm hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you mid-breath. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as you slowly turned to look behind you.

Joshua stood there, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock as they darted between you and the mess in the toilet.

“You...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What’s going on? What's happening to you?"

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[03jyh23]

💬⌇like i need you part one┆ jeong yunho

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

│part two

non-idol!yunho x non-idol!reader

│synopsis: yunho's love for you burns fiercely. as lovers turned exes, he's left shattered when you leave, moving out of the apartment you once shared. his nights become a blur of desperation, calling you relentlessly, begging for another chance.

│genre: lovers to exes, angst

│(!)trigger warnings:  alcohol abuse, smoking cigarettes, emotional abuse, panic attacks, mental health issues, toxic relationships, vomiting, self-destructive behavior, emotional trauma

│words: 6.1 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! after an unholy amount of time I decided to continue with goes to waste series, i missed writing pure angst so much so... enjoy!!

love, mon♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │ @kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │ @hoeforalbedo │

│ @ateezswonderland │ @jycas│ @velvetskize │ @e3ellie │

│ @sertralinehoe │

"Yunho, we’re better off alone," you said with a voice that trembled as you were packing your suitcase in a hurry. "I can't do this anymore," you choked out the urgency to leave was overwhelming; you needed to get out of this apartment. The suffocating weight of guilt and pain made every breath a struggle. Your perfect life with him had become a beautiful prison, and you were desperately clawing your way out. Yunho was crying, his pretty eyes red and swollen from the endless stream of tears. Despite his emotional turmoil, his breathing remained eerily calm, almost as if he had resigned himself to this moment. Each piece of clothing you hastily stuffed into your suitcase, Yunho took out and threw on the floor, his actions a silent but desperate plea for you to reconsider. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the occasional sniffle from Yunho.

"I need you to stay," he said, his voice determined as he grabbed your wrist to stop you from taking any more of your belongings. His grip was firm but not painful, a testament to how desperately he wanted to hold on to you. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking as he grabbed your wrist. His touch was tender despite his desperation. "Baby, please don't go. Whatever I did, I'll fix it. I'll be better, I swear to fucking god, I'll do anything." The raw pain in his voice made your heart shatter into a million pieces. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, pleading for you to reconsider, to see the love and pain in his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in. His voice wavered slightly as he continued, "Please, don't leave. We can work this out." The sincerity in his tone was undeniable, "I don’t even know what I did wrong, please talk to me," Yunho said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

"I feel like I'm drowning, Yunho," you confessed, your voice barely audible. "Every day, I wake up and I don't recognize myself anymore. I've lost my dreams, my ambitions... I've become nothing but your girlfriend, and it's killing me." The words felt like poison on your tongue, but they were the truth you'd been avoiding for months.

"That's bullshit!" Yunho's voice cracked with emotion. "I've never tried to stop you from being yourself. I've supported every fucking dream you've ever had!" His free hand clenched into a fist, but even in his anger, his grip on your wrist remained gentle. "Four years, baby. Four fucking years of building a life together, and you're just going to throw it all away? Throw me away?” His eyes blazed with a mix of anger and desperation, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You will either tell me the truth or you are not leaving," Yunho said, his voice firm and unwavering. The intensity in his eyes bore into yours, making it clear that he wouldn't back down. "I can't let you walk out of my life without understanding why. Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?" His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, not out of anger but out of sheer desperation. "Please, just tell me the truth," he pleaded, his voice softening as he searched your eyes for any sign of honesty. "I need to know why you're doing this. I need to understand."

"You're suffocating me with your love," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "You're so perfect, so goddamn perfect that I can't breathe. Every time I fail, you're there to catch me. Every time I fall, you pick me up. How am I supposed to grow when you never let me face anything on my own?"

Yunho's eyes widened with realization and hurt. "So loving you too much is my crime?" His voice was soft, broken. "Baby, if you need space, I'll give you space. If you need time, take all the time in the world. Just... please don't leave like this."

"It's not that simple," you said, your voice trembling. "I need to find myself again, and I can't do that when every part of my life is intertwined with yours. I wake up to you, I fall asleep to you, I breathe you, I dream you. I've lost myself in you completely."

"Then let me help you find yourself again," he pleaded, his eyes full of unconditional love despite the pain you were causing him. "We can figure this out together. I'll do anything, be anything you need. Just don't throw away everything we have."

"That's exactly the problem," you whispered, gently pulling your wrist from his grip. "You'd sacrifice everything for me, and I can't bear that responsibility anymore. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet."

Yunho took a step back, his hand falling away from your wrist. He looked like he wanted to say something, to argue, to plead with you to stay, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, stunned and heartbroken. Yunho looked more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him. "I love you so fucking much it hurts," he finally said, "And if leaving is what you need... if it will make you happy... then go. But know that I'll be right here, waiting, hoping that one day you'll find your way back to me."

You grabbed your only half-packed suitcase, some of your belongings still scattered on the floor where Yunho had thrown them. He observed you, his broken breaths the only sound in the room. "So you don't love me anymore?" he asked, but you couldn't answer him. You knew if you let yourself think about it, if you let yourself feel, you would stay - and that wasn't an option. At the threshold, you turned back one last time. The sight of him - your beautiful, loving Yunho - standing there with tears streaming down his face, still looking at you with nothing but love and understanding, nearly broke your resolve.

You looked down at the floor, unable to bear the heartbreak etched on his face. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want it to end like this, but I can't keep pretending. It's not fair to either of us.”

"Please..." his voice cracked with desperation, "Tell me you still love me. Even if it's a lie, just say it one more time." His eyes were pleading, filled with tears as he reached for your hand once again. "I need to hear it. Just once more. Please, baby." The raw vulnerability in his voice made your heart shatter all over again. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing that if you did, if you saw the love and pain mixing in those beautiful eyes of his, you’d drop your bag and stay.

You finally broke down and started to cry, a lump forming in your throat as you decided to keep silent. Your hand slipped from his grasp, and the loss of contact felt like losing a piece of yourself. The tears streamed down your face as you watched his fingers curl into empty air where your hand had been just moments before. Your silence spoke volumes - it was both your answer and your goodbye.

As you closed the door behind you, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, you could hear his muffled sobs. Each step away from him felt like a knife in your heart, but you kept walking. Sometimes love isn't enough, and sometimes finding yourself means losing the person who helped you become who you are.

"Hi Y/N," loud music in the background makes it hard to understand Mingi's voice through the phone. "Could you please come pick Yunho up?’’ the tone of his voice makes it clear that something bad happened, and your mind starts racing with scenarios. "I don't know what’s gotten into him, but he's been drinking non-stop and has already poured liters of alcohol into himself. I've tried everything to get him to leave with me, but he refuses."

"Did he tell you what happened?" you asked as you got up from the sofa, taking the towel off of your freshly washed hair. The urgency in Mingi's voice made your heart pound faster, and you couldn't ignore the knot of worry tightening in your chest.

"All night he didn't say much," Mingi replied, his voice strained. "Just kept mumbling your name and saying he needed you. Please, just come. I'm worried about him." You could hear the genuine concern in Mingi's voice, and it spurred you into action.

"I even called San to help," Mingi added, "You know he's fucking strong but even he couldn't force Yunho up. Poor guy’s so tired he's skipping gym tomorrow. If only Yunho wasn't so goddamn tall, San would've easily picked him up and left with him on his back." Mingi's frustration was palpable, and it only added to the sense of urgency you felt to get to Yunho. You felt your heart sink at the thought of him being in such a state. Despite everything that had happened between you, the idea of him suffering tore at your conscience. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed your keys.

"Could you bring his coat with you?" Mingi added, his voice tinged with concern though an edge of irritation was starting to creep in. "It's freezing outside, and this idiot came wearing only a denim jacket. He's going to get sick at this rate."

"Mingi, I..." you sighed heavily, fumbling sounds echoing through the phone as you frantically searched for something to wear. Your heart was already racing with anxiety at what you needed to tell him. "I moved out last week."

The silence that followed was deafening. You could practically feel Mingi's shock radiating through the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely controlled, each word carefully measured. "You... you moved out?"

"As in... you moved out from yours and Yunho's apartment? Alone?" Mingi's voice grew increasingly strained with each question. "Only you moved out? He stayed?" The confusion in his voice gave way to something darker, and you could picture him pacing back and forth, running his hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to process this.

"Yes," you replied, "I moved out last week. Yunho and I... we broke up." The words felt like glass in your throat, cutting deeper with each syllable.

Mingi's breathing became audibly heavier on the other end. "I had no idea," he finally said, his voice now ice-cold. "Yeah, then I guess, um... don't bother coming?" The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and you could hear muffled cursing as he turned away from the phone.

"Mingi, please," you begged softly, "I can't just leave him like that."

"Well, haven't you already left him?" Mingi exploded, his voice rising sharply. You could hear the raw anger in his words now, no longer bothering to mask his feelings. "You know what's fucking hilarious? My best friend - my brother - had been drowning himself in alcohol all night, and I had no idea why. And now it all makes sense." His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Yunho loved you, hell he still loves you, more than anything in this world, without a single doubt. Do you even realize that?" Mingi's breath came out in a shaky exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was trembling with barely contained rage. "You know, he would never, ever leave you," he said, each word deliberate and cutting. "I've watched him pour his entire heart into making you happy. Every single day, he'd talk about you with stars in his eyes. He'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. And now..." His voice broke. "Now I'm watching him destroy himself because of you, and it's tearing me apart."

The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear the distant thump of bass music and Mingi's ragged breathing. "Yunho is in a really fucking bad state right now," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And even though every fiber of my being is screaming not to let you anywhere near him again, he needs you."

"So if you ever truly loved him - if any part of what you had was real - you'll come and help him get through tonight," Mingi's voice was now deadly serious. "We're at Newonce. And let me make something crystal clear: if you don't show up, don't even think about trying to talk to him ever again. I swear to god, I won't let you breathe the same air as him after this."

You hurriedly grabbed your coat with trembling hands and rushed out of your apartment, your mind spinning with a mixture of worry, guilt, and fear. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you didn't even know why it was happening. Did your actions really set Yunho on edge? Was he really coping that badly? You felt a knot tighten in your chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of him in such a state because of you was almost unbearable. You had hoped that leaving would somehow make things easier for both of you, but now it seemed like you had only caused more pain. The tears spilled over, running down your cheeks as you struggled to find the strength to face the consequences of your actions. You frantically waved down a taxi, your hands shaking as you gave the driver directions to Newonce. The ride felt endless, each red light an eternity as your imagination tortured you with images of Yunho's state.

When you finally pushed through the club's doors, the assault of pulsing music and strobing lights felt like a mockery of the heaviness in your heart. You fought your way through the crowd, scanning desperately for familiar faces. Then you saw them - Mingi standing rigidly by the bar, his face etched with concern and barely concealed anger, San leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an icy stare that cut right through you, and Yunho... Your heart nearly stopped. He was slumped over, looking more broken than you'd ever seen him.

"Yunho," you called out, your voice catching in your throat as you rushed to his side. His head lifted slowly at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, his eyes lit up with that familiar warmth that had always been reserved just for you. But then reality seemed to crash back in, and his gaze clouded over with pain and confusion that made your chest ache.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "Is it really you baby? Are you really here?"

"Yes, it's me," you whispered, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore how he instinctively leaned into your touch. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Mingi watched the interaction with barely contained fury simmering beneath his concerned exterior. He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you, eyes dark with warning. "You better take good care of him," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "He doesn't deserve any of this. And if you hurt him again..." He left the threat unfinished, but his meaning was clear. San remained silent throughout the exchange, but his piercing gaze never left you, his usually warm eyes now cold and unforgiving.

You nodded mutely, Mingi's words and San's silent judgment pressed down on you like a physical burden. Together, you helped get Yunho to his feet. San helped you guide him to the waiting taxi, his movements efficient but distant, refusing to acknowledge your whispered "thank you" as you settled into the backseat. Yunho immediately clung to you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, his lips millimeters from your skin, his breath tingling against your collarbone. He looked at you with his big puppy eyes, and you found yourself once again lost in them, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Your hair's wet, baby," he mumbled out, his voice slurred but filled with concern. One of his hands ran through the ends of your damp hair, his touch gentle and familiar. "M-My baby's gonna catch a cold." You felt a lump forming in your throat as you watched him, despite the alcohol coursing through his veins, Yunho's instinct to care for you remained strong. It was moments like these that made leaving him so incredibly difficult.

The drive back to his apartment was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by Yunho's occasional mumbling of your name. Each time he said it, the sound was like a knife twisting in your heart, carrying all the love and pain you'd caused. When you finally arrived, you helped him inside, settling him gently onto the bed that still held so many memories of happier times.

As you looked around the apartment, your heart sank at the state of disarray. Unwashed dishes were piled high in the sink, a reminder of how things had fallen apart. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the room in a gloomy shadow that matched the heaviness in your chest. Your clothes, the ones you'd left behind in your hurried departure, were still scattered across the bed - a t-shirt here, a sweater there, like abandoned pieces of your shared life. On the desk, your framed pictures remained untouched, frozen moments of happiness that now felt like they belonged to different people. Empty soju bottles lay on its side near the bed, and beside it—your heart clenched—sat an ashtray. The sight stole your breath. Yunho had quit smoking the moment you moved in together. Now the scent of cigarettes mingled with his familiar cologne, making your chest ache. The half-filled ashtray revealed how much he'd changed since you left, each stubbed-out cigarette marking his pain.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your vision blurring with tears as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. Your fingers lingered for a moment, remembering countless times you'd made the same gesture in love rather than guilt. "I'm so, so sorry."

As you stood there, battling with your conscience, Yunho's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Please," he mumbled, his voice thick with need, "just stay with me." Before you could protest, he pulled you down with surprising strength, causing you to fall onto his chest with a soft gasp. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close against him. The familiar warmth of his body enveloped you completely, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace despite your better judgment. His heartbeat thundered beneath your ear, strong and steady, a rhythm you'd fallen asleep to countless times before.

"Just for tonight," he whispered into your hair, his grip tightening slightly as if afraid you'd disappear. "Please, baby... just tonight." The desperation in his voice made your heart ache, and you found yourself unable to pull away from his warmth, from the comfort of being in his arms again.

You knew you should leave, that staying would only make things harder in the morning, but his embrace felt like coming home. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and even in his drunken state, his touch was gentle, reverent. The scent of his cologne mixed with the trace of alcohol filled your senses, bringing back a flood of memories you'd tried so hard to suppress.

"I miss you," he breathed against your temple, his words slurring slightly. "I miss you so much it hurts." His confession hung heavy in the air between you, raw and honest in a way that only alcohol could bring out. You felt tears prick at your eyes as his words hit home, knowing that come morning, this moment of vulnerability would only add to the pain you both carried.

"Oh god, I am so in love with you," Yunho whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desperation. His hand traced your jawline gently as if trying to memorize every curve and contour of your face. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel his love and longing in every delicate caress. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've become my everything, and the thought of losing you forever terrifies me."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to his heartfelt confession. The sincerity in his words made it difficult to hold back your own emotions. "Yunho," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "I..."

But before you could finish, he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you gently. "Please," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, "just let me hold you for a little while longer. Let me pretend, even if it's just for tonight, that everything is okay."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how you felt. As he pulled you into his arms, you buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. At that moment, it felt as if time had stopped, and the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the two of you, holding on to each other as if your lives depended on it.

And maybe, in a way, they did.

"I love you so much," Yunho slurred as he leaned closer, his breath hitching with quiet sobs as it mingled with yours, "I... I don't know what I'll do without you," he continued, his voice breaking completely as he struggled to speak through his tears. "It's killing me. It's killing me, and I can't... I can't breathe without you." A heart-wrenching sob escaped his lips. His gaze shifted to your lips, and before you could process what was happening, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant and tender, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had built up between you. His lips were soft against yours, tasting faintly of alcohol, cigarettes, and something uniquely Yunho.

As you melted into the kiss, his hand moved to cup your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. The familiar gesture made your heart ache with longing. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate, more needy, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of his love and pain into this one moment.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Yunho rested his forehead against yours. Tears were streaming down his face again, and you could feel the wetness on your own cheeks. "Please," he whispered brokenly, "please don't let this be goodbye."

You reached up to wipe away his tears, your heart breaking at the sight of his vulnerability. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips reminded you of all the reasons you'd fallen in love with him in the first place. At that moment, surrounded by the quiet darkness of an apartment you shared for years and the weight of everything unsaid between you, you found yourself unable to form the words that would either heal or destroy what remained of your relationship.

Instead, you found yourself drawing him closer, letting his warmth envelope you completely as his breathing began to even out. His grip on you remained steady even as sleep started to claim him, and you knew that come morning, everything would be different - but for now, this moment was all that existed. And just like that, you let yourself fall asleep.

Your half-conscious state was violently interrupted as Yunho suddenly jerked upright, the movement nearly throwing your aching body off the bed. Through bleary eyes still heavy from crying, you watched him stumble to his feet. Before your sleep-addled mind could fully process what was happening, he had already bolted to the bathroom, the sound of retching echoing through the apartment.

"Yunho?" You followed him, heart racing with concern. He was hunched over the toilet, his broad shoulders heaving violently as he emptied the contents of his stomach. The sound of his retching echoed off the bathroom tiles, making your chest tighten with worry. Without thinking, you reached out to rub his back in a comforting gesture, but he flinched away from your touch as if it burned.

"Don't," he spat out between heaves, his voice raw and bitter, laced with a pain that went deeper than physical illness. "Just... don't fucking touch me. Not now. Not like this."

The venom in his voice made you take several steps back, your hand still suspended in the air between you. "I'm just trying to help—"

"Help?" He laughed, a hollow, broken sound that seemed to bounce off the walls and pierce straight through your heart. He wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, finally turning to face you. His eyes were clearer now, the alcohol haze replaced by something far more terrifying – complete and devastating clarity. "Where was this fucking help when you walked out on us? When you decided I wasn't enough? When you left me alone with nothing but silence and unanswered messages?"

"That's not... that's not what happened," you stammered, feeling hot tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "You know that's not what happened. It was more complicated than that."

"Do I?" He stood up abruptly, towering over you in the cramped bathroom, his presence filling the small space with an almost suffocating intensity. "Because I don't know shit anymore. I don't know why the person I love more than anything in this goddamn world decided to throw everything away like it meant nothing. I don't know why you're here now, playing nurse to my drunk, pathetic ass, acting like you give a fuck about what happens to me!"

"Of course I give a fuck!" The tears were falling freely now, hot trails down your cheeks as your voice cracked with emotion. "How can you think I don't care? After everything we've been through? I love—"

"DON'T!" he roared, slamming his hand against the wall with such force that the mirror rattled, making you jump backward. "Don't you dare say those words. You lost that right. You lost it when you..." His voice broke, and you could see tears forming in his own bloodshot eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just get out. Please, just... get the fuck out before I completely fall apart."

"Yunho, please," you sobbed, reaching for him desperately, your fingers grasping at empty air between you. "Can we just talk about this? I never meant to hurt you like this—"

"To what?" he cut you off, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that felt more devastating than his shouts. "To come back here and make me feel like the biggest fucking idiot for still being in love with you? For making me think, just for a moment, that maybe there was still hope for us?" He ran his hands through his disheveled hair in frustration, tears now streaming freely down his face, catching in his stubble. "God, I'm such a pathetic piece of shit for still wanting you after everything."

You stood there, chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs, watching helplessly as the man you loved tore himself apart in front of you. The worst part was knowing that you were the reason for his pain, that every tear he shed, every broken word he spoke, was because of choices you'd made, paths you'd chosen to walk away from.

"I said get out!" he shouted when you didn't move, his voice breaking on the last word like shattered glass. "I can't... I can't even look at you right now. Please, just... leave. Like you're so good at doing. It's what you do best, isn't it?"

That final jab felt like a physical blow to your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You stumbled backward, barely able to see through the thick veil of tears as you fumbled to grab your things. The last glimpse you caught of him through the bathroom doorway was an image that would haunt you forever – the love of your life slumped against the cold tile wall, head buried in his trembling hands, broad shoulders shaking with silent, devastating sobs.

As you fled his apartment, the violent sound of something shattering against a wall followed you out into the hallway, the crash mixing with your own heartbroken cries in the empty corridor. Each step away from him felt like walking on broken glass, leaving trails of both your shattered hearts in your wake.

Your hands were shaking so violently you could barely hold your phone, fingers trembling as you tried to unlock it through the blur of tears. Each breath came in sharp, painful gasps that felt like shards of glass in your lungs. The sound of whatever Yunho broke is still echoing in your head, mixing with the memory of his broken sobs, and oh god, oh god, what if he hurts himself? The thought sends another wave of panic crashing through you.

You manage to find Mingi's contact through pure muscle memory because you can barely see the screen through your tears. "Please be awake, please be fucking awake," you whisper desperately as the phone rings. Your free hand is pressed against the wall of the hallway, trying to keep yourself upright as the edges of your vision start to blur. The panic is closing in, making everything feel distant and too close all at once.

"Hello?" Mingi's voice is rough with sleep, but it's there, thank fuck it's there. "Do you know what fucking time it is—"

"M-Mingi," you choke out, and something in your voice must sound absolutely fucking wrecked because he immediately goes quiet. "I... I need... Yunho, he's..." You can't get the words out between your gasping breaths, each inhale feeling shorter than the last.

"Hey, hey, breathe for me," Mingi's voice shifts instantly from sleepy to alert, concern evident in every word. "Where are you? What happened with Yunho?"

"I f-fucked up," you sobbed, sliding down the wall because your legs couldn't hold you anymore. "I think he's still drunk, and we... there was... I heard something break after I left, Mingi, he's so fucking broken and it's my fault, it's all my fault, and I can't... I can't breathe, I can't—"

"Listen to me," Mingi cuts through your spiral, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm getting dressed right now. I'm coming over. I swear to fucking god if both of my best friends end up in the hospital today—"

Another crash echoes from inside Yunho's apartment, followed by what sounds like a strangled scream, and you let out a broken wail. "Please hurry," you begged, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. "Please, Mingi, I'm scared, I'm so fucking scared—"

"You need to get out of there," he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Stay on the line with me until you're in a taxi, okay? I'll make sure you get home safe."

"But I can't—I don't want to be alone, I don't wanna leave him" you choke out between sobs, clutching the phone tighter.

"I know, but trust me, this is for the best right now," Mingi's voice softens with sympathy. "I'll handle Yunho. Just please, get yourself home safely. Don't hang up until you're in that taxi."

You nod numbly, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs. The sound of your footsteps feels thunderous in the empty hallway as you make your way to the elevator, Mingi's steady breathing on the line anchoring you to reality. Your trembling fingers somehow manage to open your ride-sharing app, and you hear yourself giving your address to the driver in a voice that sounds far away, even to your own ears.

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[candied-heartss]

“i might let you make me juno!”

(stanford!art donaldson x fem!girlfriend!reader)

summary: art loves his sweet, little girlfriend, but thinks she'd look even better with a baby at her side!

cw: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be fools wrap your tools, y'all), praise kink, missionary position, "baby-trapping" and references to pregnancy/bearing children (reader & art have talked beforehand), reader is fem and is referred to w she/her pronouns, slight size kink(?), inspired by sabrina carpenter's ‘juno’, really short n not exactly proofread so pls bare w me 😭😭

word #: 544 words

a/n: hey y'all!! guess who's back from the dead perchance lmao anyways sorry for basically being mia, classes have been kicking my ass 😭😭 anywhosies enjoy this self-indulgent brain vomit xx <33

"art, honey... i think i wanna try it..."

ever since those words fell from your lips all those weeks ago, art has been nothing but driven completely wild.

almost every night, after coming home from a particularly long practice match or studying, it would always end the same. you bent over or laid up on the nearest piece of furniture while he pounded into you like no tomorrow.

now, of course, you loved it all. the sloppy, almost clumsy nature of his hastily timed thrusts, the tight, but loving grip he held on your hips and thighs, and the praise that would fall off of his tongue like sugar.

"doin' so good, sweet girl... love this cunt, love you s'much... wanna give it to you..." he would murmur into your ear, hips colliding with yours.

"want it... please, art... want it sooo bad." you would cry out softly, only to gasp whenever he would inevitably give in to your pleas and press you tight up against him.

"you feel that? that's me..." he would boast with a quiet, almost prideful chuckle as his hand ghosted over your lower abdomen where he could feel your cunt greedily clenching and taking him in, "god, i just... wanna put a baby in you, you'd look so damn pretty pregnant." and the mere thought of it, you all round and swollen, your breasts tender to the touch and your nipples so easily malleable, especially under art's touch, made you shiver with need.

and each time, he always seemed to know when you were on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, as if he had a six sense designated for your pleasure, only.

"c'mon, sweetheart... lemme feel it." he would practically moan in your ear, his thrusts becoming more harsh and punctuated, making the occasional choked whine slip from your throat.

"a-art!... coming, 'm gonna come..." you would practically shriek, clutching onto him as if you were afraid he'd disappear if you didn't. your eyes then rolled back as the buildup finally came crashing down, rendering you in a dazed state and turning both your bones and brain into a melted puddle. art then swiftly followed with a groan, leaning his head back in pure, unadulterated ecstasy as your cunt milked his cock for all its worth.

as you began to come down from your prolonged high, you could still feel him thrusting inside of you, desperately chasing a release of his own, before he finally came with a hoarse grunt, shaky, pleasured sighs leaving the both of your mouths as you felt him from you up entirely with his cum.

and when he pulls out, it only then spurs on the incentive to finish what he started. moving back in between your thighs, he leans in close to your aching, swollen cunt before dragging his fingers through the spend that dripped out of you before carefully plunging them back into you, causing a weak moan to fall out of your mouth.

"careful, baby," art then muses with an almost playful smile painted on his lips, "we're not finished 'til you can make me a daddy, okay?"

and, god, you swore that if you could, those words could definitely make you fall in love with him all over again.

[kometqh]

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

501st x F!Jedi!Reader General Skywalker clearly wasn't a reliable source of intell, having pointed you and Rex's squad into the icy tumbra of a long deserted planet, however, it was due to his calculated mistake that the Clones were able to reveal your deeply hidden desires. Being stuck in a cave with numerous handsome, attractive men was not on your to-do list, yet you weren't complaining. Word Count: 3028

Warnings: Unedited, random brain rainbow vomit I had whilst practicing writing techniques <3 It's somewhat (quite) spicy towards the end. There is a lot of fluff throughout most of it! A/N: This is mostly just Tup, Rex and Fives x reader as this was a very spontaneous fic T_T pls forgive me.

"General Skywalker said this would be an easy mission," Fives hissed under his breath, the deep, reverbrating sound of his voice lost underneath the wolfish howling of the wind, clusters of snow beating at his helmet. This was supposed to be a quick and easy diplomatic trip, but where did he and the 501st Legion find themselves? Somewhere on a deserted, icy, snowy planet. "My toes are about to fall off!"

"Yeah, he promised us there'd be clear blue skies and hot weather. A beach even!" Echo added on, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. Rather than being on a hot, sandy beach, the brothers had found themselves treading through waist-deep snow, their fingers and toes turning into icicles, their blasters heavy in their grasps. 

"I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic trip, Captain," Fives continued, his voice becoming white noise as Rex all but ignored his brother, gracing him with an occasional hum or grunt, to let him know he was listening. But he wasn't hearing. Rex was also unhappy with the circumstances, but it was his job to do this kind of thing. It's not like the clones could refuse not going on a mission, not going head-first into a battle, so he definitely would have appreciated General Skywalker's honesty, over trickery. 

The weather was only getting worse, the wind and snow beating at the men cruelly, the blue paint on their armour completely disappeared under the clusters of snow that had latched themselves onto the clones. 

He paused in his tracks, scanning the area through his optical goggles. He spotted something. Something dark, something round. His men stopped behind him, eerily silent as they anticipated their Captain's next words. 

Rex, turning to face his brothers, couldn't help the way his shoulders visibly relaxed as he relayed the news, "I see a cave entrance just a couple yards ahead, boys! We will seek shelter there!" He exclaimed, waving his arm, signalling for them to keep going, to keep following him. 

In the very back, just behind Tup and Jesse, a lone, female Jedi guarded their backs, one hand hovering protectively over her weapon, the other shielded away in the pocket of her coat. A backpack hung onto her shoulders, the leather material soaked and cold, receiving most of the onslaught of the weather. 

Her mind was wandering, body craving to feel the heat of a hot sun glazing against her bare skin, just as Anakin had hinted to. But instead, she was stuck walking through a blizzard, her body cold and tired.

She had also been excited to spend some quality time with the boys from the 501st, whom she had been recently often paired with for missions. The sight of them all relaxing and enjoying their time on the beach, with their tops exposed, tan skin glistening under the sunlight.. Yeah, that would have been a sight worth seeing.

A sudden, much harsher gust of wind jolted her from her thoughts, clumps of snow quickly settling against the icy skin on her face. 

Her robes, too, were soaked, struggling to maintain the warmth in her body as she did her best to follow the path created by the clones, snow crunching under her winter boots. 

She too wasn't made aware of the true conditions of the mission. She couldn't tap into the force either, to predict or to feel some kind of warning of the mission ahead. What was Skywalker thinking? He was lucky none of her men had fallen! The moment she'd get back, the moment her eyes would land on him, he would be wise to run for the hills. She could imagine the fear in his eyes as she comically choked him out, swaying the male back and forth in a fit of anger.

Relief flooded the squad as one by one, they made their way into the cave, it being cleared by their Captain and medic, Rex and Kix. 

Quickly setting camp, the clones hovered around their makeshift fire, some huddled close together, others snuggling under individual, soaked blankets. The snow had penetrated all of their supplies; food, water, tents and blankets. All they could do was hope that the fire would last long enough for the storm to pass, for their blankets to dry out and warm up. 

"What the hell was the General thinking?" Fives muttered, his eyebrows furrowed. He rubbed his bare hands together until they were warm enough, and then he shifted closer to the fire. 

His feet stung, the feeling just barely coming back to him after that gruelling tread. He was sure if his feet didn't fall off yet, then something else soon would. 

You exhaled a heavy sigh, a blanket resting over your shoulders as you extended your palms out towards the fire. Rex had been kind enough to lend you his blanket, noticing that your robes and skirt were practically drenched from the weather. Sure, you weren't dressed for the beach, but you also weren't dressed well enough for a blizzard. 

You were lucky to have been warned, or rather told, by Master Kenobi of the true conditions of your mission. If you hadn't been, your troops wouldn't have had enough time to prepare for the weather. 

Looking over your squad, you made eye contact with Tup. A worried frown ghosted over his rough features, the creases that you hated so much appearing on his forehead. 

Slowly, you made your way over to the trooper, one hand outstretched.

"Tup? Are you okay?" You asked, resting your hand over his shoulder. As if startled, the man looked to you, his brows quirked in surprise. 

"G-General? Why do you ask?" He questioned, gaze flickering down to your hand, before coming back up to stare into your eyes. A soft, pink hue dusted over his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. Sure, he was sweet and kind, he was the shyest of your men. He was almost like a puppy, his chocolatey brown eyes so deep, so sweet, you had lost yourself in them again. 

He was the only man who gazed into your eyes long enough for you to drown, a soft smile erupting on your face as you fought your best to not reach up and caress his cheek in your palm. 

"General? Are you listening?" He asked, his gloved hands reaching up to shake at your shoulders, gently. 

Your lashes fluttered over your eyes, taking in a deep exhale, you shrugged. Were you really okay? 

Taking a moment to respond, your gaze flickered up, noticing how wet his hair was. 

"Tup, d'you want me to dry your hair?" The words tumbled from your mouth before your brain could finish processing their meaning. Tup's eyes widened into saucers as he stood there, frozen. You had never been so caring to your men, at least, not like this. 

Remember that pink hue that dusted his cheeks just a moment ago? Yeah, now that's turned into a beetroot blush, the colour painting his ears, his face and neck in a deep shade of reddish-purple. Would it be okay for you to display such blatant acts of affection? Wouldn't that be against the rules and regulations of the Jedi council? Against the regulations of the GAR? If so, would his brothers snitch?

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-" You started, your mouth quickly dropping into the shape of an 'o' as Tup interrupted you.

"General, I would love for you to dry my hair." He said with a soft smile, scratching at the back of his nape.

Realising it was too late now to back out, you gave a small nod of your head before taking his gloved hand in yours, the leathery material scraping nicely against your soft skin, as you led him closer to the campfire. 

Motioning for Tup to sit down, you stood directly behind, and, above him, reaching to remove your dry blanket from your shoulders. You didn't have a towel, so a blanket should be a good enough substitute. Your hands reached to remove his hairtie, sliding it over your hand to rest on your wrist, your fingers quickly making their way to masssage Tup's scalp. 

As he leaned his head back into your soft hold, Tup couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. Your fingernails grazed softly against his skin, tugging gently at his soft curls, sending eletric shivers down the male's spine. 

But it was when your hands slid from his scalp, over to his nape and shoulders, applying soft but firm pressure against his tired muscles that the involuntary groan escaped his lips, rumbling deep from within his chest. 

Your body stiffened, stopping your ministrations as a familiar spark shot through your heart, right down to your abdomen. 

Your eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into Tup's as the colour red flushed his cheeks once more. His eyes searched yours, a worried glint dancing across as he waited for your reaction. His lips stuttered as he was about to apologise, provide an excuse, tell you it was okay if you didn't want to continue. 

But the words fell short on his tongue as the corners of your lips tugged upwards, your hands applying the slightest bit more pressure to his sore muscles. 

A grunt was stiffled in his throat, his eye fighting hard to stay open, looking anywhere but at your face. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, give you the wrong idea-

None of his brothers did. 

Though a lump formed in his throat as Tup looked around the cave, noticing the numerous lingering gazes of his brothers as they sat there, watching your movements. He could almost feel the jealousy vibrating off of Rex in waves, his gaze hardened as the corners of his lips fought to stay straight. 

A smirk tugged at Tup's lips, as he noticed Jesse squint his eyes at him. Deciding to add fuel to the fire, Tup groaned again when your hands pressed against a particularly tense muscle in his shoulder. 

"Woah, General, where did you learn this?" He asked, a familiar warmth blooming in his abdomen as your nimble fingers danced across his shoulders, tugging at the black suit he wore, exposed now as his armour rested beside a sleeping bag nearby. 

"Oh, you know, just learned bits here and there when I was stationed with Commander Wolffe," You chuckled, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, "That man was full of knots in his shoulders." You added, feeling Tup's shoulders relax more and more, until you had mentioned Wolffe. That's when his posture straightened, from a relaxed lean, to a pin-straight sitting up position. 

He tilted his head back to look at you, a curious yet worried glint in his golden eyes.

"Were you and Commander Wolffe close, by any chance?" He questioned, his breathing paused. 

If you were Wolffe's girl, then he knew the 501st couldn't, wouldn't pursue you. 

Or, if you weren't, then they knew at least they could ask the Commander of his previous.. Experiences, with you. 

Slowly, you caught onto Tup's drift, and your gaze travelled around the room. Some of the men were fully facing the two of you, legs spread, eyes laser-focused as they listened to your conversation, the cave suddenly, and eerily silent.

A shiver travelled down your spine, and a gentle smirk tugged at your lips.

"Oh, just you know, the occasional date here and there.." You said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. Your smirk threatened to grow as you heard someone scoff, and you looked up to see Rex rolling his shoulders, a scowl on his face.

"Date? Isn't that, like, forbidden?" Fives questioned across from you, leaning over curiously, his eyebrows raised, resembling the blue markings on his helmet. 

A giggle escaped your lips as your hands returned to Tup's hair, suddenly remembering why you were giving him a random shoulder massage. You reached over to grab the blanket Rex had given you, placing soft curls between the two valleys of softness created by your hands, which were hidden underneath the soft cushion.

Your hands brushed through Tup's soft hair, gently dragging the strands through the dry, fuzzy material of your blanket. 

"I don't mean a romantic date, Fives, though I wouldn't be opposed to one." You mused, softly tugging at the locks. "I don't particulaly agree with the 'No Attachments' rule. But that doesn't make me less of a Jedi, or does it, do you think?" You questioned, your gaze softening, a small scowl now tugging at your lips. 

"Of course not, General," This time, it was Rex who spoke up, albeit too fast for his liking, "You're one of the most dedicated Jedi I've had the pleasure of working with," He stated, soft footsteps making their way closer and closer to you, "Plus, it is human to wish to form attachments." He whispered that last part, now standing directly above you as you twisted Tup's hair into the towel.

Your heart fluttered at the proximity, warmth enveloping your pinkening cheeks.

"Is it now, Rex?" You asked, looking up at him. Your heart palpitated at the close proximity, your hands gliding down to caress Tup's shoulders. Your gaze stayed unwavering, unbreaking as you looked into Rex's deep, honey-gold eyes. The Captain suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact as he stepped back a little. 

"I-I believe any of us s-should be able to form attachments," He paused, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, and back to your eyes, "Romantic ones, especially." A chorus of 'Yeah's' and humms of agreement followed, catching your attention as you looked around.

The atmosphere in the cave seemed to have completely shifted, the sound of howling wind drowned out underneath the loud beat of your heart. You swallowed a forming lump, looking between Rex and his brothers, Tup now stood by your side, sandwiching your body between his and Rex's. 

Gloved hands came up to softly caress your shoulders, fingertips lightly tugging at the edge of your collar, grazing the skin underneath. 

"What do you think, Commander?" He whispered into your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin.

"Of?" You prompted, turning your head lightly to look at Tup. 

"Of close relations between Jedi and their Clones?"

Your eyes widened, feeling a familiar heat rush over your body, and you took inhaled a slow, deep, shaky breath. As you looked between Tup and Rex, the latter had made his way closer to your body, his hands making their way to your hips.

The sound of soft footsteps reached your ears, and you saw Echo, Fives, Jesse, Kix, Dogma and Hardcase making their way closer to the three of you, looking completely entranced by the conversation. You hadn't casted any spells on them, have you?

Your breath hitched in your throat, shivers overtaking your body as someone nuzzled their nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a shaky sigh. As they spoke, your heart fluttered with recognition. 

"General, answer the question." Fives whispered, his voice gravelly and deep, one gloved hand gently grasping your chin, twisting it to face him. His gaze flickered to your lips,  just mere inches from his own. He could almost feel the taste of you on his tongue. Oh how he wished to kiss you, right then and there. He was so sure you'd let him, too.

Sure, maybe you did fantasise about the men from time to time, when your thoughts weren't preoccupied by ongoing battles and Jedi duties. How you wished to be allowed to form a connection deeper than General and Trooper, but did they?

"I- I.. I don't k-know?" You questioned, a soft whimper escaping your opened mouth, before you knew it, his lips crashed against yours, his hands latching themselves into your hair, pulling you closer, if physically possible.

The kiss was, to simply put it, sweet. His goatee rubbed nicely against your chin, his lips melting together with yours, as if they were always meant to. His tongue prodded at your bottom lip, asking for permission. Slipping in, it danced with yours, hot breaths mingling together as you felt something press up against your front.

Rex.

You had almost forgotten you were trapped between Rex and Tup, too engulfed with the sudden kiss Fives had engaged you in.

The smell of pine and smoke invaded your nostrils, their scents overwhelming, flooding your senses as Fives became rougher, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair. With one hand, you grasped the side of his face, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his rough skin, your breath hitched as a groan escaped his lips.

"Okay, that's enough I think." Kix spoke, the kiss abruptly interrupted as he pulled Fives away by the scruff of his neck. 

"General? Are you okay?" Rex's voice was soft as he neared you, his breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. 

Inhaling a shallow breath, you grasped his biceps with both hands.

"Call me Y/n.." You whispered, hazily meeting Rex's stare, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

"R-Right.. Y/n, d'you want us to continue?" He questioned, bringing a hand to gently clutch your chin. 

Your eyes widened as you took in the situation around you; eight men surrounded you, watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce, the moment they received your permission. 

And receive it, they did.

With a brisk nod, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as Rex closed the gap between the two of you, his lips rough but warm as his body pushed roughly against yours, your back meeting Tup's chest in a close embrace. 

Your hands rested against Rex's chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt underneath your thumbs. His chest was warm and firm under your touch, the feeling of his heart racing beneath your hand had your own chest swelling with joy. A sigh left your lips as you felt a pair of lips press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, a new pair of hands rubbing up and down your hips, encouraging you.

You weren't dreaming, were you? You weren't about to wake up, were you?

Your questions were answered as you felt Rex bite your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair.

No, this definitely wasn't a dream.

And if it was, it wasn't one you wished to wake from.

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

i’ve got you

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

summary: an anxious Y/N feels overwhelmed while partying with the pogues at the boneyard, and JJ does his best to calm her nerves.

warning(s): underaged drinking, panic attack

a/n: a big thank you to anyone who enjoyed my last maybank!sister snippet. i hope to write a lot more for JJ in the future, so feel free to leave any requests if you have any specific ideas of what you’d like to read!

also please let me know if i should make these shorter. lol. i'm never sure.

Y/N screwed her eyes shut, trying and failing to keep her hands from trembling as they dented her red solo cup. Her heart was beating so fast that her head could barely keep up, the loud music and sweaty bodies that enclosed her doing nothing to ease her mind.

It was a picturesque summer night out in the boneyard, which of course meant that the Pogues just had to have a kegger. Y/N had grown used to the routine by then, tagging along as they went out to buy the keg and an insane amount of plastic cups that Kie always complained she found littered all over the beach the morning after. Y/N typically helped in the prep for whatever wild evening lay ahead, and had even served as a DD the few times that the Pogues got plastered enough to willingly allow a 15-year-old to drive the Twinkie. However, despite her brother's constant pleading and nagging, she'd never actually attended one of their infamous beach parties.

At least, not until tonight.

Y/N had always been shy, the complete opposite of her elder brother and all of his wild impulsivity. She hated big crowds and loud noises, and even though she would occasionally drink one while out on the Pogue, she wasn't even the biggest fan of beer. But JJ had begged her to join them all day long, poking and prodding at her nerves in his attempts to finally get his baby sister out of her shell.

"Come on, Y/N. You really wanna spend the rest of your life cooped up in the chateau?" he'd said dramatically, throwing his hands up in desperation. "You really oughtta live a little sometime."

You really oughtta live a little sometime.

His words had haunted her well into the evening, and at the last minute she'd finally decided to bite the bullet. JJ was right, after all. While most kids her age were busy making memories and taking risks, she spent her evenings curled up with a book in her lap.

Sure, it wouldn't be the most comfortable experience, but what was the worst that could happen? After all, like her brother always said, stupid things had good outcomes all the time.

She made a mental note to correct JJ on that stupid motto as someone pushed past her, blowing chunks into the bushes only a few feet away from rigid form.

Y/N covered her nose, averting her gaze just in time to notice a familiar head of blond hair breaking through the mess of bodies whooping and grinding on one another.

"Holy shit!" JJ hollered wildly, dimples painfully visible in his state of drunken bliss. "Tom, that's some gnarly shit, man! Trust me, you're gonna feel that tomorrow." He gave the boy a pat on the back as he retched, though thankfully the steady stream of vomit had ended.

Y/N only stood and watched. It was clear that JJ hadn't seen her, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing she wanted was to ruin his night.

"Yo, Y/N/N!"

Too late.

JJ made his way over in sloppy strides, and Y/N turned up her nose at the stench of alcohol clinging to him. He pulled her into him with an arm slung over her shoulders.

"Hi, Jay." Y/N hoped her brother was drunk enough not to notice the tremble in her voice.

"Where'd you go, kid? I've been looking for you all night." He was leaning on her now, gleefully unaware as he slowly crushed her beneath his weight. Y/N groaned with the effort it took to keep her brother upright, struggling not to remind him that it was in fact he who left her to do some shots and never returned.

"Yeah I was . . . I was j-just--"

"Shit, I didn't know you were drinking. That's my girl," he slurred with a wink, pointing at the cup Y/N was damn near close to dropping. It was all getting too much for her—JJ's weight boring into her side, the overwhelming stench of beer, the screaming mouths and dancing bodies slowly closing her in. She felt like a caged animal, her lungs tight and chest heavy.

"Hey, you seen Pope yet? I lost him an hour ago—saw him walk off with some blonde chick with a tramp stamp. Oh, you need a top-up? You should go now, 'm pretty sure the keg's getting low."

JJ continued to ramble on as Y/N crumbled underneath him, her eyes searching desperately for somewhere to go.

"Aw man, I love this song!" Y/N gasped as JJ began jerking her around, forcing her to sway back and forth with him. "Yo, Kurt! Turn that shit up bro!"

Y/N felt blood rushing to her ears, her hands growing clammy as her nerves took over. You're fine, she told herself. You're fine, you're fine. But it wasn't working—she couldn't hear herself think over the music blaring from the speakers.

"Come on, loosen up Y/N! Let's dance!"

"No!" Y/N reached her breaking point, escaping from beneath her brother's outstretched arm. JJ stumbled, just barely managing to catch himself and get a good look at the fear etched into Y/N's features.

"What? Y/N—" He held out a hand that she cringed away from, breathing raggedly as she did.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Y/N!" JJ called after her as she ran off, not knowing exactly where she was headed but intent on getting away. She wound up crouching behind a small hill across from the bustling core of the party, far enough away that the music finally fell to an acceptable volume.

Y/N brought her knees to chest and buried her face in them, fingers tugging at her hair as tears spilled from her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be dumb enough to let JJ convince her that this would be a good idea? Y/N forced her breathing to slow as her chest tightened, coughing in her feeble attempts.

Y/N had listened to a few songs run their course by the time she managed to get a grip on herself, her breaths steadying as she counted eight-second inhales and eight-second exhales. Still Y/N rested her forehead against her knees, so dead-set on staying calm that she didn't notice the sound of JJ's footsteps in the sand.

"Hey." Y/N gasped, her head shooting upright as she scrambled to back away from whoever had found her. "Hey, calm down. It’s alright, Y/N." She sighed in relief when she recognized JJ's outline in the dark, her brother crouched before her shrunken form. "It's okay. Just me."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Sorry."

"'S okay. Didn't mean to scare you." He awkwardly held out another cup to her, which she observed warily. "Don't worry, it’s just water. Figured it might help more than beer."

Y/N smiled, accepting JJ's peace offering gratefully. "You'd be right about that." She greedily drank it all in one gulp, only then realizing how dry her mouth had gotten. "Thanks, Jay."

"Least I could do, since I forced you to come her." Y/N sighed, noticing the guilt swimming in her brother's blue eyes.

"You didn't force me."

"Well, I might as well have."

"it's not your fault, JJ." He rested a comforting hand on her knee.

"Sure it is. I knew you didn't like this kind of scene and I dragged you here anyway." He ran his free hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as regret consumed his intoxicated mind.

"It's okay." Y/N shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. JJ ruffled her hair. "Sorry I can't be a party animal like you."

"Ah, don't sweat it. Makes my job a lot easier, anyway." Y/N giggled, shoving him lightly, and JJ couldn't help but smile. "So, what's the plan? Want me to drive you home?"

Y/N scoffed. "I don't even think you could if you tried."

"Oh, Y/N," He teased her with a smile, "you severely underestimate my driving skills."

"And you severely overestimate my willingness to die." JJ chuckled at that. "Plus, who said I wanted to leave?"

"You’re gonna stay?'

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I've made myself a pretty comfy hideout over here." JJ pouted.

"I guess . . ." He looked down at his sister with a smirk. "Or you could try the party again."

Immediately Y/N felt that skin-crawling uncertainity take over once more. She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't . . . I dunno, Jay."

"Look, I promise I won't leave you this time. We can just sit around the campfire—maybe try to find Kie or something. What'd'ya think?" He held out a hand to her. "We'll take it slow."

Y/N considered this for a moment, eventually taking hold of her brother's hand. "Okay."

"Sweet!" JJ tried his best to stand, but only wound up falling back on his ass. "I'm gonna need some help getting up, though."

Y/N laughed, hoisting her brother to his feet with a grunt, and JJ smiled as she allowed her hand to linger in his while they walked. The very same way she did when they were little.

Just like JJ promised, he found the two of them a space to sit by the blazing campfire and never left Y/N's side.

・❥・

Hours had passed before the kegger had begun to die down, their beer long gone and speakers long dead. The rest of the Pogues had finally joined the Maybanks around the fire pit, and the group listened comfortably as Kie plucked at the strings of her ukulele. "Y'know what, Jay? I wouldn't mind trying this kegger thing again."

JJ smiled. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." She snuggled closer to his chest, absorbing whatever extra heat his body offered. "As long as you're there to hold my hand."

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

hide the sun - n. mackinnon

summary: there are some things nathan mackinnon can't cope very well with in life. one of them happens to be mia in hospital, and needless to say it's a whirlwind when it comes true. (f!oc!soccer player)

warnings: swearing, details of injury (stitches, concussion, temporary amnesia etc), mentions of vomiting, mentions of anxiety, brief mention of the pandemic, mentions of sports psychologists, mention of painkillers/hospitals/doctors, mentions of routines/small rituals, angst

word count: 13.8k (sheesh)

< a/n: this is for demi (the legend herself) @wyattjohnston as part of the summer fic exchange2k24! i hope you enjoy it! also a massive thank you for organising such a wholesome event in this little community!! >

Nate had lost count on how many times he’d had to dive into the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach in the last few hours. It seemed like every time he got close to stepping inside the hospital room his brain would play over what happened in his head and he’d relive it all again – as if once wasn’t enough. Only, his imagination was crueller than reality because the outcome would always be…Mia not conscious and talking in the hospital bed.

All is well, he had to keep reminding himself of that or the fine thread holding everything in check would spontaneously snap and he’d be inconsolable.

He’d gone through a lot in his life, but nothing had ever come close to him experiencing this level of fear before. And that in itself was a terrifying notion, because that fear was rooted in someone else’s well being. His happiness and his peace were attached to the woman in the hospital bed, not to himself, and he found that both profoundly moving and disturbing at the same time.

He flushed the toilet once more, stomach muscles aching, and shut his eyes, his head lolling against the wall behind him. 

He was well aware he was being a dick. Perhaps the biggest prick he’d ever been before in his entire life. And he was being all of that to the person he was wholeheartedly, irrevocably, hilariously in love with, too. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forgive himself let alone ask for forgiveness from her.

He was still shaking and cold, and every time he shut his eyes that scene was played on repeat: the ball flying through the air, Mia jumping up to head it away but instead getting a sharp elbow to the temple (one Nate could safely say rivalled even Jacob Trouba’s weaponry) and going down cold. Nate knew it was bad just from the way she’d fallen – limbs loose, like a puppeteer had surrendered control of the strings – he’d had enough practice in his own field, and he hadn’t ever anticipated her also being on the receiving end of such a blow before. 

Of course, it had been her teammates first, frantic expressions on their faces as someone waved over the physios, and then the physios had waved over the paramedics and–

Nate inhaled a shuddering breath, a hand kneading away the pain in his chest. He’d never been one to admit he suffered with anxiety before, sure, he got them in bouts occasionally, but he’d never had it on this scale. Yet, another terrifying thing.

And to top all of that off, the guilt flowing through his veins was astronomical. He could feel it crushing his head from inside his skull, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs and he just wanted to curl up somewhere and sob everything out of his system. Then, and only then would he be able to stomach the thought of seeing her: when he’d comprehended everything.

“Fucking dick, what are you doing?” He groaned into his hands, wiping away unshed tears and taking another shaky breath, this one making his chin wobble.

He was needed, he was painfully aware of that. Painfully. It scorched his insides and his consciousness didn’t hold back the self-belittling remarks in his head, but he couldn’t peel himself up from the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to stand safely on his own legs, and he wasn’t entirely sure his stomach was strong enough just yet.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, and in an attempt to take it out of his pocket it clattered to the floor, victim to his trembling hands.

He blinked once, twice, three times to clear the blurriness of his eyes, and read over the words on his screen. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the shortness and cryptic tone of the message that had him finding strength from somewhere to haul himself onto his feet, or whether he was just intrinsically waiting for something to get him moving.

All anyone had been told so far was that she was in a stable condition – still unconscious – and that any scans that had been done so far had been as clear as they could be, that being no internal bleeding or haemorrhaging or anything that could have possibly resulted from getting hit in the temple and then bashing your head on the floor. A concussion was inevitable, and even thinking about it, Nate knew it wasn’t going to be a merciful one. 

Nevertheless, he managed to pocket his phone, a damp hand on the wall of the cubicle keeping him steady until he could unlock the door without wanting to immediately dive back in and hide until Mia was given the all-clear. 

He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was doing or where he was going when he was following the overhead signs, but he somehow ended up in the hallway. There were benches in the corridor, settled just outside Mia’s room, and he stopped as he rounded the corner.

There was a crowd of people significantly larger than when he’d initially run away to the toilets, and one quick glance at people’s faces told him they were teammates. It wasn’t the entire team, just a few close friends and the team physio – enough to mean a queue would have to be formed when she wakes up, what with some of her family members already in there.

And if he was being completely honest, Nate wasn’t sure what to expect as he slowly walked towards them. They’d taken up all the seats on the bench and a few people were sitting on the floor against the wall, but no one was talking. In fact, everyone appeared to be looking straight forwards at the same spot on the wall, but there was nothing there.

It was Milly who saw him first. She offered a tight smile and waved at him, and when he got close enough, just about to lower himself down on the floor next to her, she spoke.

“The doctor came out around two minutes ago.” She whispered, and Nate felt all the air in his lungs freeze.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, the sharp pain in his chest rendering him immobile. Of course he wanted to know if she was okay, but what if she wasn’t? That was the question that his mind kept repeating on a loop, and if that was the case then these few seconds he’d use to gather himself meant they’d be the last few seconds where he was ignorant to that piece of information.

He swallowed, unable to look at Milly, and instead turned his attention to the spot on the wall in front of him that everyone else seemed to be focused on.

“She’s awake.”

“Is she oka–” His throat was horrendously dry and his voice was scratchy, but it was Milly’s gentle hand on his forearm that had him shutting up.

“She’s okay.”

Nate nodded, not even noticing Milly had rescinded her touch, and instead inhaled deeply, nodding absent-mindedly.

“She’s been assessed, her memory’s a little bit patchy from the last couple of days but there’s no concern. Her family’s in there now.” She paused, and even out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was clearly hesitant in saying something to him. Everyone seemed to have looked at him like that since the minute he’d walked through the hospital doors, and he was starting to find it rather irritating. It felt awfully similar to impatience, like every time he caught someone looking at him with pity, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding not to (probably because they didn’t know how he’d react), he just wanted to yell – like when you get stuck behind a slow walker and you’re behind schedule in the airport.

He blinked hard, once, twice, before using the heel of his palm to quickly wipe his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the water welling up until the wall in front of him had become a blurred mess of blocked colours: red, green, blue, white. 

“Are you gonna go in?” Milly asked finally, and he was at least glad she made no comment on his tears.

He shook his head, not entirely trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking or wavering, or a complete breakdown – he’d be lying to himself immensely if he denied that wasn’t on the cards.

“Can’t.” He croaked, pulling his knees up to his chest, as best as he could given his height, “I’m not family, they won’t let me in.”

Milly considered his words for a moment before frowning, “Who won’t let you in?”

“Doctors. I’m not family, so…They don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s shit—”

“They told me to come back in the morning, but I’m not sure I can leave.” He whispered, his hand massaging the tender spot in his chest as he fought another onslaught of watery eyes.

He felt like it might be a bit of an overreaction to cry at the knowledge she was okay, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on anything. It was a combination of stress, worry and fear that just spiralled his emotions out of his own control, like someone else was fiddling with the joystick of a controller somewhere. Yet, even knowing the root of it all, the mere thought of straying more than a corridor away from the door to Mia’s hospital room was…incomprehensibly daunting. 

It almost sent him down another path of panic, he could feel the grips of it begin to claw at his heart rate and the clamminess of his palms again when he even so much as thought about it. 

No, he physically couldn’t bring himself to leave, at least not yet.

He’d at least give it another think when her parents walk out with a real update instead of the formal crap the doctors had spewed him earlier: some vague nonsense about her being stable but unable to tell quite the extent of the damage just yet, and if they knew they certainly couldn’t tell him because he wasn’t her husband. 

If only he’d lied initially. He’d probably think about that for the rest of his life.

Milly hummed, pulling out her phone. If the circumstances had been different Nate probably would have been able to stop himself peeking over at what she was doing, but he was so despondent and distracted in his own head, those horrified replays still flickering on a loop in the back of his mind, that he couldn’t bring himself to be nosey for once.

“That’s not right,” Milly muttered under her breath, scrolling down several pages of text, “They should let you in, you know? There’s no laws against it, it’s just been cracked down on during the Pandemic.”

“Huh?” Nate tilted his head, his nose running slightly. Now that the worst of his tears had gently fizzled away, his eyelids were heavy and his eyes were burning with fatigue. In fact, he could feel the exhaustion settle into his bones, and he knew that in about an hour he could be asleep on the hospital floor, even with those fluorescent lights shining in his face.

“They should let you in.” Milly repeated, pushing herself up and walking over to the nearest desk before Nate could even think about responding.

He kept his mouth shut, watching her talk to the receptionist from afar, not able to hear the exact words over all the hubbub, but getting the general gist of it when Milly half-turned to point at him. He couldn’t help it when his mouth flattened into a straight line and his eyes awkwardly averted themselves…before immediately flicking back over to the conversing pair, slightly afraid he’d miss something yet shaking in his shoes  at the thought of a shaking head of denial.

Milly patted the counter, before wandering back over to the group of them all, teammates sitting up straighter in their chairs and against the wall, eager eyes fixed on their captain, anticipation shimmering in their eyes.

Nate swallowed nervously, his hands still shaking and stomach still rolling. He was sure he looked as pale as he felt, as sickly as he felt. Milly’s avoidance of his stare was unnerving.

“I think I’m gonna go.” Milly came to a standstill in front of Nate, her expression unreadable, and before Nate could even stutter out an urgent ‘why?’, someone down the line beat him to it.

“It’s getting late, and we know she’s okay.” Milly paused, not quite knowing what to say, “I don’t want to overwhelm her, and we’re not gonna see her tonight, anyway.”

Nate blinked, jaw ticking, and when he looked back up, the corridor was nearly deserted. Milly was hovering near him, watching as the last body filed around the corner, shoulders slumped as she disappeared from view, before turning to him, “They said the doctors would be less likely to let anyone in if there was a massive group of people outside the room. I don’t know it’s gonna help your chances now, but…”

Nate felt his jaw drop before he registered what he was doing, quickly clamping it shut with a grateful nod of his head, “Thank you.”

She shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“You can stay, too, y’know–”

“Oh, no. I appreciate the offer, but if me not being here is the difference between you getting to see her or not, I’d rather not risk it.” She breathed a laugh, “Besides, I’ve got kids waiting for me at home.”

He nodded absently, and Milly had the strangest sense that he wasn’t completely there. He was inside his head, eyes a little bit unfocused as he looked in her general direction; his knee was bouncing, whether he’d noticed that or not she couldn’t tell – but she knew none of that would disappear immediately. At least, not until he’d be granted permission to enter the room and see her for himself.

And for that reason, she chose not to offer any words of comfort – they’d fall on deaf ears. Instead, she did something she’d been working up the courage to ask him for a while now..

“Um, this isn’t the right time to be asking this, I’m well aware, but you wouldn’t happen to know any sports psychologists I could get in touch with, would you?” 

For a harrowing and humiliating moment, Milly thought she’d just have to turn around, that the slight furrow of his brow as he stared relentlessly at that spot on the wall was just because she interrupted a comforting silence, but five seconds passed before she realised he was thinking.

His fingers fumbled with his phone as he removed it from a pocket, and she started, heart hammering in her chest when it slipped in his grip, before he caught it and switched it on.

“I know a few, actually. I have a few numbers if you want me to send them to you?”

She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Do you have a preference as to whether it’s a guy or–”

“No.”

She passed him her phone, watching as he typed in her phone number, still watching when her own phone lit up with three notifications of contacts he’d shared with her. When he passed her own phone back to her his eyes looked less troubled. They’d cleared up, less red than they had been, and he’d clearly been glad for a distraction.

“Thank you.” She breathed, managing a smile, “Hey, you can sit on the bench now everyone’s gone.”

Nate nodded, but made no move to get up. He wasn’t entirely sure why but the thought of sitting on the chairs instead of the floor felt way too real – it’d just solidify the reason that he had a right to sit there because of someone in one of the rooms, and his very bones felt heavier at that thought. 

Milly grinned, “She’ll be fine.” 

He said nothing to that, just gestured half-heartedly at the floor, “It’s cosier here.”

***

Mia had never been so achy and sore without exactly remembering what she’d done to feel those consequences. Everything hurt: her legs, her hips, her arms, her ribs, her head – gosh, her head! It felt like she’d been laid underneath a pneumatic drill and lived to tell the tale. Her nerve endings were on fire, mostly throughout her entire body and the sheer strength of the pain rendered her…well, she was so exhausted she couldn’t really cope with being awake for longer than a minute or so.

Her eyelids would get hot and droopy, and despite how hard she tried to keep herself awake, for her parent’s reassurances, the screaming agony in her head sent her eyes rolling and she succumbed to a brief period of sleep. Still, she didn’t feel a single ounce better having napped at all. If anything, each time she opened her eyes it felt as though the pain magnified for a brief second, like her body forgot it had been pumped with painkillers and she was just experiencing all the pain she possibly could.

That wasn’t even including the odd patches of her memory, though that she learnt through what she’d been told. Apparently this game wasn’t the one they’d won by a landslide – that had in fact been a month ago, yet she could still remember going to the grocery store three days ago and even though she was pretty sure something was missing from the hospital room, she couldn’t quite find the words for it and when she’d rather blearily croaked that concern she’d been thrown a quick ‘don’t think too much right now, honey’.

But she had seen the shared glance between her parents right before she passed out for the umpteenth time.

Needless to say, she did wake up with the answer right at the front of her brain – it felt remarkably like finding a pair of sunglasses you’d forgotten you owned.

“Whe–” Her eyebrows knitted together and she peeled her eyes open to…an empty chair. Followed by an empty room.

She shut her eyes, able to still picture the blank screened-TV on the back wall, the shuttered blinds to the windows on her right and the lone lamp on at the end of the room. She’s never had a concussion before, and with the way she was feeling right now she didn’t have any plans of ever having one again, at least if it was up to her.

She had no idea how Nate functioned. 

Nate. She tried to sit herself up properly in bed, the thing she’d been on the precipice of remembering flashing to the forefront of her mind, but all the motion did was send her stomach rolling, and before she could even think, her hands found the cardboard bowl laid on her lap, like someone had put it there in anticipation of this very moment, and heaved into the bowl. The pressure in her head sent a blinding pain from the temple with the bandage over it, right through her brain to her ear on the other side and all behind her eyes. She almost passed out again right there; she could feel the blood drain from her face and the familiar whooshing feeling as though her consciousness had fallen through her body and into the mattress beneath her. Her vision went black, spotty around the edges, but for some reason she could hear the sound of a door opening and closing, the rushed footsteps that only seemed to get louder and the hushed, reassuring voice in her ear as a warm hand helped lower her back against the pillows.

She knew just from the slight cloud of familiar aftershave that billowed around her exactly who it was. She might not be able to do much, think much or remember much at that moment, but Mia could recognise familiarity. It was like muscle memory, except her brain could decode it easily.

She kept her eyes shut and screwed up, willing the dizziness away – it gripped at the base of her throat and if she could compare the sensation to anything else, it was remarkably similar to how she imagined falling through a dark abyss whilst being unrolled from being tangled in some kind of tape. The scrunching up of her eyes, however, pulled awkwardly at something stuck to her temple; it sent a sharp stab of pain right across her cheekbone and into her hairline, and before she could even register what it was her fingers had found a padded sheet taped across the side of her face.

A band-aid.

Once the dizziness had subsided, she slowly peeled her eyes open, millimetre by millimetre, as if she was afraid something might jump out at her if she ripped them open too quickly.

Nate was sitting looking very awkward in the chair closest to the bed, one of his hands holding the cardboard bowl on Mia’s lap and the other gently tugging her hand away from her bandage. 

She could see there was a brief moment when she looked at him that something had changed, a window shattered somewhere perhaps. He looked like he’d been through the wringer: hair messed up (very uncharacteristic), cheeks somehow even paler than usual, eyes red, hands shaking, and fearful.

She couldn’t say for certain why he felt the latter but she could read it in his face, in his body language. She’d never seen him look so not-okay and put-together before.

In hindsight, it was not only cruel to do what she did next, but given the events of the day and how completely naive she was to other people’s experience of what happened, it most definitely was not the best idea:

“Are you a doctor?” She mumbled blearily. Mia was never really that great at pretending to do anything, whether it was a little white lie or something just to rile someone up, but there wasn’t much pretending about how tired she was or how confused she was in that moment; the blinking and the blank stare were all real, and in Nate’s eyes, borderline apocalyptic.

See, he’d been informed of her condition and spotty memory, but no one could say for certain just what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’ because there were so many inconsistencies and no one had really wanted to poke around where there were gaps in case it just caused more frustration than hope, so this four word question? Completely believable.

He saw Mia laid in bed, and taking into consideration what he’d previously been told, he figured it made sense. That didn’t mean to say his face didn’t drop further or his stomach didn’t plummet to the floor below or he didn’t feel the familiar twang of bile rising or the world didn’t just flip on its axis.

His entire relationship flashed before his eyes: four years, a dog, a house, two cars, dates, holidays, vacations, inside jokes, and it all crumbled at his feet with a simple question.

He’d run through it in his head, the possibility that she might not remember him quite yet, and it was understandable. He wasn’t mad at all, in fact he was all too willing to take a step back and let her recover in a more familiar environment where he was potentially isolated from her and everything he knew, but that had only been a possibility. Now it was looking like a reality and the only thing he felt was panic. There were alarms blaring in his head, loud protests, screaming, yelling, tears.

And somehow all he could do was blink the tears back and create some space between himself and her bed. Emotionally he wasn’t sure how to proceed but he could physically feel an invisible hand pushing him back against the chair, away from her.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes seemed well up of their own accord, and before he could even excuse himself from the room she spoke again.

“I was just kidding.” 

He blinked, his arms freezing from where he’d gone to push himself out of the chair, and he couldn’t really bring himself to move other than to drag his blurry eyes over to Mia, his jaw clenched and his guard still up just in case she still got it wrong.

He sniffled, inhaling through his nose, and not daring to ask if she was sure. But despite looking as though she’d been hit by a bus: a band-aid stuck right over her temple with stitches hidden underneath the plastic; purple eye bags; slow, lethargic blinking; an empty stare – Mia managed to look guilty. The corners of her mouth were pulled down, and her eyes were wide, almost like she couldn’t quite believe she’d pulled it off herself. 

And if he was being honest, Nate probably would have still had a hard time believing she actually did remember him if it wasn’t for her hand. It wasn’t something specific, but she’d placed it on his knee in a hurry when he’d made to push himself out of the chair, almost as if the prospect of him leaving wasn’t something to be desired. 

She was just as scared as he was.

Nate sniffled once more, allowing himself to settle into the chair and scoot forward again. The tears hadn’t disappeared, nor had the trembling, but his heart had eased up slightly once the realisation that, no, she hadn’t lost her memory of him had sunk in.

Then, and only then, he managed to speak, “You’re such a meanie.” It was more of a broken croak that had to be deciphered than something more intelligible than he would have liked, but after she winced at the volume of his voice already he found himself glad he sounded as broken as he felt.

She tried to smile, but her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord part way through the action, and she sighed, clearly completely drained, before rubbing her closed fist in a circle over her chest.

Sorry.

He shook his head despite the futility of it, and instead took the rather chilly, limp hand still resting on his knee into his grasp, leaning further forward so he was pretty much level with her. He allowed himself to breathe for a second, probably the first time he’d managed to do so since it had happened, and even though the tightness in his test remained, even though he still felt pretty emotional, he could at least look at her – like he’d done so many times in his life already – and know she was okay. 

Up close, he could see the plaster on her temple was darker in the centre and peeling at the edges slightly from where they’d pressed it into her hair, and on the other end he could see where someone – Mia herself – had started to pick at the edge, most likely out of curiosity. There was bruising along her cheekbone, and he knew from when he’d walked into the room in the first place that she had some other bruising on her jaw on the other side of her face from where she’d smacked into the grass.

That wasn’t even mentioning the dislocated shoulder, which, for now, was secured in a sling.

He was almost scared to touch her, not quite sure what would hurt or what wouldn’t, and before he could even deliberate any of that she was blinking again. Awake. She inhaled through her nose, wincing when her shoulder moved fractionally with the effort, and came to slowly. It was as though she was surveying the room for the first time again: her eyes were curious but not wide and she squinted at the light emanating from the little lamp, and Nate had to wait patiently for her to sweep her gaze around to him.

He tried a tight smile, his hands still clutching her free one in a warm embrace, and he could see the cogs benign to turn in her mind as she remembered when he’d come in. She eyed him sceptically, but this time (before his mind could run away from him) she gave him a lazy side-eye of sorts.

He breathed a laugh at the expression on her face, reaching over to smooth some of her hair down. He made sure to be gentle, not pulling on the hair too hard or pressing down on her head – rather just let it float back over to the right side of her parting, watching it fall as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what Mia had been expecting though because when he pulled back a little bit her mouth was pressed into a tight line.

“What?” He breathed a laugh, leaning forward on his palm to flick away more stray strands of hair. It seemed the closer he got the more he noticed that no one had taken particular care in brushing said strays out of her face, because he knew, even from looking at the way her nose kept twitching, that the tickling was intolerable. 

“When can we go home?” 

Nate swallowed, unable to look her in the eye as he shrugged. Nobody had told him anything. Her parents had left and told him as much as they could but they couldn’t say anything apart from the fact that she was okay – in fact, nobody even knew he was in here. His (almost) in-laws had gone to the cafeteria, running on nothing but coffee, and there hadn’t been anyone else really around when Nate heard the tell-tale sounds of…yeah. Needless to say he hadn’t really thought twice about bursting into the room to help her. She wouldn’t have if the situation was reversed, though from experience she did tend to lie to the medical professionals and just say they were married, something that had rather inconveniently slipped his mind in his panic-fueled state.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, if the quietness of his voice could even be considered such a thing. A fairy-whisper, perhaps: delicate, blink and you’ll miss it kind thing, “You’re on stroke watch, sweetheart, I don’t think it’ll be for another day or two.”

Her eyes shut again, and if it wasn’t for the tick in her jaw, Nate would have guessed she’d just fallen unconscious again.

“Are you okay?” He’d said them before he could stop himself. They’d been on the very tip of his tongue all day nearly, and his will had worn so low that he’d just given up and given in.

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting much of a reply. Mainly because he knew concussions were hell on earth, especially fresh ones as bad as this, but also because she’d been poked, prodded, sewn up, and asked things already. She must be sick of it all, but…he had to know. 

She kept her eyes shut but her free shoulder shrugged as best as it could, “Hurts.” She mouthed.

Nate nodded, resisting the insurmountable urge to squeeze her hand and take all the pain from her, “Tap my hand twice for yes and once for no, ‘kay?” 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards briefly, and he couldn’t help himself when he dropped a quick kiss on the back of her hand – though he couldn’t say for sure if it was supposed to help her more or help him more. 

Tap-tap.

“Do you need me to do anything? Get anything for you?”

She seemed to think about it for a second before pointing at something on the far end of the room and tapping his palm once.

He frowned. Lamp, no?

“Lamp off?” He thought out loud, pushing himself out of his chair eagerly when she tapped his palm twice again.

The thought of using the torch on his phone didn’t really occur to him when he was blindly trying to make his way back to his seat, and much to Mia’s dark amusement he walked into the end of the bed and tripped over the legs of two chairs on his way back. 

“Anything else?”

Tap.

He waved his hand in the dark near where he guessed her arm to still be held up, and dragged his fingers up her forearm to interlock their hands like before. 

“Is the dark better?”

Tap-tap.

He sighed. It wasn’t because he was fed up – not one of those sighs – or because he was relieved, per se. It almost felt like an instinct or a habit, like when he gets into bed and manages to find a comfy position, or when he steps out onto the ice first thing in the morning when no one else is around. It was a sigh of satisfaction, yet he didn’t feel at all satisfied by anything. Sure, he was happy that he’d adjusted something to Mia’s liking, but there was so much more he wanted to know.

Where did she hurt? How much did it hurt? Did she remember last night? Is she gonna recover in time for the play-offs? 

They weren’t yes or no answers, and the last thing he wanted was to bother her. She needed the peace and quiet and the dark and cold and someone to make sure she wasn’t going to stroke like someone had off-handedly said in the hallway. Nate knew he wasn’t the only person who could give her that, but he was glad it was him sitting there holding her hand and listening intently to the sound of her breathing and the rustling of her pillow.

It sounds crazy, he knows that, but he was horrified. Less than fifteen minutes ago he was so sure something life-changing had happened that meant he wouldn’t be allowed here. He knew head injuries were unpredictable, and he knew he should be somewhat irritated for the stunt she pulled earlier, asking if he was a doctor, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be so. That one interaction had alleviated the worries and concerns he’d had – the ones that were driving him to the brink of panic attacks pretty much – more than any words anyone had spoken to him over the entirety of the night so far.

It meant Mia was still Mia, and even though she might have changed, she was still the same person. And he was going to sit with her in the dark, holding her hand, pretending he was now okay, for as long as he was allowed–

“Are you okay?”

Even in the dark his eyes turned to look at where they knew she was. He was speechless for a few seconds having thought she was asleep and stuck so far in his own head that he hadn’t even considered the alternative.

He just hummed, which earned him a meaningful tap on the palm.

No.

“It was just scary for a minute, but I’m okay now.” Then he shook his head, almost-scoffing, “I should be asking you that.”

There was a half-hearted sigh, “Been better.”

***

Mia was sick and tired of the injuries after two days at home, bed-bound by a rather strict blonde that had a penchant for frowning and putting his hands on his hips when she suggested getting up and moving around. In all fairness, she could see where he was coming from, but in her defence she needed to know she was capable of a quick lap around the house, headaches and shoulder pains be damned. 

To have gone from training numerous hours per week – per day, in fact – to suddenly not being able to cope with being in a sunlit house in a room that wasn’t the bathroom or the bedroom. She was going stir crazy, and boredom was going to be her demise, she knew it. She could feel it atrophying her soul already and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take being holed up in bed, not allowed to use screens or read or think.

Doctor’s orders. 

Although, having said all of that, Mia did find herself waking up from a nap she didn’t remember succumbing to most of the time. She must have slept on and off all day for two days, but it felt like she’d not even shut her eyes for an entire week. And the pain, oh, the pain.

Her shoulder ached each time she so much as tensed something, though that was the least of it: the dislocation hadn’t been too ugly – quickly put back in, no soft-tissue damage. Didn’t stop it hurting, though. The biggest issue, Mia couldn’t quite get a hold of. She couldn’t decipher what was the concussion, what was the temple laceration or what was the bump on the head from the ground. Somewhere along the lines, all the pain blurred into one and it just felt like her head was splitting open from the inside.

The door creaked open gently, firstly with a soft pop, like the familiar noise of when Barney would push it open with his muzzle and the handle would click out of its place, before a familiar soft pat-pat of paws could be heard vaguely padding across the carpet. It if wasn’t for Nate’s strict rule-abiding of orders (he did right, to be honest), the sound of Barney preparing himself to jump onto the bed wouldn’t have been heard. In fact, if it wasn’t for the noise of the door clicking open, Mia probably wouldn’t have blinked awake again. 

It was dark outside, the lights from the garden shining through under the blackout blinds. It wasn’t bright enough to trigger anymore headaches or a potential migraine, what with the bouncing agony from her bruises and bumps doing enough already, but it was enough to cast a sliver of dull light across the bedspread.

Mia reached out blindly, patting the duvet next to her, already anticipating the soft bark of acknowledgement before the toffee spaniel had made his way into her personal space, his nose pressed against her thigh as he laid out right next to her. She ran a loving hand through his fur.

Nate hadn’t let Barney in the room without him watching, mostly because he was a little unsure as to whether the newly-trained dog would adhere to the ‘calm’ rule he’d hoped to implement somehow, and Mia had commented on it, a quick ‘he’s a dog, they have senses for this kind of thing’, and all Nate did was sigh and watch on with a worried gaze. Needless to say, Barney hadn’t barked in her face excitedly or run across the bed or unintentionally nudged anything he shouldn’t have done, and Mia couldn’t quite tell if he was in the room now because Nate had let him upstairs or if it was just a happy accident.

Barney sniffed, and Mia paused, holding her breath in the darkness. At the same time, Barney’s ears flopped and the steps creaked, before an unmissable hiss of, “Barney?” could be heard from further down the hallway.

She felt her eyes shut again, sleep begging to reach out and pull her under again – it was the dog, he was just so warm and cuddly she was practically being lulled back to sleep with his rhythmic breathing – but she resisted, instead focusing on the hand woven into his fur until Nate inevitably noticed the crack in the door.

He didn’t say anything when he opened the door even further, didn’t say anything when he crept around to his side of the bed before pulling himself onto the mattress, the covers dipping with his weight. Barney looked up at him, and Mia felt rather than saw his hand also go to pet the dog between them.

She lifted her hand, before briefly ticking his arm to let him know she was awake, and cracked her eyes open. 

He was in his pyjamas, clearly already having showered. He’d taken to using the spare bathroom instead of the en-suite, completely adamant on not wanting to disturb Mia even though she’d told him she wouldn’t mind, and Mia knew, probably better than most people, that it was difficult to change Nate’s mind when he’d already decided what he was gonna do. 

“Did Barney wake you up?” He whispered, pushing himself further into the bedding. Mia could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, could smell the shower gel and shampoo he liked. He’d literally just gotten out of the shower.

If she had more energy she would have turned to look at him: there was something about post-shower Nathan MacKinnon that Mia found downright irresistible. In four years, she still hadn’t managed to figure out what it was, but it definitely had something to do with the flushed cheeks,  damp hair and untamed curls. 

As much as he tried to tidy it with gel, Nate couldn’t escape the fact that his hair could be wild, and in the last couple of years it had only gotten worse.

“No, I was already awake.” She whispered, the force of trying to talk still putting more pressure on her bumps and cuts. Whenever she spoke out loud it felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head and her ears were going to bleed. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.

She turned her head in his direction, just able to make out the silhouette of his side profile: crooked nose, damp Prince hair, philtrum, mouth, chin. She couldn’t turn her head too much to the side, the lump around the back of her head making getting comfy even against a pillow difficult, yet the slight movement, slight rustle of the sheets had him almost instantly turning towards her. That was something she’d noticed that had changed: he seemed to jump at anything she did, whether it be to reach a hand out to grab her water bottle or simply turn to look at him.

She could imagine the wide eyed gaze as he scanned her face for signs of pain until he relaxed when he realised that all it was was shuffling. The alarm bells were still ringing.

There was a brief pause, and Mia took her hand out of Barney’s fur to poke Nate in the ribs. He jumped at the contact, still unused to the darkness, and grabbed her hand to stop her doing it again, breathing a soft, amused laugh, “Liar.”

“I was gonna wake up soon anyway.” 

“You hungry?” 

“Yeah.”

Mia felt herself relax under his touch, his fingers playing with hers, finding their way in the dark across the back of her hands right around to her palms before straightening her fingers and placing a delicate yet hurried kiss to the back of her hand. She didn’t even have enough time to query exactly what it was he was about to do before he’d pushed himself up off the bed, Barney sitting attentively, and placed his hands on his hips leisurely. 

“You want anything specific?” Nate asked, absent-mindedly placing his leg on the bed to stretch out his hamstring. 

“What did you have?”

“Chicken and chorizo pasta.”

“Can I have some of that, please? It sounds so good right now.”

There was a muffled sound, crossed between a sarcastic scoff and a snort of laughter, “No. You absolutely cannot have it right now–”

“No–”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do your dressing first. C’mon.”

Mia groaned, pulling the duvet back up to her chin to give her some protection before Nate would undoubtedly just rip it off her and pick her up, like he had the past four times he’d changed her dressing. The first time she did it there was little resistance from her end, mostly because she had no idea that cleaning the wound was going to be that nauseating, but also because she literally couldn’t be bothered trying to resist a hockey player that boarded men twice her size on a regular basis. 

Now, though? Not only did she despise the entire process, but she couldn’t deny the fact that being difficult was rather amusing for her – mostly because of how Nate handled it, because he handles it. She’s never heard him talk so much yet so calmly all whilst trying to scoop her up without simultaneously accidentally hurting her.

“-five seconds and it’ll be done until tomorrow, and if you think about it–”  he made his way around to Mia’s side of the bed and she felt her face screw up in dread almost automatically when he began trying to tug at the duvet she’d gripped as tightly as she could, “-if you really think about it, the food is kind of like a reward, and it’s better to get it done now rather than spend the next, like, forty minutes worrying about it–” he sighed, cutting himself off and staring at the scene in front of him. Mia knew him well enough to know stillness and silence meant he was thinking.

“What are you–Put me down.” Mia watched as Barney scurried off the bed, the duvet disappearing under him as Nate managed to force his arms underneath her body to lift her up, duvet and all. 

“Never.” He breathed in her ear before laughing like a Disney villain, managing to somehow look down at his feet to make sure he didn’t trip and cause another trip to the ER, and no matter how much she moaned and groaned, Nate didn’t put her down until he’d made it to the bathroom and placed her ever-so-gently on top of the lid of the toilet.

It was cold against the plastic, much colder than the sanctuary of the bed with a dog cuddled up to her side, and Mia shivered in her shorts and t-shirt, goosebumps arising on her skin – something that didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Nate. He took one look at her shivering and opened the bathroom blinds to let in some dull, natural light before turning around and grabbing a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the floor he hadn’t had chance to tidy away, what with the hustle and bustle of trying to look after everyone (not that he minded; in fact, Nate loved looking after Mia, even though he’d never voice it, but the circumstances surrounding the situation were a little too shitty for his liking), and tossed it to her.

What he really wanted to do was tell her to lift her arms over her head, but he knew coddling someone who already hated people doing things for them would only make the irritation worse, and instead reached for the basket of supplies he’d been given from the hospital, along with the set of instructions and the bowl for Mia as a ‘just in case’...the last thing anyone wanted, including Barney, was a repeat of the first time he’d done this. 

He could still picture it so clearly in his head.

When he turned back around, trying to read the pamphlet by moonlight and garden-light, Mia had her eyes closed and was running her fingers through her hair, wincing each time she accidentally pulled a knot. 

He couldn’t help watching her for a moment, almost mesmerised that someone could power through that amount of pain administered by themselves. Gosh, he loved her to smithereens.

“You ready?” He propped himself on the edge of the bathtub, back hunched over slightly to get himself eye-level with the plaster stuck to her temple. It was thick, most likely incredibly uncomfortable, and half-stuck in her hair. It was the only way the stitches into her hairline would be protected when she was laid down, or doing anything, really.

She nodded, and he kept his eyes fixated on her side profile, eager to drink in any possible changes in her expression that meant she was uncomfortable with anything he did. Sometimes it was a miniscule scrunch of her brows, other times it was an involuntary wince displayed by her mouth. He’d noticed her breathing changed when she was in pain too, which was a rather odd thing to come to recognise – watching someone you cared about hurt was one thing, but to watch them be in pain so constantly that you can recognise the little things? It was strange.

“I’m so hungry.” Was all she said, scooping her hair to the other side as he leant forwards to start to pick at one of the edges. It didn’t take much. He wasn’t even sure if Mia was aware she was doing it, but there was one edge right above her cheekbone that had been so obviously picked at that all he really had to do was grab onto the corner and slowly and cautiously pull. He kept one palm on the side of her head at all times, ensuring her hair remained out of the stickiness, his eyes darting from what he was doing to her face every few seconds.

Once he’d removed the plaster completely he folded it in half, balancing it on the side of the bath before doing something he’d not been able to do yet: dampen a clean washcloth with water, and gently dab the stitches. 

Mia’s face contorted almost immediately, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her mouth pulled up at the corners in a grimace, but she held still, keeping her gaze level and forward, hands clutching the bowl on her lap.

“Let me know if you want me to take a break or if I’m pressing too hard, okay?” Nate murmured softly, still dabbing at the wound.

He was never really one to be able to stomach the sight of wounds – at games he didn’t really have a choice, but at least then he could avert his eyes when he saw something that made his stomach turn and his head spin. This time was a little bit different, in fact, this entire situation was completely different because it was one thing thinking about it and another thing doing it for Mia. He had to do this, partly because he wasn’t about to let Mia do it herself, but mostly because he didn’t trust anyone else not to press too hard or to take as much care in the job as he did. It wasn’t a lot, but he made sure he did it right and softly.

It was the absolute least he could do after sneaking away for an hour here and there to practise. Mel Landeskog had offered to come over and keep watch when he wasn’t there, and the entire time he was gone he’d been anxiously checking his phone a hundred times a minute, waiting for a heart-stopping message to come through, and he hadn't managed to tear himself away again. The guilt was one thing, but the anxiety just ate him up from the inside. 

Tomorrow he decided he’d just work out in the bedroom – at least it’d give Mia something to watch when the TV was off-limits. 

“You’re doing great.” Mia sighed, peeling open the eye closest to him and shooting an amused glance in his direction. She was exhausted, but she still managed to find the effort bother to ease his concerns, “I think tomorrow…” She trailed off, silently hissing when Nate dabbed the laceration once more.

“Sorry.” He cringed, putting the washcloth down.

“It’s fine. Tomorrow I wanna move downstairs.” She got out, relaxing once she’d taken note of the put away cloth, and turned her body towards him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with his face but it was clearly something that warranted Mia to start spouting words so quickly he wasn’t entirely sure she was able to do with that bad of a concussion, “The curtains in the front room can stay shut but I kind of want to slowly let myself get used to some light again, and I won’t watch TV or anything.” 

He swallowed, going to pick up the dry washcloth, “What’s wrong with staying in bed?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s shit, I feel like I’m missing out on what’s going on.”

Nate tilted his head curiously, “Nothing’s going on, though. Are you trying to tell me you’ve got FOMO from staying in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. I feel like our living room is, like, the life of this house. Everything happens downstairs.” She reasoned, returning back to her usual position when he raised the washcloth.

“Everything, huh?” He breathed, slowly wiping away the beads of water on her stitches, and those that had escaped and ran down to her jaw, “Guess that means you’ll have to camp out on the couch then. Can't have you miss anything, can we?”

Mia rolled her eyes, and Nate smirked to himself, pleased that she was clearly well enough to tolerate a bit of humour. It was the most alive she’d looked since it happened: she had more colour in her cheeks, something he’d even noticed through the constant darkness; her awake periods were longer than her asleep periods, and she was speaking more. Granted, that was an improvement from that very morning, but she was getting better at a quicker rate than he’d anticipated. Every hour seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, at least until he remembered–

Yep. There it is. The painful twinge of guilt that always seemed to strike him when he least expected it.

He swallowed anxiously, suddenly aware of a breeze against his torso and the faint tugging of his cotton shirt. The distance from where he was sitting on the edge of the bath to the toilet seat where Mia was sitting wasn’t a large one by any means, but it was still tricky enough for him to sit on the very edge to ensure he wasn’t stretching – it was why he had to look down at the culprit, half-expecting it to be Barney slobbering everywhere, and was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar hand trying to get his attention.

He pulled his own hand away from Mia’s head, placing the cloth on the side of the bath once he was satisfied the stitches were dry again before turning back to Mia to give her his full attention. She hadn’t bothered to turn her head, but was instead looking at him out of the corner of her eye, brow narrowed and a slightly suspicious look on her face.

“What?” He asked, automatically wiping at his cheek, expecting a streak of dirt to follow on his palm. Nothing.

Mia just blinked, “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out for a bit then.”

“Spaced out?” He echoed, shaking his head. 

Mia hummed, something subtly changing in her expression, “Away with the fairies.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He raised his brows before letting them drop. He wondered briefly if she was buying his ‘chill’ persona at that moment, hidden in the dark with no real way of knowing what face he was pulling. His back was to the light so he knew he was mostly shrouded in darkness – protected from an observant eye.

The same observant eye that clearly didn’t let up, no matter how splotchy her memory or how much pain she was in, because he heard her tilt her head at him, he heard her brain call him a ‘liar’ and he heard her breathe an internal sigh.

“I’m fine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. The action felt pathetic, like something a stroppy teenager might do after getting scolded. 

Her silence said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I am. I guess I’m just coming to terms with the fact that this is how awful you must feel when I’m in your position after a game.” He mumbled it, but Mia still managed to pick his words out pretty easily – as well as the blatant pretence he immediately then displayed when he turned his attention purposefully to the basket at his feet, bending to pick up a tub of vaseline before taking the lid off and washing his hands once more.

She knew enough to know that when he acted nonchalant after admitting something was bothering him, no matter how little a thing it might seem, that sometimes he just needed that extra little dose of reassurance.

“At least you can understand why I banned you from getting head injuries, then.” She answered, turning herself so she was facing forwards once more, allowing him access to the stitches.

Nate paused, an uncertain ‘meh’ falling out of his mouth, which earned him an incredibly sharp look, “I mean I can, but now I could probably guess you get why I can’t promise you anything because most of these head injuries come from other people.” He was met with silence but he could feel the irritation practically emanating off Mia. Whenever he was right in situations where they’d had small disagreements here and there, usually about some pedantic aspect like this one, she always went dead-silent when he brought up something true. It wasn’t necessarily that she hadn’t thought of it, because the chances were that she had and it was that thing that drove her crazy, but it was knowing what she was asking was completely out of anyone’s control.

“Oh, and for the record,” Nate started, carefully spreading the vaseline against her skin and fighting the uncomfortable tingling in his toes when he ran his finger over the stitches, “I’m also banning you from getting head injuries.”

“I can try.”

He grinned, “‘S all I ask.”

“Me too.”

***

Mia wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing his little…routine. 

Every time he left a room she was in, whether it was to go to another room to pick something up and bring it back or to leave the house entirely, he’d started doing some odd things. First he’d watch her – this, she noticed him doing out of the corner of her eye – like he was giving her a once-over with a pair of X-Ray goggles, no matter how far away from her he was. Then, he’d pretend to look for something, a tissue, maybe, that just happened to be within a five foot radius of where she was sitting, and he used that ploy as an excuse to ‘walk by’ and plant a very quick kiss on the top of her head.

It might not seem odd to anyone else, but it was odd to Mia, mostly because Nate was never really the type to do stuff like that, much less when he was simply leaving the room. He might have done it if she was busy with something and he was off to the gym for an hour or two, but never for simple things. He just wasn’t that type of person.

At first she’d thought nothing of it. Maybe he just liked having her downstairs instead of shut up in the bedroom in the dark all day? That was certainly plausible. 

But then each time he did it, the action seemed to become more noticeable. Like when you hear something irritating in the background – a bird or a screechy voice – and then when you try to block it out your ears seem completely intent on honing in on that one singular thing until it becomes so glaringly obvious and unignorable that you just can’t stand it anymore. The only difference was that Mia could tolerate it, she could definitely tolerate it, in fact she welcomed it. Not only was it a rare and casual display of affection, but it was rare that they’d both be off work for this length of time and be in the house together. 

It was usually an impossible juggle of calendars and flights.

Then, because she’d noticed his little routine, she waited for it. There were a couple of times where he’d carried it out before he even announced he was leaving, a couple of times where he said where he was going first, and then – most interestingly – there were several occasions where he’d stepped out of the room, not said anything, frozen a step out of the doorway and come striding back in with intent and purpose before kissing her on the mouth or cheek depending on what she was doing. It was like he physically couldn’t stomach the thought of not completing his ritual.

It was remarkably similar to his behaviour on game days: he had a minute by minute schedule and order to do things so deeply ingrained in his mind that completing one thing slightly differently would throw everything off completely. He’d obsess over one thing and he wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he’d done it ‘right’, or he’d take it as a sign something bad was going to happen. 

One time he’d almost burnt the chicken in the oven and managed to assume that because he’d eaten burnt chicken (Mia had argued that it was charred nicely – properly done) that his pregame coffee wouldn’t have the same effect and he’d accidentally let his bowels go on the ice, and he’d be worrying about it for the entire game.

There was also the habit he’d taken to performing on Mia’s matchdays, at least when he was there to do it. He’d wake up around the same time Mia did and he insisted on filling her water bottle ready to go and he insisted on seeing her out the door (a kiss accompanied with a rather humorous but altogether fond, “kill ‘em”). If she was being completely honest, Mia found more familiarity in his behaviour this time around with her pre-game thing.

“Alright, come on.” It was Nate’s voice as he threw his car keys up and down, the metal jangling as he somehow materialised right in front of Mia, holding a hand out for her to grab. 

She paused, staring for a moment before following his arm to his face, raising a confused eyebrow. 

Come on? Come on where? As far as she was aware they didn’t have any plans, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have plans considering her brain detested any kind of light brighter than a golden, dim one you might find in a lamp – and that wasn’t even mentioning noise. Anything louder than Barney’s huffing was a no-go if she wanted to have a headache-free day, and that very much included talking.

Nate had never been so quiet around her before, and she couldn’t deny the fact that it was amusing to watch him go to talk before remembering he had to whisper. He’d open his mouth and make a noise, the first sound in a word, and immediately clamp his mouth shut and hunch his shoulders, almost wincing for Mia. 

“Hospital.” Nate murmured softly, splaying his palm to encourage her to take it, and Mia’s mind went blank.

It must have showed on her face because Nate swallowed, the smile on his face diminishing, a rather helpless, “Remember? Your stitches are getting taken out today.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Mia blinked, the lie shockingly falling out of her mouth before she could catch it, “And today is…”

“Wednesday.” Whatever trace of a smile was left on his face that hadn’t already been wiped was completely gone, replaced by concerned brows and a flat line of a mouth.

“Yeah.” Mia didn’t say anything else, mostly out of fear of stressing him out even more, but partly because she wasn’t sure what else could be said.

She reached for his waiting hand, the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, and it was only as she’d stood up – perhaps a little too quickly because the blood rushed to her head – that she could recognise the look on his face was a little more familiar. He was still getting used to the usual worries of watching someone else heal.

“Confusion and brain fog is pretty normal, y’know?” He framed it like a question, but they both knew he was reassuring the little voice in both their heads that screamed something deeper was clearly wrong. Mia just nodded, accepting the baseball cap, eye mask and sunshades he’d just handed her, trying her best not to wobble when he ever-so-carefully tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

There was something about his close proximity that she’d had to endure within the last few days that subtly changed something for her – maybe it was the vulnerability of this entire ordeal; she’d reached a new level of Nate having to look after her considering the fact that she was almost fully dependent on him. In her eyes a switch had been flicked somewhere, and their relationship had just rocketed upwards in intensity. Every little glance he’d snuck at her, even if it was just to check to see if she was okay, and every little thoughtful gesture he’d carried out, all combined with the closer proximity and steady, reassuring hand made her feel a little woozy in a completely different way.

It was why she hurriedly put the cap on so she wouldn’t have to look at him, because she knew what those damned pale blue eyes were doing, and also why she didn’t bother asking about the eye mask, although the use of that became abundantly clear when she climbed into the car.

He wanted to hide the sun for her.

***

“What about your memory? Has any of that changed for you yet, or do you still have those same holes we identified earlier?” 

Mia winced, taking the hand offered to her and squeezed, determined not to look like she was in too much pain. The doctor that was removing her stitches was doing an alright job (she thought at least, she couldn’t say she was an expert), but there was something almost nauseating about the tugging she could feel on the side of her head, especially with how sore and tender her temple already was. 

And the questions weren’t helping, not at all. 

She inhaled through her nose, fighting to keep her voice even, “Some of it’s changed, I guess.” Nate squeezed back three times, “I can remember more of that morning and the lead up days, but I still have moments where I…it’s brain fog, I guess.”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor voiced, and the lack of shock and concern in their voice almost had Mia raising a celebratory fist, “that’s understandable and expected, just as long as it wasn’t anything too important or too obvious?”

“No, I just forgot what day it was.”

The doctor let out a low chuckle, “I think we’ve all been there. There’s nothing like showing up for work on your off-day because you’d been so busy you forgot to check the date. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“Tell me about it.” Mia muttered under her breath, almost deaf to the low laughs from both sides of her as she kept her eyes screwed shut. The blinds in the room were all open, and to top that off the doctor had one of those head torches on, the light glaring even through her closed eyelids. It kept bouncing around her vision as they moved their head, presumably to look at the tray to their right and then to look back at Mia’s head and so on, and she could feel the familiar niggle of something start to prick at the back of her head.

“Okay, stitches are out. Just one moment and I’ll shut the blinds for you.” She felt her own shoulders deflate of their own accord, the tension quite literally seeping out of her once she heard the wheel of the office chair followed by the pair of footsteps walking towards the windows.

It was only when the room appeared to be enveloped in darkness that she opened her eyes. Nate had the stitch-care pamphlet in his hand again, a pen in the pocket of his shirt, and even as the doctor was explaining the next steps for care he wasn’t opting to write much down. Mia half suspected he’d already done extensive research and memorised the care leaflets anyway, but he was always gonna be drinking in information from someone more qualified than what his laptop told him.

The grip he had on her hand had loosened, and the more she looked at him, Mia could see that it was his shoulders that seemed to be tense. It almost looked as though her uncomfortability had been passed directly to him because he was sitting pinstraight in the chair pulled up and he looked so dead serious Mia felt the urge to poke him in the ribs. Let him know he needed to chill a bit more.

It wasn’t anything the doctor was saying, in fact, it couldn’t have been anything the doctor was saying because that body language and that stern, rather timid look on his face didn’t let up, not even three hours later when Mia had curled up on the couch and Nate had taken residence wedged at the other end with a bowl of food – Mia’s to be precise. He’d given her too much and she couldn’t finish it without thinking it was all gonna come back up later, so he’d hoovered up the last of it.

He still looked on edge about something.

So she poked him with her foot, toes meeting a solid thigh.

He chewed, the muscles in his jaw working as his neck snapped to look at her. There was a slight crack in his demeanour then, that brief moment where he thought she was getting his attention for the worst kind of reason, but it had dissolved before she could dwell on it too much.

“Why are you being weird?” She asked, tilting her head and faking an overly suspicious glance that had him freezing right where he was.

His eyes darted across her face, seemingly searching for something to grab on to, but when he came up with nothing he finished his mouthful and shook his head, fiercely denying her accusation.

“I’m not being weird.” He mumbled, a crease between his brows.

Mia pulled a face, “You’re being so weird.”

“How am I being weird?”

Mia gaped, eyes darting to his bowl when his hand trembled and his fork clinked against the porcelain. That one little weakness was enough proof because he blinked at his hand before almost comically turning towards Mia, his cheeks a little red.

“That for one.” Mia pointed out, “And that thing you do when you leave the room, what’s that about? And you were being super weird at the doctor's appointment the other day.”

He huffed a laugh, still staring at her incredulously, “Aren’t you chatty today?”

“I feel so much better.”

“Can tell, you haven’t shut up.”

“I’ve got, like, two weeks of talking to get out of my system, don’t I?” She paused, taking a breath, “Even so, you haven’t answered my question.” Another foot poke.

He hesitated, before ultimately deciding to put his bowl on the coffee table in front of them. Mia watched every move carefully, a hint of foreboding settling in her bones as he reached over to mute the TV. She thought breaching the topic of Nate’s weirdness wouldn’t bring this level of wracked nerves, or this unreached height of seriousness – there wasn’t anything she was aware of that warranted him to do all of those things and then also turn to face her.

“Okay, so, you know how you couldn’t remember stuff after the head injuries, and then you said you could remember stuff at the hospital?” 

Mia nodded, cemented in her spot, unable to say anything.

“How much do you remember of the night before?” 

Mia had seen movies like this: whenever a character asked a question of that gravity with that grave, worried expression on their face, there was always a catastrophic confession coming next.

The difference between those kinds of movie scenes and this one was that Mia remembered the night before. And none of what she remembered would require this level of…solemnity. At all. Absolutely none of it.

She came home from work, they both talked about their days, a movie with dinner, then bedtime. Nothing spectacular.

“Everything.” She said, and this time it was her turn to frown, “Why?”

Nate inhaled, scratching his chin unsurely, before looking her straight in the eye, and with a completely flat voice spat out – with conviction – “I think we’re fighting.”

Mia waited for a moment, just the one, thinking maybe he’d say he was joking or he’d take it back, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to, she laughed.

He had to be joking.

And the fact that he let out a few breaths of laughter himself made her think that he was, but all of that came to a grinding halt when he shut up and instead patted her shin sympathetically, no trace of amusement on his face whatsoever. 

“I’m being serious, sweetheart.”

Mia sighed, the aching in her head returning. The headaches from the concussion had started to subside lately, and the stitches on her temple were healing nicely, it was just the bump that still ached from time to time, from where she’d fallen on the ground. The lump was still there, it was a bit more stubborn than her shoulder and everything else.

“You think we’re fighting or you know?”

He shrugged, “You told me about LA and we–we fought.”

“About LA?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“How do you remember it?”

***

“What did you say?”

Nate froze, the blood in his body going cold at what Mia had just said, and so offhandedly, too. Like it wasn’t this big thing that could change things. Mia had her back to him, licking some honey sauce off a finger before putting on the oven gloves and placing the tray in the oven.

“I told them I’d think about it but I’m gonna say no.” Mia practically rolled her eyes.

In what world would she have said yes? Really. She couldn’t even begin to picture a new life in LA, and for that the answer she’d given them on the phone then and there was a sure ‘no’. She knew without even having to talk to anyone else or think too much about it to know what she was going to do. It had really been that easy.

And, rather naively, Mia had assumed Nate would also have known that.

Only, when she spun on her heel after shutting the oven door, Nate had a strange look on his face: he’d come from a full day of training in the gym so naturally he looked a little haggard anyway – pink cheeks, tired eyes – but that didn’t explain the deep furrow between his brows or the fractional tilt of his head or the unpursed mouth. No, that all equated to confusion, Mia had seen him wear that exact face before. And in this case, his confusion pertained to that of her own loyalty. 

He breathed a short laugh, a ‘huh’, and Mia put one hand on her hip, raising a brow.

“Why?” His voice was tentative, but there was a hint of curiosity that Mia dreaded to wonder the cause of.

“Does it matter?” She heard her voice waver, pitch higher and her metaphorical hackles raise in defence. 

She’d never felt that before with Nate.

He shrugged, moving to sit on an island stool, hands clasped together in front of him, forearms pressed against the marble. His hair looked blonder in the harsh lighting, almost blinding, and when he looked up to speak Mia had to avert her eyes, “Not necessarily,” there was a ‘but’ coming, Mia could sense it, “but what were the conditions?”

Mia shrugged, “Three years to start and a bit more money.”

“How much more?”

Mia felt her eyes widen, “Not a lot. Why are you so interested in this?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you and I want to know where your head’s at.” He blurted it all out after one miniscule moment of hesitation, it couldn’t have been more than half a second, and if it weren’t for the way his hands fell flat against the marble in a display of clear honesty, Mia might have thought he had an ulterior motive.

His contract only had one season left, too. It was a pretty damn odd time for two athletes in Colorado, especially when both of their futures were kind of up in the air. It went without saying that Nate wanted to stay and Mia wanted to stay, but there was also that incredibly slim chance that neither of them did, and they were both a little too afraid to even broach the subject of what would happen if someone got to stay and the other didn’t.

And whether she realised it or not, the ‘can I think about it?’ that had fallen from her mouth when she’d first gotten the LA call – even despite knowing the answer already – had been because of that. She needed a contingency, she needed to go to Colorado with proof that she was wanted elsewhere if she wanted to fight to stay.

And if it weren’t for his hands then, Mia would have stayed at her own side of the counter. Instead, she made her way around to him, pulled her own stool out next to his and twisted her body so she was facing him, her knees knocking gently against the side of his thigh.

“I want to stay in Colorado. I love it here, I have my family, I have my friends, teammates, a dog, you. I have an entire life and the last thing I’d want is to leave it all behind for more money in LA. We’re not exactly short of it in the first place, and it’s not my priority.” She said, as firmly and as gently as she could muster. There was a lull, Nate looking at her carefully, chewing the inside of his lip.

His eyes were darting across the planes of her face as though he was searching for hints of something he’d never find. It was only when she stuck her tongue out at him that he leant on his elbow, his head pointed in her direction.

“And your priority is…”

“Me, I guess. I want to be happy.”

He nodded, “And you’re happy here?”

Mia smiled, “I’m happy here. In Colorado. In this house. In this kitchen. On this chair. With you.” 

It was almost as though the smile on his own face was there without ever really being known to him; the corners of his mouth were turned down but his face was smiling, as though the blush on his cheeks had frozen the rest of him.

“With me?”

“I’m surprised too.” 

***

“Yeah, and then you didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night and you left without saying goodbye and the next time I see you you’re on a hospital bed.” He threw his arms up in a questioning manner, a deeply confused half-smile, half-scowl as Mia recoiled, having severe difficulty in trying to understand his perspective.

“I didn’t ignore you, okay? We were watching a movie and I was tired.” 

Nate spluttered, briefly turning away before turning back to face Mia, who was now grinning like she knew something he didn’t, “What about in the morning?”

“Easy explanation.” Mia shrugged, “I told Iona about the LA offer and she called me at six in the morning to get me into the office to finalise contract terms with Colorado.”

Nate opened his mouth, about to say something before he stopped. He was about to ask why he wasn’t woken up, but at that exact moment his brain seemed to digest the latter half of what was said.

Finalise contract terms with Colorado.

And then he was talking without his brain really knowing what he was saying, “Wait, you finalised a contract with Colorado?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty much the same deal as what LA offered.”

“How similar?”

Mia raised a mischievous brow, and Nate knew what was going to be said next was about to blow his mind. When she looked at him like that, something was gonna happen, and he felt his heart quicken for an entirely different reason than what he’d become used to lately – anticipation. The good kind.

“Five years and a little bit more per annum than what LA offered.”

He blinked. Heart beat six times before he found the breath in his lungs and the voice in his throat, “Five years?” His voice wavered completely against his will, it came out all breathy and mushy, and he wasn’t in control of his own bodily reactions to the load of relief that had cleared itself from his shoulders, not even when he felt his eyes begin to prick with emotion again.

Mia’s smile diminished at his reaction, it didn’t disappear, but the edges were a little softer, more understanding, perhaps. She’d been through a lot lately: hospital appointments, days in bed in pain, meetings with her people, recovery plans, and the one thing she’d been able to rely on this entire time was the big softie sitting right in front of her, getting uncharacteristically emotional at the prospect of her signing on for another five years.

And Mia knew how his mind worked. He’d probably been preparing himself for some part of his life to change, whether it be him moving out of state or Mia moving out of state – so much so that he probably hadn’t been able to let himself even think about both of them staying. There had been a countdown in his head for months.

“Yeah.” She answered, reaching out to grab his forearm. Somewhere in the midst of the clarification conversation he’d turned to sit straight, limbs locked against his torso and hands placed neatly in his lap. She pulled the nearest forearm over to her, using as much of her strength as she could possibly muster, listening to the aching of her shoulder and patting him to get the message across, and he turned his head to look at her again, a watery smile on his face as he lifted his shoulder up and tugged her into his side.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?” He pressed his forehead to the corner of hers, incredibly mindful of any soreness that he knew to still persist, and slumped against the cushions of the couch so he was more laid, legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

Mia rolled her eyes fondly, comfortably adjusting herself in his embrace. Even with a short sleeved t-shirt he was warm – kind of like a massive human teddy bear. Always a great hugger, something she’d actually missed the last couple of weeks, “I haven't signed the contract yet, I was a bit preoccupied after the match.”

She felt him pull away, and when she turned to look at him, his eyes had cleared, that familiar bright blue almost dazzling in the light, and he wore an expression of chagrin, “Hey, I know we talked about it earlier, but you’re really not allowed to get a head concussion again, ever. That shit’s way too scary.”

Mia just levelled him with a knowing expression and he read it easily, muttering a heartfelt, “Congratulations, honey. You’re stuck with me for another five years.”

[userlando]

that anon is a genuis? the showering one 🥺

okay okay I’m still gonna write a full on fic but I wanted to do the showering together rn because I have no shame, but but I hope you enjoy this lil fluffy thing

take care of you (2.k words) lando norris x fem!reader sickfic

You were never sick, and that’s why Lando was getting worried. The both of you had always laughed at the thought of being ill, boasting a little too much about your amazing immune systems and now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

It had started as - what you thought was - a hangover, having a little too much to drink at the bar where Max had practically forced you to come two days ago. Lando hadn’t really been feeling it, still a little sore from the race a few days prior and in need of a night in where he could just relax. But you’d both gone eventually, had a good time and then you’d woken up violently ill the next morning.

Lando had set aside his aversion to vomit, quietly gagging as he tried to nurse you back to health. But it had become clear that it wasn’t just the aftermath of the night before coming to haunt you. Your nose had turned stuffy, voice hoarse and your fevers were running high. Dangerously so. Lando had never seen you so drained of energy before and it was starting to scare him.

He’d ignored your protests of staying away, not wanting him to catch whatever the fuck was making you feel like death was knocking on your front door but Lando was nothing but stubborn, glaring angrily at you when you tried to wave him off.

Max had dropped in to dump a plastic bag of medicine and everything a pharmacy held before fleeing, saying that whatever you had, he didn’t want it. You just wished Lando had the same attitude.

You didn’t want to admit it out loud though, that a part of you was glad that you had your best friend by your side to look after your basic needs when you couldn't. He always ran cold and it was a great advantage as he sat by your side as you went in and out of consciousness, placing his chilly hand on your forehead and cheek to hopefully stave off the fever.

By day two, he’d had enough. His stomach was twisting in worry, and he’d rang his mum three times - looking for advice or anything to help with her in a different country. You’d been a little delirious, skin slick with sweat as you laid on the bed; barely conscious and drifting between that place where you're not quite lucid, but you're also not completely knocked out. Lando would’ve thought that you were sleeping if it weren’t for the mouth breathing and little whimpers you occasionally let out when the pain in your head spiked out of nowhere.

It was three in the morning when you sniffled, waking up from your doze and blinking at him. You looked so miserable that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, brushing a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead and ignoring the fact that your hair was absolutely soaking. Anxiety was already gripping his heart in a fist and he couldn't handle feeding into it anymore, in fear of it bursting at the seams.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, voice quiet as to not worsen your headache but you still groaned like he’d put a megaphone to your ear and screamed into it.

You made a pathetic attempt at shaking your head, and the little gesture made him smile in endearment when you nuzzled the side of your face against the pillow; squishing your nose and mouth into the damp fabric.

“No.” You murmured. “‘s so hot.”

He glanced at the one too many covers and blankets on you, thinking that maybe he’d gone overboard with his mum’s advice to ‘let you sweat your fever out’.

“I know, bug.” He frowned a little. “You’ll be okay soon.”

“I feel like I’ve taken a nap in the devil’s arse.” You complained and Lando laughed, a bit relieved that your humour was still there.

He thought back on his mum’s advice that he’d immediately brushed off with heated cheeks as soon as the words left her mouth. Let her have a shower, it’ll do wonders for her, poor girl.

How was Lando supposed to get you in the shower when you hadn’t even left the bed for days? He glanced down at you and sucked his teeth, hands going to push the covers from your body before he could second guess himself. You made a sound of confusion when he grabbed at your hands, helping you sit up.

“What are you doin’?” Your speech was a little slurred, exhaustion clinging to your very soul and Lando ignored the pang in his chest at your rare vulnerability.

He’d ever only seen you like this when you were pissed out of your mind drunk, or when you were really sad. Or sick.

“We’re taking a shower.” He said, helping you stand up and you went easily, leaning heavily on him because the room was fucking spinning and he’d just said we.

The slow realisation made you yelp as he walked the both of you to the bathroom, and you gripped his hoodie in your hands in a lousy effort to stop him from walking any further.

“We? You’re not seeing me naked.” You said, feeling a little panicked at that thought.

Lando gave you a look you couldn’t decipher, pushing the door open with his foot and guiding you inside. He flipped down the toilet seat lid and gently sat you down and any other day you would've laughed at how much he acted like his mother when she fussed over her son or even you.

“Then we’re showering in our clothes.” He said, like it was that simple but it really wasn't that simple.

“We’re not.” You frowned but immediately stopped because fuck, that hurt your head. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll shower tomorrow when I've got my strength up.”

“You said that yesterday. You’re literally laying in your pool of sweat.” He pointed in the direction of your bedroom as if to get his point across and your mouth pursed in displeasure.

“You said you wouldn’t mention that.”

Lando’s eyebrows climbed to his forehead in exasperation and you flushed hotly. It was embarrassing and he’d promised not to make fun of you. Not that he was making fun of you, but still.

“You’re being an idiot.” He said, watching you pout a little at that and immediately feeling bad. He backtracked. “I mean… I don’t want you feeling faint and falling when I’m not here. I promise I won’t be a creep and look.”

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief and Lando placed both of his hands on his hips as he exhaled, the tips of his ear turning a nice shade of pink.

“Fine. I won’t look too much.” He swept a hand in the air. “Can we please get you in the shower? You’re starting to stink.”

“Now you know how I feel every day around you.” You muttered, ignoring Lando as he repeated your words in a mocking tone. “Okay, can you at least just… Look away?”

He regarded you with a contemplative look before nodding slowly, turning around and you stared at his back for a few seconds before starting to undress. Lando was patient, keeping his eyes firmly on the sink as he heard the shuffle of clothes and your noises behind him. You made a small sound that let him know that you were done and he stretched a hand out without turning or looking, offering his support as you stepped into the shower with weak legs.

You didn’t want to admit that he was right. You were in no shape or form to wash yourself without risking blacking out, but Lando thankfully didn’t say a thing as he let you draw the shower drapes to cover you.

You stood quietly, shivering and a little nervous as you heard him undress, nausea roiling your stomach and tying it into knots and you couldn’t figure out if it was because you were nervous or simply sick. It must’ve been a combination of two, you decided, thoughts spiralling until Lando’s voice echoed in the bathroom.

“You okay?” He asked and you nodded before you realised that he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah.” You flattened your palm against the tiled wall when you started feeling a little dizzy, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can you hurry? I’m feeling sick.”

The weakness in your voice must’ve triggered your best friend into action because he pulled the drapes aside and stepped in, grabbing your hand like it was a normal and every day occurrence to be standing in the shower. Naked.

You opened your eyes to find him looking intensely at your face, eyebrows pulled together worriedly and you gave him a shaky smile.

“Do you wanna lean on me?” He asked, tilting his head to look you in the eyes.

You were about to shake your head when you felt your world tilt on its axis, stumbling a little and Lando was quick to wrap his arms around you. He pulled you into his embrace and took some of your weight off your feet, trying not to think about how incredibly naked and warm you were against him.

He exhaled, feeling your hands weakly rest on his back; like you were welcoming his help and it made something warm bloom in his chest.

“I’m going to turn the shower on now, okay?” He walked the two of you to the corner before reaching back and turning the knob.

There was a sputtering sound before the spray came, and you could feel the cold mist as the shower head splattered cold water by your feet. You hummed in delight, leaning your forehead against Lando’s shoulder and closing your eyes.

“I feel like shit.” You confessed quietly between the two of you and Lando’s hand came up to brush the hair down your neck in quiet comfort. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Don’t mention it. You know I always will.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite decipher, but you let it go when he took a step back into the shower once he’d deemed it warm enough.

The lukewarm water felt like heaven as it pelted down the both of you, washing away the sweat and everything you’d managed to accumulate these past few days. You hummed in pleasure, feeling your hair soak and you pushed your head off his shoulder to look at your best friend.

He was busy making out the hundreds of different bottles, looking lost before he finally found the shampoo bottle. The sight would’ve made you laugh if you had any strength left, but you settled for an amused smile that Lando clocked as soon as he turned his attention back to you.

“Shut up.” He said, seeing the clear laughter in your eyes and you raised your eyebrows as if to say hey, I didn’t say anything. “Turn around and let me wash your hair.”

You weren’t about to protest, doing just that and placing the palm of your hand against the wall to keep yourself upright.

Lando quickly washed your hair, the suds of the shampoo sliding down your face and getting in your eyes and it wasn’t as relaxing as one would’ve thought but he did the job and you couldn’t complain. He even went as far as conditioning your hair, rinsing it off gently before you offered to do the same for him.

“You don’t have to do that.” He scrunched his nose. “You look like you’re two seconds away from falling asleep.”

“Put your head down and shut up. Let me wash your hair.” You tried to sound stern, but you ended up sounding a little ridiculous with your stuffy nose and Lando grinned before complying.

The smile on his face vanished when he realised that he had, in the process, put himself in direct eyesight of your naked body and he struggled not to tense up as he heard the cap of the bottle pop, staring hard at your bare feet instead.

You did a way better job at washing his hair, digging your nails pleasantly around his skull and massaging his curls thoroughly before rinsing the suds off. Lando didn’t realise how relaxed he’d became until he tried to stand upright, hair drooping over his face and dripping wet.

His breath stuttered when you let out a hoarse laugh, pushing the hair out of his face and the movement was so intimate that Lando had a hard time breathing, wondering what the fuck was happening.

You didn’t seem bothered by the gesture though, none the wiser as you picked up a loofah and pushed it into his hands. He blinked down at it like it was a foreign object, trying to make sense of what exactly you were asking of him.

“You want me to wash you?” His voice went high, almost in a squeak and you shot a questioning look at him.

“Yes.” You decided on replying before frowning, adding: “Is that weird? I can do it if —“

“No, no. Um, I can do it, just —“ He was flustered, turning a little in the small space of your shower and trying not to yelp when his arm brushed your naked skin. “Body wash. I need body wash.”

Your face was on fire, watching him pop the cap of the body wash and ripping it off in the process. He made a little sound in his throat but didn’t dare to pick the broken cap off the floor, squirting the liquid onto the loofah before waving it in front of you.

You turned around, figuring that it was maybe a little easier if you weren’t in each others faces and Lando must’ve felt the same because he blew out a breath and started washing your back, albeit a little timidly.

He gained confidence after a few moments, finishing scrubbing you before doing himself and you didn’t call him out on him using your sponge because really, he’d probably done it a million times whenever he showered at your place.

The both of you stepped out, and he was there to immediately wrap you up in a towel before doing the same to himself. You didn’t want to acknowledge your heart, how it was speeding up abnormally so at the sight of him and how sweet he was being. Taking care of you, sending updates to your mum with how you were and assuring her that you were being taken care of. He knew how much of a worrier she was, and it made something immense swell in your chest as he rubbed a second towel over your hair, gentle and so very careful not to snag your hair or accidentally hurt you.

“What?” He halted when he pulled the towel away, revealing your face and your eyes staring at him. He wasn’t sure if it was the shampoo that had gotten in your eyes but they looked like they were on the verge of welling up.

“Nothing.” You replied, voice thick and so obviously lying but Lando didn’t touch on the subject. He made sure to ask later, when the air wasn’t so charged and you weren't teetering on the brink of death.

“Get into bed, I’ll bring you fresh clothes.” He said as he steered the both of you back to your bedroom. Lando stopped as he eyed your bed, a little critically. “You know what, let’s go to the couch instead.”

You laughed, voice a little thick and you reached a hand to weakly slap at his arm.

“What?” He grinned. “We need to change the sheets. Or maybe even burn them.”

“You’re a prick!” The way your voice cracked made Lando cackle, yelping when you shoved him a lot harder than he had anticipated.

Your words may have sounded malicious, but there was an undertone that your best friend couldn’t help but latch onto.

It sounded a lot like, I love you.

don't look at me, i love pain. anyways, hope you enjoyed this little drabble as i go crawling back into my cave to write something better than this. (also how did this turn into 2.6k words? i need help)

[queenuchiha89]

HIII! Anonn requesting the sequel for the Itachi violating little sister fic: *Clears throat*, *speaks into microphone.* YES! It could start slow but definitely happens after he finds out he got her pregnant and starts coming onto her/trynna sleep with her more. Would LOVE it if he noncons his way into making her a willing, brainless bimbo for big bro’s cock. Sasuke’s just (occasionally) watching the disaster happen but always enjoying the show and thinking FOR SURE he’ll say something NEXT time, but next time never comes lol??? Ohh and not to mention will their parents find out what’s going on etc? Will they get strict with her even just after knowing only about the pregnancy? Will they have any suspects in mind??? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES

Seeing as I just received hate for that exact piece of work... *Rafiki voice* it is time! 🔥

*** NSFW ***

*** 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! ***

*** TW. DARK CONTENT!! ***

Part 2.

⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING: this story contains noncon, incest, voyeurism, forced breeding and impregnation, and other themes that may not be suitable for some readers. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

It had been almost 6 weeks since the vicious attack itachi delivered to his little sister Y/N, and for the most part, Itachi went about his days as though nothing ever happened. Y/N on the other hand had not been taking it well. Clearly she was traumatized. Every morning she woke up with it on her mind, and every morning it made her stomach twist, and she would find herself running to the bathroom to vomit. Itachi -while he went about his daily routine without so much as a hint as to what took place- did notice his sister's change in behavior, and began to suspect that he might have gotten his little sister pregnant. Although he thought of the real world consequences of that notion, the thought of him having gotten her knocked up with his fertile Uchiha seed made his cock stir. He had to find out for himself before anyone else noticed.

Y/N sat on her bed, studying for an upcoming test when itachi entered her room with a subtle knock on the door frame. She looked up at him, but quickly looked away not wanting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Little sister, I need to talk to you..." He said as he closed the door behind him. Y/N tensed up in nervous anticipation of what may be to come. "What is it Itachi?" She asked seeming both irritated and terrified. He sat down next to her. "I've noticed you in the morning for the last couple of weeks..." He started looking at her. She refused to make eye contact, not saying a word or making a sound, but her cheeks grew red under the weight of his words. Itachi took a small box out of his pocket and slid it toward her. "here. Take this." He said. Y/N looked blankly at the box that sat on the bed between them. "Itachi I-I.. " she stumbled over her words, deep down knowing he was right. There was a very high possibility that he had gotten her pregnant that night. "Do it... Or I'll make you." He said activating his sharingan. Her eyes widened as she saw Itachi's eyes swirl into a deep red. "Okay, okay! I'll take it just... Please Ita-" she replied, assuring him that she would do as she was told as she took the box and stood up.

Y/N entered the bathroom, her hands shaking from nervousness. She took the test and set it on the counter, following the instructions on the box. Itachi knocked and then entered the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind them. "what did it say?" He asked curiously. "I don't know, it's not done processing yet..." She said softly. The 3 minutes had passed and she reluctantly looked over at the test. "oh my god..." She whispered as all the color drained from her face. She felt woozy. Itachi, seeing her reaction looked at the test on the counter. Positive. Seeing that positive test made a new kind of desire for her growing within him, and he stood her up. "Don't worry little sis. We'll take care of it. Okay?" He said, kissing her forehead making her cringe. "How can I NOT worry itachi?! Y-you got me pregnant!" She said crying into his chest as he held her tight. Itachi lifted her head and forced her to look at him. "Listen to me. You're mine now, understand? I'll take care of the both of you." He replied as he moved her in front of the mirror so she could see herself, and itachi, who stood behind her. He slid his hand slowly along the small pudge in her lower abdomen, feeling his cock stir as he did. "That's mine, and so are you little sis. There's nothing you can do about it now, so you might as well get used to the idea of us being together. God, you're going to look so beautiful round and pregnant with my seed..." She said, his voice heavy with lust as he reached his hand up to grope one of her supple tits. Y/N squirmed in his arms as he fondled her breasts, her nipples hardening under her top as he did. "What did I tell you, little sister? Better get used to it!" He said, his voice more demanding this time. Itachi wasted no time forcing her to bend over the counter in front of the mirror, and before she had any time to protest, his cock was inside of her warm wet pussy. Itachi clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. "Take it sis. You know you like it. Even if you deny it... Your pussy gripping around my cock suggests otherwise..." He teased, his words causing a great deal of shame to rise up from within her. She could at least TRY to stop him, but maybe he was right... Maybe part of her DID enjoy getting used by her big brother. It didn't take long before both of them were cumming together, Itachi collapsing on top of her as he caught his breath. He slowly pulled out of her, and kissed her on the cheek. "You're mine forever little sis. I love you so much." He said as she straightened himself up. "Get cleaned up and you better act normal at dinner. We don't need mother and father finding out about this. At least not yet." He said before leaving her alone to clean herself up.

In the next room, a stunned Sasuke struggles to quickly clean himself up after having jerked his cock off to the sounds of Itachi fucking his big sis in the bathroom next to his room. He felt so ashamed that something so horrible could make him cum so hard, but the sounds of his big sister's cries and whimpers awakened something primal in him every time he heard them. "next time. Next time I'll say something... I swear I will..." He said to himself, as he cleaned the cum off his hand and tried to shake his own shame as he made his way downstairs to join his family for dinner.

A.N: definitely going to keep this one running for a bit. Do I hear a... Part 3??? 👀🤷‍♀️🔥Also, shout out to the artist @Ratsuki_042 for the art! ❤️🔥

[strawberrysodaslut]

On the Road Again - Rockstar!Eddie Munson x GN!reader

tags/warnings: ~700 words // SFW, fluff, no use of Y/N, established relationship no descriptors for reader, sleep troubles, slight mentions of nausea and vomit as well as mentions of the standard toilet system in tour buses, in my writing world the bunks are big enough to fit you and eddie no matter what!

i wrote this for @corrodedcoffinfest’s writing event day 5 prompt as it has officially been the 5th of July for about 2 hours for me so.. yeah. I had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

You’d grown used to the quirks of the tour bus. It wasn’t easy at first. Eddie warned you about the difficulties when you first agreed to come with him on his band’s tour. Living on the road has its challenges, and the bus is as cheap as they could get it. But you’d survived 14 hour road trips, and this time you’d have the love of your life and, most importantly, a bed. How hard could it be?

It was fine, mostly. Although not ideal in the long run, relying on gas station snacks worked for now. The toilet had an odd design where you couldn’t flush toilet paper or any solid waste. Gareth proved this when he forgot and caused a lingering stench on the bus for 3 hours, but you could manage. What you weren’t prepared for was the disastrous effect it would have on your sleep.

At first Eddie; ever the man-child, called dibs on a top bunk. He assured you it would work fine, and while the bed had enough space, the swaying was so bad you almost vomited 3 times in two hours. Jeff only offered to trade after Eddie had convinced the group that the smell of vomit would be even worse than the Gareth incident.

Despite the warm welcome of your stomach settling once you were in the bottom bunk, you still struggled to get to sleep. It seemed every time you would drift off, the bus would make a sharp swerve, drive over what seemed to be the largest rock possible and crash back down, or enter complete road rage over another vehicle and blare the horn.

The next morning when you stopped at a gas station, the first thing you went for was earplugs.

It’s hard to say if the road conditions have gotten better the further on the tour you got, or if your body has gotten immune to disruptions. But, over time, it got easier to get a proper night’s rest.

Still, you dealt with the occasional jolt.

In all honesty, you hadn’t even realised you had fallen asleep. One minute you’re resting your head on Eddie’s lap, his fingers lazily stroking across your head, and the next you have the adrenaline of a caveman being hunted, shooting up into a sitting position and looking around for the source of your distress.

Your panic settles when you feel his warm hands on you. “Hey, hey.” He whispers, gently running his hands up and down your arms. “That was a big one, eh? It’s okay, come back to me, sweetheart.”

You angle your head to look at him. Judging by the deep croakiness of his voice and the light redness of his eyes, he must’ve fallen asleep as well. The constant shows taking a toll on him. He wears a bashful smile as he looks at you through his eyelashes.

Stretching your back, you let out a groan and look out the window, seeing the busy streets of the town where Eddie’s next gig was.

“Are we here already?You ask, looking back to see the other band members staring out the windows like you.

Jeff stifles a laugh. “Already? You slept for four hours.” He says, gingerly pointing to the clock above his head.

He was right. It was almost 4 o’clock, four hours was being charitable.

“Huh,” you say, turning to your boyfriend, who was rubbing his eyes in earnest. He scrunches his nose as rolls his shoulders back slightly. He has less freckles now that he’s not in the sun as often, his under eyes darkened to the point of needing to buy concealer for shows. Yet you still think he’s the most beautiful man in the world.

When he notices you staring at him, Eddie flashes you a smile before wrapping his arms around your waist to turn your back to him and pull you closer. “Guess you’re getting better at this sleeping thing than you thought, huh?” He says, tucking your head under his chin.

You look around at your friends, the energy and excitement of the upcoming show beaming from them and filling the bus, feeling the warmth of Eddie and even the rumble of the old, cheap bus, and you feel at home.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

eddie munson masterlist

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