#i guess i’m heading towards a low again and that’s not even something meds can fully prevent

[honeycollectswhump]

Whump Prompt

Caretaker is obsessive about a recovering Whumpee, to the point that it makes them physically uncomfortable and seize up whenever Whumpee gets close with other people. But Caretaker really cares about Whumpee so they try their hardest to not let this actually influence Whumpee’s recovery and connections.

Do they succeed? Does Whumpee ever notice Caretaker’s inner struggle? Does it create a rift in their friendship, making Caretaker distance themselves from the unknowing Whumpee, before they hurt them?

Does Caretaker snap and become a restricting Whumper to their friend?

[nhl-stories]

midnight love – Anthony Beauvillier

Summary: Hannah was ready to accept her fate as second choice, but a newcomer just entered the picture

Author’s Note: Oh my god I've been working through this for so long and then bam that trade happens. And changed how I was going to end this so I'm a bit distraught.

Word Count: 3.9k

Album Series Masterlist

I can't be your midnight love When your silver is my gold

She wishes she had enough of a backbone to disappoint people, if only in self-preservation. But no, instead Hannah is spending another night as a stand in.

It’s not like these people aren’t her friends, but there’s a hierarchy; they’re Brock’s friends and teammates first, then Cora’s friends and fellow significant others, then at the bottom of the list is Hannah.

At least it’s just a team dinner, not some event where she has to explain over and over again that no, she is not Brock’s girlfriend, just a friend. Usually throw in a joke about taking advantage of an open bar or nice dinner.

His real girlfriend is prettier and more talented, just busy with her emergency medicine residency. Hannah is just a placeholder so he doesn’t have to go somewhere alone.

Don’t worry, Brock isn’t slumming it with the plain-looking girl who works in a fish market.

He’s with Cora: head cheerleader and prom queen in high school, first in her class in college and med school, Miss British Columbia who probably would have been Miss Canada if she wasn’t too busy studying to be a fucking doctor.

Hannah’s only a little bitter.

To be fair, she did it to herself. She spent her whole life as Cora’s less-than-impressive sidekick, she should have seen it coming.

Hannah should have thought twice before introducing Cora to Brock, should have known Cora would charm him and ask him out before Hannah could even tell her how she felt about him. And then it was a year and a half of worming her way into Brock’s heart down the drain.

Brock and Cora are good match. They look like a Barbie and Ken set and then they’re personable and kind on top of it.

Still, Brock can’t seem to take Hannah off a pedestal. It’s a little lower than Cora’s, but a pedestal nonetheless. Maybe if she jumps off, it will put her out of her misery.

“You’re Brock’s girlfriend? The doctor?”

Hannah’s head snaps up from stabbing the cherry in her drink, to see a new face. Anthony Beauvillier, her brain supplies.

“Oh no, just a friend filling in,” she bites back her initial reaction of a barking laugh, “You’re Anthony, welcome to Vancouver.”

“Thanks, so just a friend, what’s your name?”

“Oh, right, Hannah.”

“Hannah since you’re here and not a significant other, I can assume you know all the dirt.”

Hannah blushes under his gaze. His eyes are so blue she can’t seem to keep direct eye contact. So, they keep drifting to his hair, she hadn’t realized he had such soft looking locks since she mostly had seen him on TV with a helmet.

“I guess, what do you want to know?”

She tries to be coy; she definitely knows more than most. She’s so present but so unassuming she guesses she must be easy to open up to.

“Is it really a big deal that Petey brought around a girl?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of exciting off-ice news this season. But I’ve known him for almost 4 years and I’ve barely seen him flirt with a girl, so to bring a girlfriend is kind of big deal. Although between you and me I think he’s been hung up on her for a while.”

Anthony nods.

“The only thing before this was Quinn broke up with his girlfriend from back home and then just started showing up with a new girlfriend like a month later. But Samantha has been accepted into the fold so it’s not really gossip anymore.”

“You really do know the low down.”

“I can’t give you much on-ice info, but off-ice dynamics, I’m your woman.”

He gives her a crooked smile and starts to say something, when a hand grabs her elbow a bit too tight.

“Dinner is starting, I got us seats,” Brock tugs her towards the table that’s filling up.

“Nice talking to you Anthony,” she gently pulls her arm out of Brocks grip.

“Yeah, let’s do it again sometime.”

∫∫∫

“You smell like fish,” Cora says as Hannah sits down next her in the stands.

She pulls up her collar and gives it a sniff, she doesn’t smell anything, “I changed before I came here.”

“I think it’s just embedded itself into your skin at this point.”

“You smelled like a barn when we met and I still became your friend, even though everyone said you smelled like horse butt.”

“Well, the tables have turned and now you’re the stinky friend.”

“Fuck off,” Hannah laughs and flips her friend off.

Cora reaches in her purse for a tiny spray bottle of perfume, “I got you covered my fishy friend,” she gives her a spritz.

“Did I miss anything interesting?”

“I just got here, like 10 minutes before you. Had a last-minute surgery.”

“So, we were both working with guts before we came.”

“Yeah, and hopefully after this, number six will be rearranging my guts.”

Hannah laughs, but it’s hollow. They’ve been together long enough it shouldn’t still sting, but somehow it does.

Thankfully, there’s a big hit on the ice to shift their focus.

“The new guy is pretty cute,” Cora says when play settles.

“Anthony?”

“Yeah, you met him at that dinner thing, right?”

The tone in Cora’s voice makes it clear that she knows something Hannah doesn’t. That she’s toying with her food.

“Mm-hmm, he seems nice.”

“Brock said he was flirting with you. He was all worked up about it too, like ‘this new guy comes in and just charms the first girl he sees, what if Hannah was my girlfriend?’”

Hannah forces herself to focus on the puck traveling down the ice. She can’t look at Cora, let her see something she might jump on

The puck is blown dead, icing, and Hannah tries to keep her face blank when she turns, “He was just trying to meet the group and be friendly.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him. Why would he be trying to flirt with you?”

Hannah bites her tongue, she knows Cora means why would he be flirting with someone at a team dinner, when most women there would be taken. It doesn’t mean it’s any less hurtful. Like Cora isn’t digging her finger into the soft flesh of her biggest insecurities. 

“Brock’s just protective of what’s his,” Cora adds like that’s not another sharp jab.

A wave of nausea rolls over Hannah.

The boys win by one in a mostly winless season, which is good reason to go out and celebrate. Hannah is wrangled into one of Cora’s dresses, and doused in her perfume, and dragged to a club.

One out of three of those things is Hannah’s choice.

“You smell nice,” Brock leans over to whisper in her ear, reaching across her body to steal a gulp from her drink.

Her body involuntarily flushes, like it always does when Brock casually invades her space. So completely unaware of the effect he has on her.

“I smell like your girlfriend,” she hates the way her voice wavers.

“Where is she anyway?” He stares out into the crowd, arm casually thrown over Hannah’s shoulder.

“Dancing with some of the girlfriends,” she waves in the direction the group went.

“Not like you to not join in,” he gives her a smile that used to be reserved for her only.

“It’s been a long day,” she shrugs, “which reminds me, Cora said certain things that mean if I want a good night’s sleep, bring her back to your place.”

“So, I’m scoring off the ice too?”

Hannah gags, “second star on and off the ice.”

Brock laughs and gives her gentle shove.

“I’m gonna get a drink, need a refill?”

Hannah gives him a thumbs up.

She watches him walk towards the bar and Cora appear out of thin air to wrap herself around him. Hannah knows she’ll be waiting on that drink forever.

“Looked like you could use a refill,” a solid wall of warmth slides up next to her, a drink placed in front of her.

She should have been expecting it to be Anthony, but she’s surprised. A warm feeling rolling over her thinking about how Brock thought he was flirting.

“Thanks, Brock’s useless,” she holds up the glass in cheers and takes a sip.

Over the rim of the glass, she catches two blondes sucking face, having their foreplay in front of everyone.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She blurts without thinking of the implication, maybe not caring.

Anthony gapes at her forwardness before Hannah’s brain catches up, “Like to a quieter bar?”

“Sure.”

Hannah takes him to a dive bar, where they drink crappy beer in tall boys and play darts. She’s too dressed up for the location but it doesn’t matter, they only have eyes for each other.

“You worked on a crabbing boat?” Anthony asks incredulously.

The alcohol is already having her run hot, but the focus from Anthony- or Tito or Beau as he said people call him- feels like a direct sunray. She’s the listener not the talker. Yet, there’s something disarming about Anthony, makes her walls fall away, makes her want to talk as much as she listens.

“Yeah, it was a quick way to make a lot of money in a few months, and it was exciting. There aren’t a lot of crabs the past few years so I haven’t had a chance to go back. And I’m not very smart so I have limited options.”

“You’re talking to a hockey player, I’m also not very smart and have limited options.”

“That’s probably explains why Brock and I became such good friends, although he did go to some college,” she grins and throws her last dart.

Anthony doesn’t make a move to start his turn, “so you and Brock were never–“ he cuts himself off with a throw.

“More than friends?” Hannah supplies.

“Yeah,” Anthony visibly tinges pink even in the darkened bar.

Hannah can’t quite vocalize her answer, worried the timbre of her voice will give away all the thoughts and feelings she’s been hiding. She shakes her head instead.

“If Brock was being weird, I think he was just vetting you. As a teammate and if you were worth my affections or something. Not that you were actually flirting with me.”

“I was,” Anthony looks her straight on, no doubt on his face or in his voice.

Something snaps inside Hannah, bursting red-hot in her veins. She’s not going to sit back and wait this time; she’s going to lean into what she’s feeling and grab it tight.

She drags Anthony towards to the back of the bar, pushing him into the bathroom and pushing him against the door once inside. She feels a little depraved, but she drives through the feeling and kisses Anthony.

He’s quick to kiss back, tongue slipping past her lips, gentling her erratic movements. He grabs her hips gently, but firm. He’s a wave of cold water crashing into her molten lava body. Nature in symbiosis.

“I don’t normally do this,” she says between kisses.

He moves his hands up to her waist, he doesn’t stop kissing her, just moves down her jaw closer to her ear, “and this is what you want?”

He sinks in his teeth into the hinge of her jaw, she gasps.

“I want–“ her voice is shaky.

She doesn’t know how to say it or ask for it. She just wants the light of his attention, on her, his whole-hearted focus directed at only her, like no one else exists.

“Cause I want more than a bathroom hookup, but I’ll take what I can get,” she can feel his smile against her skin.

There’s a bang on the door then someone yells, “You don’t have to go, but you can’t stay here!”

It’s like being dunked in the ice-cold Pacific.

She gives him one more peck, “Another time?”

∫∫∫

They find themselves in another bathroom, this time in Demko’s house while the team has a party. Hannah on the counter and Anthony in a vice grip between her knees.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait until after the party.”

Hannah can’t hold back her smile. Hasn’t been for almost two weeks now. They hadn’t seen each other again, but had been texting. If Cora asks, she says it’s Brock being stupid. If Brock asks, she says it’s Cora being dramatic.

“I like it,” digging her fingers into his hair, it’s as soft as it looks.

 “But we can’t take too long,” she adds, though she doesn’t kiss like someone with an exit plan.

“I’ll take my time tonight,” he whispers against her lips.

Voices drift closer to the door when they finally decide to peel apart. Hannah fixes where she mussed his hair as best she can, before peeking to see if the coast is clear.

She makes her way through the kitchen to casually grab a drink and slides up next to Cora and her conversation with the other better halves.

She’s trying to ease herself into the conversation but her mind is elsewhere. In the future and whatever tonight is going to be and in the present glancing over to see Anthony trying to do the same.

Cora elbows her before leaning in, “Classic hot mess Hannah.”

“What?”

“Your very dumb, signature move,” Cora grins, “you forgot to wipe your lipstick off his mouth before you reintegrated back into society.”

Hannah tries to casually glance back at Anthony, he looks towards her at the same time and grins. His lips a shade too pink to be natural. Hannah mimes wiping her lips with the back of her hand, hoping he’ll get the message.

“You dirty girl, I’d recognize that nude berry on any boy’s lips, which honestly let me find you a new color, you’ve been using that for like a decade now.”

Hannah tries to smile through her worry, but Cora knows her well enough to see through it.

“I’m very proud of you for getting him while the getting’s hot, but if you’re worried about me telling Brocky babe or something, don’t worry, secret’s safe with me,” she zips her lips and throws the key over her shoulder.

The giddy nerves in her stomach start fighting the anxious nerves in her stomach.

A heavy arm drapes over Hannah’s shoulder, “There you are, Cora said she saw you but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

That’s the thing, Hannah trusts Cora to keep a secret, she doesn’t quite trust herself.

“Almost feels like you’ve been hiding from me,” Brock laughs at the thought.

Cora joins in and gives Hannah a desperate look to join in as well, Hannah can feel her own laugh is too erratic, but Brock doesn’t seem phased.

“Babe, she’s allowed to have her own life, she’s not just our personal third wheel,” Cora pulls him into her own side.

“Technically Cora, you’re the third wheel to our friendship,” he grins and gives her a peck.

Hannah feels nauseous.

“Oh honey, you’re the third wheel to Hannah and I’s friendship, it’s been around the longest.”

They’re not even acting like Hannah is involved in this conversation, she takes the opportunity to duck out. She grabs another a drink and goes out to the unused balcony. It’s still too cold to hang out there at night, the air is the kind of wet-cold that you can feel in every breath.

“How long have you been in love with Brock?”

Hannah jumps at his voice, barely managing to keep a hold on her bottle of beer.

“I’m not really in love with him anymore,” there’s no use in lying if she’s that transparent.

“Is that why this all secretive?”

Anthony’s eyes are so big, endless blue that Hannah isn’t sure how to read. She wants to learn.

She has reasons lined up: she doesn’t want to effect team chemistry, doesn’t want to ruin her friendships if this goes south, doesn’t want to fall in love with another hockey player.

But all those reasons are logical and rational. And this is emotional in a way she’s not sure she can find room for in her body.

“It’s nice to have something that’s just mine,” she furrows her brow, feels like it’s not quite what she means.

“I’m not the smartest or the prettiest or the most anything, I’m just Hannah. But you act like that’s enough. I’m not just a consolation prize or silver you’re settling for because you can’t have gold.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything for a long time, Hannah feels like maybe they froze outside.

Then he takes a step forward, cupping her face with hands so warm they burn her cheeks. He kisses her slowly; Hannah doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed her like this. Like she’s something precious, worth savoring.

He pulls away and smirks, “I’ve kind of been wishing for silver my whole life.”

“Jesus Christ, is that a Stanley Cup joke?” her smile grows so big it swallows her face.

“Like I’ve said I’m not that smart or that clever either.”

Hannah just has to kiss that stupid smile off his face, not caring who can see them through the windows.

∫∫∫

Brock is pissed.

He acts like everyone doesn’t know what it’s about. Like they don’t notice the glares he sends Beau when he walks into the locker room or how his knuckles go white around a beer bottle when he sees Hannah dance with Anthony at club.

They all let him sulk for a week, without saying anything.

Teammates start to chirp him when it lasts longer.

It comes to a head when Brock goes to a team event alone and brings his mood home to Cora.

“You’re not even his ex or something,” Cora is pretending to be the slowest customer of all time at the fish counter while she complains.

Hannah sort of wishes it was a rush so she could usher her friend away, she’s so over dealing with Brock. The jealousy that she would have killed for a few months ago is starting to become overkill and Hannah kind find it in her to be bothered.

It’s funny that the first time she’s all Brock can think about, is also the first time she doesn’t give a shit about it.

“He’s never had to share you with someone else and now I’m like invisible or something.”

That make Hannah pause.

In all the years she’s known Cora she’s the never been self-conscious, never had a reason to be.

She has to bite back the spiteful smile, it’s nice to be reminded that Cora is a mere mortal too.

“I’ll talk to him, can’t have you feeling lesser than me.”

Cora scoffs, “Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that.”

Hannah rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious bitch, I don’t know why it took so long for it to get through your head, but I’m glad someone finally makes you feel on top of the world.”

The next night Hannah and Anthony are at Brock’s door.

He opens the door and almost shuts it in their face, but Hannah catches the door with her foot and shoves Anthony through the door.

“It’s an ambush babe,” Cora squeezes Brock shoulders, trying to make him unclench an iota.

“I come bearing the traditional British Columbian peace offering, a fillet of fish,” she nobly holds out the wrapped package in her arms.

Brock almost cracks smile.

“Brocky babe, why don’t you help her prep the fish and I will fix Beau here a drink.”

Hannah drags him into the kitchen before he can argue or pout.

She doesn’t really need prep; she knows her way around the kitchen already and the recipe like the back of her hand.

She pulls out a knife and points it at Brock.

“I’ll let you be upset for the time it takes me to cook this fish, and then you’re going to snap out of it.”

She gets to work, “You love Cora, you love that she loves hiking and boating and your dogs. You love that she’s as passionate about her job as you are. You love that she moved the fucking earth to make your dad passing as easy as possible for you.”

Brock’s face is set in stone.

“So why the fuck are you so bent out of shape about me dating someone, to the point where your perfect girlfriend is jealous of me?”

“Of all the people in the world you had to go for one of my teammates? What if something happens and I can’t even think of passing to him or it makes things weird with my teammates.” Brock snaps.

“Cause you’re doing a great job of that right now, Petey says he’s worried you’ll throw a punch soon.”

“Were you just using me until you could land the right hockey player?”

“Not everything I do is about you Brock. Sorry I let you think that for so long.”

She throws some of the fish in the hot pan, it sizzles like her nerves.

“I’m sorry it happened this way, it’s the last thing I would purposely try to do. But can’t you tell how happy he makes me?”

She feels her tears start to fall, hot and heavy. They’ve been locked and loaded for years.

“You didn’t want me when we met all those years ago, and that hurt. And then you fell for my best friend like instantly, and that hurt worse.  You don’t want me that way, so you don’t get to be mad that someone else does.”

Brock looks like he might cry, too.

“I love being your best friend. I love your dumb jokes and you’re stupid fucking laugh. But I can find that somewhere else if you can’t accept this.”

Brock squeezes her tight, she can feel his tears on the crown of her head.

“I want what’s best for you,” he pulls away, “sorry I have a dumb way of showing it, is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Pay my rent when you ask Cora to move in?”

Brock lets out one of his stupid fucking laughs, “maybe by next season you’ll also have a new place to live.”

Hannah shoves him away and plates the last of the fish, “the instant acceptance is appreciated, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

She goes to the dining room where the others are waiting with bated breath, pretending like they weren’t eavesdroping on the whole conversation.

“Hope you guys are ready for some tear-brined salmon for this very emotional and awkward double date.”

Anthony takes her hand when she sits down, she can’t help but kiss him. She likes the view off her pedestal.

[happy-beeeps]

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

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

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

[dearestjake]

Bye my first – Lee Jeno

Pairing: roommate/boyfriend! jaemin x reader x roommate/best friend! jeno

Genre: Fluff/Angst/College AU

Trigger Warning: swearing/unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 6.2k

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AUTUMN

“Hey,” You mumbled, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you held on to the pregnancy test in your hands – the two red lines evident in the tiny space in the middle of the said stick, indicating that you are pregnant and carrying your boyfriend’s child. You were practicing your lines, looking for the right words to say when you face your boyfriend but to no avail, you couldn’t find the right words to say; your mouth runs dry and you stutter at almost every word that escapes your mouth.

“Fuck this.” You muttered under your breath as you heaved a sigh, heading outside your bathroom and making a beeline towards your apartment’s balcony, letting the autumn wind brush through your hair as you sat down, admiring the sunset.

“Long day?” Jeno, asked as he sat down beside you, handing you one of the cans of cold beer he had brought for the two of you.

“Yeah.” You sighed, taking the beer he offered you and placing it down beside you.

“What’s up?” He asked, taking a sip from his beer.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stops for a moment, putting his beer down, averting his gaze from the setting sun to face you, his lips forming into a thin line.

Sighing, he scoots closer towards you, patting your back softly as he picked up his beer and taking a sip from it.

“Yep. Saw that coming, are you going to tell him?”

“Yeah… But I don’t really know how.” You sighed, resting your head on your best friend’s shoulder.

“You can just tell him like how you told me, y’know.”

“It’s not that easy.” You sighed.

“I know, but you have to tell him. It’s his responsibility – You’re his responsibility.”

“What if he doesn’t want it? You know he’s aiming for med school.”

“Then I’ll take care of it. I’m your best friend. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Psssh. Thought you wanted to be an engineer? Didn’t think you’d want to be a dad.” You said, giving him a weird look.

“Yeah. I do, I want to be an engineer. I’m just saying that if he doesn’t want the kid, we can raise it together like how our moms raised the both of us. I mean, it’s not like you can kill a child that easily– unless if you want to get an abortion, then I support it.” Jeno said, shrugging as he took another sip from his beer.

“No, I can’t do that. I–” You sighed.

“You have to tell him. You don’t have to worry; I got your back.”

“You’re not going to beat the shit out of him, are you?”

“I know Jaemin’s my best bro, but you’re my best friend too. He can’t fuck your life up just like that.” Jeno sighed, pausing for a moment to take another sip. “And yeah, I’ll beat the shit out of him if he refuses to take responsibility.” Jeno said, making you chuckle a bit.

“I’ll tell him when he gets home. Promise you have my back?”

“I promise. Really.” Jeno said, giving you a soft, reassuring smile.

Sighing, Jeno stood up from his seat, patting your back before disappearing to his room, leaving you alone in the balcony as the sun sets before you. It was a pretty sight – it was beautiful, but seeing the sun set and the darkness devour the entire city scared you, for that meant that Jaemin will come home and into the front door any time soon. You sigh, hugging your knees as you watched the buildings and the streetlights light up and brighten up the dark night. You sat there, staying still for another ten minutes, staring at the lights from the buildings and streetlights that brightens up the dark night skies of Seoul. You were just about to get up and head to your room when you heard a door open and close, making your heart race at the thought that it could be Jaemin coming through the front door but it wasn’t; it was just Jeno coming out of his room to go to the kitchen.

“Y/N.” He called out from across the kitchen counter.

“Yeah?’ You replied, averting your gaze from the bright city lights to look at him as you stood up and brushed your clothes.

“I’m feeling kind of lazy and we’ve run out of stock. I thought maybe we could order some takeout. Do you want anything?” He asked, leaning over the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know. Anything edible would do, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Is Chinese good with you–” He asked, getting cut off mid-sentence by the sound of the front door opening.

It’s Jaemin. He’s home.

“Hey.” Jaemin greeted, kicking his shoes off at the doorway. “I bought dinner for the three of us. I hope the both of you are okay with Chinese food.” He said, smiling as he lifted up the plastic bag that contained the ever-so-greasy-but-very-delicious Chinese food that he brought home.

“Chinese food’s fine. We were just about to order takeout.” Jeno said, leaving you alone in the kitchen to take the bag of takeout from Jaemin’s hands – just so that Jaemin can take off his coat and hang it on the coat rack by the door and so that he can set the food up.

“Hi.” Jaemin greeted, giving you a quick peck on your left cheek.

“Hey.” You said, flashing a small smile.

“Are you okay? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m fine… but… uh… we have to talk– I mean, I have to tell you something.” You said, bringing a hand up to your forehead to massage your temples in hopes of stopping yourself from thinking about the random thoughts that crossed your mind.

“O-Okay. Yeah, for sure. What is it?” Jaemin said, a hint of concern? confusion? maybe fear too, evident in his tone, but still he tried his best to smile his usual bright smile.

It was obvious that he was scared. He didn’t know what was going on in your head. He was afraid you’d break up with him when he loved you like you were his own world. You were everything to him, you were the first thing in his list of important things and med school was the third right next to his family.

“I-uh… I think it would be best if we talked in private.” You said taking a quick glance at Jeno who stood by the kitchen sink, giving you a nod, reassuring you that everything will be fine.

“Yeah, sure. That’s cool.” Jaemin said, swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat as he loosened his tie.

Taking a deep breath, you sighed, signaling Jaemin to come follow you to your room. You held the door open for Jaemin, waiting for him to get in. Jaemin sat himself down on the corner of your bed as you closed the door behind you. With how you were acting, walking back and forth across the room, Jaemin, being the worrywart he is, was looking at you with a worried expression plastered on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping you in your tracks and cutting your train of thoughts.

“Wha– Yes. I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know how to tell you.” You said, biting the skin around your nails.

It was evident that you were nervous and Jaemin knew that because you only bit and picked at the skin surrounding your fingernails during times when you were nervous or scared, and he knew for sure that it was the former because he was sure that there was no reason for you to be afraid of him.

“Calm down. Sit beside me. Breathe.” He said, patting the vacant space beside him.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what? If anything, I think I should be the one afraid because you pulled the “we need to talk” card on me. Who knows? I don’t know what goes on in your head, maybe you’re planning to break up with me.” He joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“What? No!”

“That’s good then, I guess.” He said, chuckling a bit.

“So…” You started, taking a deep breath and heaving a sigh.

“Yeah? Tell me babe, it’ll be fine. I promise.” He said, smiling a small smile as he held your hand.

“I’m pregnant, Jaemin. It’s yours.” You said in a low voice, though still loud enough for him to hear.

“I–” Jaemin started, stopping himself to swallow the imaginary lump in his throat, evident that he was taken aback by the sudden news that you are carrying his child.

He couldn’t say anything; not because he didn’t want it, and not because he didn’t see it coming. He knew it was bound to happen, he just didn’t expect it to happen now, considering the fact that he used a condom when you did it. But hey, condoms aren’t a hundred percent effective, there’s still this slim possibility that one can get pregnant even with the use of a contraceptive – you just happened to be that one person.

“I mean, whom else would it be? You’re the only one I’ve slept with–” You said, rambling on and on, getting cut off by Jaemin giving you a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’re rambling again.” He said, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“What do we do?” You asked, bringing your hand up to place on top of his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Whatever you think is right for the both of us.” He said, smiling a small smile. “What options do you have? Did you consider getting an abortion? Did you consider keeping it? Did you consider putting it up for adoption? Whatever you do, I’ll stand by you.”

“I don’t want to kill it. I don’t want to give it away either because what if it ends up in an abusive household? I want to keep it, Jaemin, but I also don’t want to hold you back from med school. I mean, you’re only a year away from getting into med school. If you’re not cool with it, then I’ll raise it by myself. I mean, my mom raised me by herself and I turned out fine.”

“What?– No! Of course, I want to be part of my child’s life. I mean it.”

“But what about med school?”

“Med school isn’t going anywhere. I can go to med school later. I’ll look for a job as soon as I graduate. I’ll get my nursing license. That’s good enough for me, as long as I won’t lose you. You know that I love you, right?”

“You can’t just throw your life away for me, Jaemin.”

“I’m not throwing my life away, Y/N. Just think of it as starting a new chapter with you and our kid. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaemin, for deciding to not flake on me.”

“Of course. Why would I flake on you?” He said, chuckling a bit as he pulled you in for a hug. “Now let’s eat our dinner, shall we? I hate cold noodles.” He said, pulling you up from your seat and out of the room, towards the kitchen counter where Jeno was sat, enjoying his bowl of noodles.

“So, guess what?” Jaemin asked, smiling from ear to ear. His eyes were glistening with joy, and excitement, and positivity.

Yes, he smiles a lot. That’s a given. Jaemin is a happy person, but it’s only once in a blue moon that you see his eyes glisten with pure joy and excitement. Even though you’ve been friends with Jeno and him your whole life; growing up together, going to the same schools and university and all that jazz, you’ve only seen the same exact expression whenever he got a new toy that he wanted so very badly from his mom, when he’s about to try a new kind of food for the first time, and when he passed his nursing college exam. Seeing that made you happy, because that made you sure that he wouldn’t leave.

“What?” Jeno asked, not bothering to look at Jaemin. He was too focused on eating his noodles.

“I’m going to be a dad!” Jaemin said excitedly, smiling over at Jeno who stayed unfazed by the news, as he stirred the noodles that he got for you.

“Hmhm.” Jeno hummed, nodding as he took another mouthful of his food.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Jaemin asked, his excited smile turning into a bored expression.

“Hmhm.”

“You’re no fun. You could’ve at least acted surprised you know, even though it’s fake.” Jaemin said, pouting as he handed you the bowl of noodles that he had mixed for you. “Kinda bummed that you knew before I did.”

“Dude, I saw it coming even before she told me. She made me run to the drugstore mid-shower.”

“I did not.” You gasped, appalled.

“Yeah, you did.” Jeno said.

“Oh yeah, I did. Sorry about that. I panicked.”

“Who wouldn’t? It’s cool though. I understand, I’ve been through this–”

“What?” Both you and Jaemin exclaimed, cutting Jeno off.

“I know what you guys are thinking. No. I didn’t get anyone pregnant. I’ve never even had a girlfriend. It was for my sister.”

“What about that Yeeun girl? Didn’t you go to prom with her? I’ve always thought that she was your girlfriend because you guys were always together even though she was our senior.”

“Okay, first of all, she wasn’t my girlfriend. Second, even if she was, I would never sleep with her, because I was just seventeen back then. And third, yes. I did go to prom with her but just because the girl I wanted to go to prom with already had a date.”

“Who did you want to go to prom with?” You asked.

Jeno sighs, pushing his now empty bowl on the side so he could rest his arms on the counter. “Just this girl that I liked for a really long time.”

“Come on, tell us. Who was it?” Jaemin asked, taking a mouthful of his now cold noodles.

“Just… someone.” Jeno sighed, taking a quick glance at you before getting up from his seat, taking his bowl with him to the sink, washing it before he stormed off into his room.

It was you. He wanted to go to prom with you. Yeeun was just someone who liked him a lot and tried to force herself in his life; he just went to prom with her in hopes of making her stop following him everywhere he goes – which fortunately did happen, after he told her off while keeping as polite as he could. Thankfully though, Yeeun took it well, swallowed up her pride and did her best to understand Jeno’s situation and wished him luck. Yeeun was a good person; she was smart, kind, and she was a very nice person in general. In fact, he did like her, but only as a friend. It was you he liked the most. You were his person and he knew that. He wanted you to be his partner in crime, his other half, the moon to his stars, the peanut butter in his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he wanted to give his whole life to you – it’s just that Jaemin beat him up to it and never got the chance to tell you how he truly felt about you.

Shutting the door behind him, Jeno flicked the light switch off, leaving his room illuminated by the dim LED lights on the sides of his ceiling. One second, it’s red, then blue, and purple, and green – it changed every second, very much like the emotions he felt when you told him you were pregnant. He wasn’t completely sure whether he should be happy that Jaemin decided to raise the kid with you or not. He knew that he wanted to be happy for you, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it a hundred percent; because to him, that meant that he had to say goodbye to you, his first love.

Sighing, Jeno swiveled his gaming chair towards his desk, flicking his desk lamp on as he grabbed a pen and his notepad.

“Love I only have you

When I said

I’ll put my life on the line

To prove you will be my last love was yesterday

It was a clumsy first love, love

I’m always by your side, next to you

I followed you around everywhere I might as well stick to you

I thought everything would work out if we did everything together…”

He hummed as he wrote along his notepad, tapping his pen every now and then whenever he had to think of the right words that would go well with the song he was trying to write. Like all of his other compositions, he wrote this one for you. Well, it’s not like he could tell you how he felt about you for the past ten years; you already had Jaemin and he knew very well that you loved your boyfriend a lot, so he writes songs – about you and how he felt about you.

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WINTER

“Y/L/N. Is There a Y/N Y/L/N in here?” The nurse from the nurse’s station called out.

“Yep. That’s me!”

“Dr. Qian will see you now, please head to the ultrasound room.” The nurse said, placing her clipboard back down on her desk.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself as you got up from your seat in the waiting room, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you made your way towards the ultrasound room.

“Hey, welcome back! How have you been feeling lately?” Kun, your gynecologist, greeted as soon as you went in.

“Hey, I’ve been good. Tummy’s starting to show up a bit, now that I’m in my twenty-first week.”

“Shall we get started?” He asked, leading you to the examination bed.

“Yeah, but can we wait for my companion? He went to the washroom.”

“Sure. But please, make yourself comfortable and let’s get you prepped up for the examination and then we’ll start when he gets back.” He said, smiling politely as he applied the warm gel across your stomach.

“Hey.” Jeno greeted as he silently went in the room, taking a seat at the seat beside you.

“Shall we start now?” Kun asked once again, earning a nod from you.

There it was, the tiny human being living inside you on the screen with its tiny hands and feet. It kind of looked like it was waving its hands “hello”, making you feel a sudden wave of emotions simultaneously, making you tear up a bit.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, holding your hand, smiling a small smile as he looked at you with concern plastered on his face.

“Yeah, just a bit emotional.” You said, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“Don’t cry ‘cause if you keep that up, I’ll end up crying too.” Jeno joked, making you chuckle a bit. “Look at it, it’s so cute and terrifying at the same time. I heard it has fingernails too.” He said, scooting his chair closer to you.

“They do. I mean, they do have fingernails.” Kun chimed in.

“Damn, I thought that was fake news.” Jeno said. “Did you hear that baby? You have fingernails! You better not scratch your way out your mom’s belly. That’d be bloody as heck.” Jeno said, moving closer to your belly, pretending to talk to the baby but much to your surprise the baby started kicking upon hearing Jeno’s remark, making the both of you laugh.

“The baby kicked! I guess the kid likes to joke around with its dad.” Kun said.

“Oh, I–I’m not the dad.” Jeno said, awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck as he leaned back on his chair.

“Oh.” Kun said with wide eyes as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. My mistake. Anyway, would you like to know the baby’s gender?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, please.” You said, nodding.

“Well, your baby is a boy. He’s completely healthy; heart rate’s normal and all, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He said, wiping off the gel from your abdomen. “I’ll see you again in four months.” Kun said with a smile as he handed you a clear photo of your ultrasound.

“Thanks Dr. Qian, I’ll see you soon.” You said as Jeno helped you get up from the examination bed.

The walk on the way to the bus stop was silent; it wasn’t awkward or anything, it was rather comfortable and it was silent just because you didn’t really have anything to say and neither did Jeno. The two of you just simply walked together with both of your hands stuffed in your own coat pockets, gripping at the now cold disposable hand warmers that Jeno had gotten the both of you earlier before you went to the doctor.

You let out a soft sigh, bringing your hands up to your mouth, breathing into them in attempt to warm them up a little bit, but to no avail, it didn’t really do anything.

“You good?” Jeno asked for what seemed like the nth time, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, letting out a sigh, shivering when the cold wind hit your skin.

“Give me your hands. You can have my hand warmers, they’re still a bit warm.” He said, giving you his hand warmers. “Do you feel better now?” He asked.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to give me your hand warmers though.”

“You need it more than I do, so I want you to have it. Wear this too, your scarf’s too thin, your neck’s gonna get cold." He said, smiling a bit as he wrapped his thick scarf around your neck. “You have to take good care of yourself. You know, you have to keep yourself healthy, for the baby and all.”

“Thanks, Jeno.”

“It’s all good. You don’t have to thank me.”

“Still, I want to thank you. For always being there.” You said, smiling over at Jeno.

He didn’t really say anything, instead, he slung his arm around your shoulders as he smiled, pulling you closer to him and taking your bag to carry it himself. Afterall, looking after you and being there for you was the least that he could do as your best friend. As usual, just like what the two of you used to do when you were in high school, the both of you sat at the back of the bus, you on the seat by the window, and Jeno on his spot by the aisle. As for Jaemin, he would either stand and use the hand rails, or sit on the seat next to yours; and just like now, it was always Jeno by your side.

You were greeted by the warmth of your apartment when you opened the door; the lights were off, it was quiet – the only thing that could be heard was the jingling of your house keys and your faint breathing.

“Do you want me to start the fire?” Jeno asked, tossing his keys to the kitchen counter.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to if you don’t feel like it. It’s a lot of work anyway.” You shrugged, plopping yourself on the couch.

“Nah, I’ll get the fire started in a bit. Just give me a minute to get out of these clothes. I’ll change into something more comfortable. You should get changed too, though it’s much better if you took a warm bath to remove the gel from earlier. I’ll get the hot water running.”

“Thanks, Jeno.”

“It’s no big deal.” He said, smiling a small smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

It wasn’t that long before Jeno came back to the living room in a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favourite blue hoodie with his guitar strapped around his torso.

“Hot water’s ready, you should take a bath. I’ll get the fire started.” He said, sitting next to the fireplace, setting the firewood and lighting it on fire.

You nodded, flashing Jeno a small smile, hugging him from behind.

It’s just a hug; it wasn’t much but it made his heart jump – the butterflies in his stomach, went into some type of frenzy as if they’ve been released for the first time after being locked up in a lepidopterarium for a very long time. He felt the same feelings he felt when you were both seventeen, when you kissed him on the swings of the local playground after you ran away from Mark’s 18th birthday party. He remembers it like it was yesterday; Afterall, it was his first kiss – you were his first kiss, and he was yours too, you were just too drunk to remember that because you’ve had a few drinks that night.

“I–I think you should take a bath now.” Jeno said, clearing his throat as he slowly removed your arms around his waist.

With that, Jeno sighed as he placed the matchbox on top of the fireplace, watching you walk on the way to the bathroom. Plopping himself on the couch, Jeno cleared his throat as he picked up his guitar on the floor, placing it on his lap, making it a table for his notepad as he wrote lyrics for his song that he never got to finish.

“Ooh I know everything everyone else knows…now that I am not young… I told you to trust me, Love doesn’t end with experiences. I don’t think I’ll get over it...” He hummed, biting his pen before scribbling the lyrics onto his notepad.

“I think that sounds… okay?” He muttered to himself, scratching his head as he adjusted his glasses. “I guess I’ll have to try playing it. That’s the only way I can find out.” He said, sighing as he placed his notepad aside, clearing his throat as he started stumming his guitar.

“Fuck this.” He muttered to himself, annoyed. “Why is it that I can’t find the motivation to finish this fucking song?” He said, grunting as he covered his face with his notepad.

“Maybe it’s because you lack inspiration? Maybe you need to go somewhere to find inspiration?” You said, lifting his notepad off of his face.

“What? – No!” Jeno exclaimed, eyes shooting open as soon as he heard your voice, snatching his notepad from your hands.

“Hey!”

“No. You can’t read the lyrics.” He said, hugging his notepad tightly.

“Why? You always let me read it.”

“Not today. It’s not yet done.” He said. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t being completely honest as to why he didn’t want you to read it either – he was afraid that it was too obvious that the song was about you.

“Okay, chill. I won’t read it if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“Instead, can you play something? I heard it’s good to make the baby listen to music.”

“Sure.” He said, strumming his guitar, playing a familiar tune.

You knew what he was playing. It was all too familiar; you just couldn’t put your finger on it. You knew what it was but you weren’t sure where you heard it. Not until he started singing the lyrics.

“Come with me, my love

To the sea. The sea of love.

I want to tell you, how much I love you…”

It was the song that his mom always sang to the three of you when you were kids; the song that always put you to sleep, the song that comforted you whenever you were sad. It was the song that Jeno always played for you on his guitar when you were in high school. It’s been a while since he sang this song.

“How could I forget that?” You thought to yourself, shaking your head lightly before humming along to Jeno’s singing.

For the second time, Jeno repeated the same lyrics he sang earlier, only this time, he looked at you dearly as he sang the words “I love you”. You didn’t think too much about it, he always did that every time he sang this song for you and you always thought that it was nothing. Afterall, you’re already in a relationship with Jaemin. Though it didn’t mean anything to you, for Jeno, it meant a lot because that’s the only way he could tell you how much he loved you without you noticing it.

It’s selfish of him to love you while you’re in a relationship with his best friend. He knew that; but he also knew that he loved you first, it just so happened that Jaemin asked you out first. It just so happened that his timing was off and all he can do now is to look after you from afar, love you in secret, take good care of you as his best friend, and be there for you in your happiest moments even though it hurt him deeply. He knows it’s selfish to hang around you, but he just finds it hard to let you go even though he wants to wish you the best. He’s happy to see you happy but it hurts him to see you happy with another person when you were happier with him before you and Jaemin got together.

“Jeno! He kicked! The baby kicked.” You said excitedly, pulling Jeno’s hand and placing it on top of your baby bump. “Feel it.”

“I don’t feel anything–” Jeno shrugged, getting cut off mid-sentence by the baby kicking. “Oh, shit!” Jeno said excitedly, chuckling a little bit.

“I guess he likes the song too.”

“Maybe he does?” He shrugged. “You like it, don’t you?” He asked, moving closer to your belly as he talked to the baby, earning another kick.

“Woah, I guess he really does like it. He’s quite a kicker though.” You said, laughing a bit.

“Well, I’m glad to know that I have a fan.”

“Hey! I was your first fan–” You said, punching Jeno’s arm playfully, getting cut off by the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Jaemin!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat, running towards Jaemin, leaving Jeno alone in the couch.

“How was your appointment?” He asked, kicking his shoes to the side of the doorway as he gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“It was fine, Jeno helped me carry my bag so it wasn’t hard going there and getting home.” You shrugged, resting your hands on your waist. “Oh! And I have something for you.” You exclaimed, running to the living room, fishing through your bag for the picture of your ultrasound.

“Here.” You said, handing Jaemin the photo.

“Wow.” He smiled, tracing the outline of his son’s tiny hand with his index finger. “Did your doctor tell you the gender?”

“Yeah. It’s a boy. We’re having a boy, Jaemin.” You said, excitement evident in your tone.

“That’s amazing!” Jaemin said excitedly, wrapping you in a tight hug as he smiled excitedly.

Jeno couldn’t do anything but sigh as he sat alone in the couch, watching you share your news to your boyfriend. He was hurt because of the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he could’ve been the one to celebrate this news with you if only he didn’t hold himself back from telling you how he felt back then – but then again, what’s done is done. He can’t bring back the past, the only thing he can do now is to be happy for you, so he gathered his things and went to his room. Putting his guitar aside next to his full body mirror, Jeno walked towards his computer, plugging in the speakers that he got from his sister on his birthday last year, playing his playlist before plopping himself on his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling before eventually falling asleep.

It was already two in the afternoon when he woke up the next day; it’s not like it mattered though, besides, it was a Sunday and he didn’t have any classes.

“Jeno?” Jaemin called out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?” He replied, groggily rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he turned off his music that had been playing since the night before.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” Jeno said, ridding of his hoodie as he changed into his oversized batch shirt. “Come in.” He said, opening the door for Jaemin.

“Can I talk to you?” Jaemin asked.

“Sure. About what?”

“About this.” Jaemin said, fishing a small velvet box from the pocket of his sweatpants. “What do you think? Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked, revealing a silver ring with tiny diamonds surrounding it upon opening the box.

“W–Wow.” Jeno gasped, speechless. “I guess this is the end.” He thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Yeah… I think she’ll love it.” He said, flashing Jaemin a reassuring smile.

“Glad that you think so.” Jaemin said, letting out a relieved sigh as he closed the box and slid it back into his pocket. “I have a favor though.”

“What is it?”

“Can you drive Y/N to the local amusement park at four o’clock?” Jaemin asked, looking at Jeno as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“Yeah, for sure. Four o’ clock. Yeah, got it.”

“Thanks, Jeno. Take her to the middle of the amusement park, okay? Right by the gazebo.”

“Got it.” Jeno smiled, letting out a sigh as soon as Jaemin left his room.

“Fuck.” He sighed to himself as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his temples as he looked at the floor beneath his feet.

As much as it hurt him, it’s not like he can do anything about it so even though he hated the idea of it, the only thing he can do is to do what was right to make you happy – that being, driving you to the amusement park two hours from now and watch you get engaged to the father of your child. For this he knew that he had to get ready, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Physically – he needed to take a shower and change into new clothes, wear a coat, look nice for one of the happiest moments of your life; mentally - he needed to accept that it’s the end for his unrequited love for you; and emotionally – he needed to stop whatever it is that he feels about you and just be happy for you. With that in his plate, he dragged himself to the bathroom to take a shower, slid on a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and the coat that you got him for Christmas last year.

“Hey, Jaemin told me to bring this to him in the hospital, can you drop me off?” You said, swinging Jeno’s door open.

“I was just about to tell you to get dressed because Jaemin asked me to drop you off.”

“Oh. Let’s go, then.” You said, leading the way out of your front door with Jeno following you from behind.

The drive on the way to the amusement park was silent, it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable – just like how it always was. The only thing that could be heard was the faint sound of the wipers on the windshield, the faint sound of your breathing, and the sound of the hot air coming out of the heater.

“This isn’t the way to the hospital.” You said, watching the buildings pass by.

“Just trust me on this one.” Jeno said, making a u-turn towards the entrance of the local amusement park.

“Jeno, what are we doing here?” You asked as Jeno stopped to park the car in an empty parking slot.

“Just trust me.” He said, hopping out of the car and holding the door open for you. “Follow me.” He said, holding your hand as he leads the way to the center of the park.

“Jeno, stop. I have to bring Jaemin’s medical kit to the hospital–” You said, getting cut off mid-sentence my Jaemin calling out your name.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

“I asked Jeno to drive you here, don’t worry.”

“I thought you were at the hospital. What are you doing here?”

“I just thought that…” He said, pausing for a moment as he got on one knee, fishing the same velvet box he showed Jeno earlier in the pocket of his slacks.

“Jaemin…” You gasped covering your face, knowing fully well what he’s doing.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you know that I love you, right?” He asked as you got teary-eyed, making him chuckle. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You said, nodding excitedly, earning loud cheers from the people that gathered around to witness Jaemin’s grand proposal.

This was it. The end. This is the end for Jeno’s feelings for you and he knew it.

“I hope you’re happy. I’ll love you, forever and always, remember that. Goodbye, my first.” Jeno said silently to himself as he walked silently back to his car.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,962 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Denise asks Y/N to find some much needed medical supplies. Y/N and Daryl head out on a supply run.

Your name: submit What is this?

You and Daryl both healed up from your close call outside the walls and soon you were making scavenge runs and hunting together again. Things in Alexandria went on routinely for some time until one evening when there was a knock on your door and Denise was standing on the front mat.

“Denise, hey,” you said. “Come in.”

She was wringing her hands a little anxiously. “Hi.”

You could easily read the worry on her face. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

She sighed and adjusted her glasses, a nervous habit. “I’m fine but I have a huge favor to ask you.”

“What do you need?” you interrupted. Your expression was intense.

Denise gave you a hesitant look and pulled a list out of her back pocket. “I know this is asking a lot but—I don’t think you’re going to be able to find all this stuff outside of a hospital.”

You gulped but looked it over, nodding. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Hey. I’ll get it. It’s okay,” you reassured her. “I’ll leave early tomorrow.”

“You’re not going alone?” she asked urgently.

You shook your head, folding the list up again. “No. I’ll ask Daryl.”

Denise’s expression morphed from concern to a knowing smile, but she caught herself and quickly tried to hide it. “Oh. Daryl. Good,” she said. You glanced up at her, your lips pressed together in a thin line. She laughed and held her hands up, palms out. “I didn’t say anything!” You rolled your eyes.

“Would you just stop with that? We—we’re just good friends.”

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that,” she said in an undertone, turning back to the front door, resting her hand on the handle. She glanced over her shoulder at you again and her expression was once again serious. “Thank you,” you said.

“Of course. We’ll get what you need. Don’t worry.”

As soon as Denise left you made your way across the street and knocked on the front door of Daryl’s house, shuffling your feet a little nervously. Rick answered it with a curious expression.

“Hi, Rick. Is Daryl around?”

“I think he’s up at Aaron and Eric’s. He said something earlier about changing the oil in his bike.”

“Okay, thanks.” You turned to leave but Rick called you back. You watched with a little apprehension as he closed the door behind himself and stepped out onto the porch toward you.

His thumbs were looped into his belt, one foot sticking out toward you.

Your pulse started to race a little with nerves.

“Listen, I know we haven’t spent much time around each other but I wanted you to know that you’re real important to Daryl—anybody can see that. You two have already been through some things together. And that makes you family. So, if there is anything you ever need, you can rely on any of us.”

You stared back at him in some disbelief trying to come up with something to say, but you mostly failed. You gulped at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Thanks.”

Rick nodded. “Sure. Alright. We’ll see ya.” You nodded and turned away from the sheriff, puzzling over his willingness to invite you into the fold so readily.

You jogged up the street, your eyes fixed on the distant glow of orange light spilling out of Aaron and Eric’s garage. You found Daryl standing at one set of shelves along the wall, replacing some tools. He hands were gray with dirt and oil and his toned arms were glistening with sweat.

“Hey,” you said. Daryl turned and glanced at you, one corner of his mouth twitching upward reflexively at the sound of your voice.

“S’goin’ on?” he asked, easily reading the seriousness on your face.

You pulled the small folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it out. “We’ve got a job. Denise just came to see me.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he pulled the red rag out of his back pocket to wipe off his hands before taking the paper from you and unfolding it. His blue eyes scanned the list and he nodded. “Alright.”

“We’re gonna have to go to a hospital to get a lot of this stuff,” you said apprehensively. The archer nodded and handed the list back to you.

“So, we go to a hospital,” he drawled. “Ya know of any where ya think we could still find supplies?”

You licked your lips nervously. “Yeah. But it’s not—the med centers were ground zero before anybody knew any better. There’s a reason this one still has supplies and hasn’t been picked clean. It’s full of walkers.”

Daryl paused thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed a bit in concentration. “We’ll figure it out. If anyone can do it, it’s you and me, right?” He said, giving you a half-smile, that boyish quirk of his lips.

There were still worry lines on your forehead.

“Hey. We’ve got this,” Daryl said. “Ya think we should take more people? Glenn and Rick, maybe?”

You sighed heavily and thoughtfully ran a thumb over your lower lip, something you did often when you were thinking which Daryl found extremely distracting. “Honestly, the fewer of us the better probably. Keep it as quiet as possible. In and out.”

Daryl nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Alright. In and out,” he agreed. “We can take my bike. Leave at sun up.”

You nodded. “Okay. I’ll get some gear together,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Meet ya outside in the morning,” he said. “Hey. Try and get some damn sleep,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

The next morning the two of you met in the middle of the road that separated your houses just as the sun was starting to break over the horizon, each with a pack slung over your shoulders. Daryl had his crossbow and you had your recurve bow. “Armory first, then we’ll grab my bike,” Daryl drawled, leading the way to the armory with long strides. You had a sick feeling in your stomach, nervous about the day’s task. Daryl seemed to be able to sense your mood and he glanced back at you. “We’re gonna be fine. And we’re gonna get everything on that list and more,” he said strongly.

You felt the knot in your stomach loosen a little and nodded. “Yeah,” you said.

After grabbing your weapons of choice from the armory, you swung a leg over Daryl’s bike and settled in behind him, your nerves surging again as you wrapped your arms around him to hold on, feeling the strong muscles of his back and stomach. You gulped. Daryl felt like he was about to lose his mind with your arms around him.

The bike roared to life and you were off.

The first part of the trip was uneventful. You directed Daryl to the hospital you had in mind and the bike came in handy as you had to wind through the ruins of gridlocked traffic on what had once been a busy highway. You had parked the bike and hidden it and walked the rest of the way to the medical center on foot, sneaking quietly and hoping you wouldn’t run into any walkers or, maybe worse, people.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing ahead to a tall building down the block. He nodded and continued to lead the way, snaking between cars and debris. Soon you approached the sliding doors of what had been the emergency room entrance. Daryl shouldered his bow and glanced back at you.

“Cover me while I pry these open,” he muttered. You nodded and readied your bow, sweeping your eyes inside beyond the doors for any movement and then back over the cityscape behind you.

Daryl got the doors open and nudged his head toward the interior, putting his crossbow back up to his eye as he gazed over the atrium in front of you. When he was sure it was clear he lowered his bow and moved behind you to shut the doors again. “Don’t want anything followin’ us in here,” he said.

Your eyes were anxiously darting over the space in front of you. “Or anyone,” you murmured.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, rejoining you. “Ya have any idea where to look for this stuff?”

“Um.” You walked over to a directory on the far wall. “Well, we need to find a drug cabinet or pharmacy for the antibiotics and other medications and a supply closet for everything else.” You glanced up the hallway to your left. “I guess we just pick a direction and start sweeping?”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” he whispered back. “C’mon.”

You followed behind him and moved up the hallway. You managed to locate a medication locker and shortly after a drug dispensary or pharmacy. You loaded your packs with as much medication as you could, leaving room for the other supplies. Daryl also found a cloth tote bag and filled it up with anything he thought would be useful. So far you hadn’t met with any walkers. It seemed far too quiet and it was causing your apprehension to grow.

Daryl stepped back into the hallway and cleared both directions. “Now we just need to find a supply closet,” he said. He nudged his head toward the other end of the hallway and you followed behind him silently.

“Doesn’t this feel a little too easy to you?” you said, finally speaking your fears.

Daryl looked back at you and nodded. “Yeah. Where are all the damn walkers?”

You continued down the hallway until you found a closed door with a placard beside it that said ‘Supplies.’ “Hey,” you whispered, drawing Daryl’s attention. You tried the handle and swore under your breath. “Locked.” You swung your pack down and dug in the front pocket. “I can pick it. Just cover me.”

Daryl stood guard while you slid the two tools into the key hole, prodding the pins methodically until you heard the characteristic click of completion. You shot a satisfied smile over at Daryl and pushed the door in, shining your flashlight onto the shelves lining the walls. “Fuck.”

They were barren.

Daryl shook his head and sighed. “Guess we try up a level?”

You grabbed the one lone pack of sterile IV tubing left and shoved it into your bag. “I guess so.”

“C’mon. Stairs this way.” You ghosted behind Daryl’s broad-shouldered frame until he paused in front of the stairway door and peeked through the window. It looked empty. He opened it as silently as possible, straining his hearing.

You stepped in after him, climbing the stairs, sweeping behind you with your light every once and a while. When you reached the next floor, Daryl froze and looked back at you with a furrowed brow. You gave him a questioning glance. “Door’s barricaded,” he muttered.

You sighed. “Should we just try the next level up?”

He shrugged and started to climb again, but when you arrived on that floor you saw that it too was barricaded from the other side. “Shit. What do you want to do?” you asked him. He chewed his bottom lip nervously for a moment, shining his flashlight through the small window and looking at what was blocking the door.

“Fuck it,” he said, slinging his bow over his shoulder. “Who knows how many of these damn doors are blocked. Some assholes probably thought they could outlast this thing.”

“Or they thought someone was coming for them,” you said. “The army.”

Daryl turned the handle and heaved his shoulder into the door. The heavy metal cabinet on the other side began to slide. He tried to move it as steadily and quietly as he could, but it made a harsh scraping noise in the silence. You both froze and listened, but you heard nothing.

Daryl held the door and you squeezed through the opening, turning around to hold it for him as he pushed through. When you turned around again you felt your stomach drop. “Oh, God.”

Blood. And corpses. There were old bloodstains and the bodies looked more like mummies than anything but it didn’t bode well. You exchanged a look with Daryl.

“In and out,” he whispered, nodding. You let out a deep breath, your lungs feeling suddenly tight, and the two of you started creeping down the hallway side by side, sweeping your eyes over each hospital room standing open. “There,” you said, spotting another placard designating another closed door as a supply room. This time the handle was loose as you tried it. You pushed inside and were relieved to see that it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Apparently, any other scavengers hadn’t been brave enough to venture past the barricades. You and Daryl dropped your packs and opened them up, shoving supplies inside and filling them so much you almost couldn’t fasten yours closed.

“Alright,” Daryl rumbled quietly. “Let’s get outta here before our luck runs out.”

You nodded heaving your bag onto your shoulders again with some effort. You were about follow Daryl back to the stairwell when you spotted another window that looked like a dispensary. “Hey. Wait a second. Maybe there are more painkillers in here.” You wandered over and tried to push the metal slatted grate over the window up. It didn’t budge. You went to the door. The handle was loose and you shot Daryl a smile.

But that was when your luck seemingly ran out. You pushed the door open and stepped inside but some water damage from a dripping pipe in the ceiling had rotted out the floor and subfloor. You heard it starting to collapse beneath you and had just enough time to throw your bow behind you and spin around. Daryl’s arms were already out and he grabbed onto you as the floor gave way beneath your feet. You held onto him as tightly as you could and in a moment he hauled you up out of the sudden empty space, your heart pounding out of your chest. The two of you collapsed in a heap on the floor.

But you didn’t have any time to rest or be thankful that you hadn’t plummeted downward. The debris and a heavy shelving unit had fallen with a tremendous crash that reverberated through the building. You scrambled for your bow and adjusted your pack again as Daryl was trying to see if you were alright, but there was a sudden growling and mawing from the other end of the hallway and you both swore.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, looking at a stream of walkers coming up the hallway from out of the stairway at the other end of the hall. “I guess that other stairwell wasn’t barricaded.

“Yeah, no shit,” he growled. “C’mon. We gotta get outta here.”

You both made a run in the direction you had come up but as you approached you could see that there were walkers filling that stairwell now too. “Shit! Daryl!”

You spun around looking helplessly at the herd approaching from up the hall. “We’re fucking trapped!” you said desperately, raising your bow and landing an arrow right in the skull of a walker in the lead. It crumpled and slowed the others behind it for a moment.

Daryl heaved the metal cabinet against the stairway door again to close the opening you had created. The dead were pressing against the door. “We ain’t dyin’ here!” he yelled. “C’mon!” he firmly grabbed your arm and pulled you partway up the hall, toward the incoming herd. He threw his shoulder into the nearest closed door and pushed you inside, firing a bolt at a walker who was reaching for him. He rushed in after you and slammed the door closed.

You had already tossed your stuff down and upended a desk and pushed it against the door. Daryl slid a metal cabinet against it too to fortify the barricade.

“Fuck,” you said, bending over with your hands on your knees, your heart absolutely pounding, your chest heaving.

Daryl was pacing around the room and made his way to the windows. “We gotta go. That shit isn’t gonna keep em out forever. Maybe there’s a fire escape we can use.” He looked out the window but saw nothing you could climb down. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face and jaw.

The dead were pounding against the door and the growling was reaching deafening heights. Daryl continued to pace like a caged animal, back and forth, looking around desperately. “There’s a door here,” he said, rushing over to it in the middle of the far wall. You retrieved your gear and raced over but watched as Daryl jumped back. “Fuck. Goddamn walkers out there too.” His expression was grim as he resumed his pacing.

You looked around as you heard the desk you had upended shaking with the blows of hungry dead ones against the door. Your eyes raced around the room. You were in some kind of laboratory.

Suddenly, Daryl froze like he had been turned to stone and you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” you urged. He tossed his pack down and drew his knife from its sheath at his hip. “What the hell are you doing?” you asked.

“Ya ain’t dyin’ in here. I’m gonna go out, clear a path, draw ‘em off so you can get out.”

“Like hell you are!”

“It’s the only way,” he growled back. “I ain’t lettin’ ya die in here!”

“And I’m not fucking letting you do this!” you said, grabbing onto his arm firmly. “Daryl, that’s suicide.”

“One of us has to get out with the meds and supplies,” he argued. “People back home need ‘em.”

“You’ve got people back there. If anyone is going to draw them off it should be me. It’s just—it’s just me,” you argued. You saw a fierce flash of fire in his blue eyes.

“Nah. Not happenin’,” he growled. He shook you off his arm. “This is how it’s gotta be.”

“You’re not doing this, Daryl. I’m not letting you. There’s gotta be another way out. There’s gotta be—” you rushed over toward the windows, desperately searching for something he had missed, some magic ladder that had suddenly appeared, anything. “There ain’t no other way out, Y/N! And eventually they are gonna come through!” That’s when your eyes fell on the lab supplies nearby. You looked up with a struck expression on your face. Daryl’s expression morphed from determined stubbornness to confusion. He watched as you threw down your pack and bow and started pulling stuff off the shelves. You threw down some glassware which shattered and started scooping up the shards, not even caring that they were cutting your hands up.

“The hell are ya doin’?” Daryl asked, rushing over and looking down at you like you had lost your mind.

“I’m making a way out,” you said. Daryl watched you mixing chemicals and pouring them into some containers you had found, dropping the broken glass in before carefully measuring out another liquid. You glanced up at him. “I’m—I’m making some nail bombs,” you said matter-of-factly. You got up off your knees on the floor and rushed across the room to a custodial cart you had seen, grabbing a box of screws off it and skidding back over to your area on the floor. “Well, screw bombs actually, I guess.”

“Ya—ya know how to—”

The desk against the door rocked violently and you both looked at it. You turned around and pointed to a table pushed against one wall. “Tip that over. We’re gonna need to hide behind it.”

Daryl heaved the table onto its side. “Ya sure ya know what you’re doin’?” He watched you methodically and carefully putting the finishing touches on the devices in front of you, sweat running down your neck and beading up on your hair line, your chest heaving. You wiped your arm across it.

Your eyes were fixed on them as you stood up with one in your hands, being extremely careful not to tip it. “I know what I’m doing,” you said, not taking your eyes off it. You walked over toward the barricaded door and set it carefully down on the floor. You did the same with another one a bit farther into the room. You glanced back at the archer, your eyes a bit frantic. “When they knock those over—” Daryl understood your meaning. “Help me move this shit,” you said, looking at the furniture blocking the door. You and Daryl heaved it out of the way. You could tell that the door wouldn’t hold much longer.

You rushed back over to the table Daryl had turned over and pulled your pack and bow behind it, along with the two remaining devices you had made. Daryl joined you behind the table. “What about those?” Daryl asked eyeing the bombs uneasily.

“These ones are for throwing,” you said, your eyes fixed on the door across the room. “Any second now,” you thought aloud.

“Ya got a Plan B in case these don’t work?” Daryl asked.

“This is Plan A through Z,” you said. “But they’ll work.”

A moment later there was a splintering of wood as the door gave way to the force of bodies on the other side and a flood of walkers started to enter the room. You hunkered down and plugged your ears. There was a concussive blast and you felt Daryl’s body against yours, sheltering over you as the windows in the room shattered and debris flew, embedding into the table you were using as a shield.

You straightened up, your ears ringing, coughing a little in the dusty and smoky haze in the air. You peeked over the table, Daryl doing the same. Body parts and a red splattering of blood was covering the room. There was a substantial hole where the doorway had been. “Sick,” you said aloud, wincing as some gore that was on the ceiling dripped down onto your shoulder. But you climbed to your feet and grabbed your gear. “Come on. Effective but loud. It’s gonna draw more. We gotta go now.” You thrust one of the remaining devices into Daryl’s hands with an urgent look. “Don’t shake it. Don’t drop it,” you said.

He nodded and followed your lead. As you moved into the hallway you headed for the opposite end, to the stairwell that had the door propped wide open. You could still hear walkers pounding on the other locked door of the room you had just been in, still intent from the sound of the blast.

You both snuck past them and started down the stairs, praying that the rest of the way would be clear. You made it to the ground floor and rushed out into the atrium. Daryl threw some chairs and boxes out of the way. You made a rush toward the sliding doors you had come in through and Daryl immediately started prying them open, handing you the bomb you had given him.

“Oh, fuck. I can hear them. Hurry, Daryl!” you urged. You ran back toward the sound of the walkers.

“The hell are ya doin’?” Daryl shouted over his shoulder, still heaving the doors open.

“Covering our ass!” you yelled. You peeked around the corner into the long hallway and saw a stream of walkers started to fill it. You heaved a breath and tossed one of the bombs, pressing yourself up against the wall and covering your ears against the blast.

Debris flew down the hallway and smoke drifted out. You peeked around the hall again and could see the carnage of the walkers blown all over the walls, floor, and ceiling. More walkers were still coming.

“Y/N! I got it! Let’s go!” Daryl roared. You eyed the last bomb and threw it as far down the hallway as you could, feeling the concussive force from the blast run through you as you ran back to Daryl and slipped out through the front doors. He slammed them shut behind you.

“We gotta get the hell away from here before every goddamn walker in the city shows up,” he said, rushing to put distance between you and the hospital.

“Not exactly subtle, but we’re out,” you gasped as you ran behind him.

You didn’t slow until you made it back to where you had stored the bike, doubling over with a stitch in your side, throwing your gear down and collapsing with your back against the wall. “Oh, shit. Fuck me,” you murmured, clutching at the cramp in your side, pressing your head back against the concrete and shutting your eyes.

Daryl’s chest was heaving from the run but he stared down at you with intense blue eyes. He dropped his pack down beside his bike and knelt down next to you. You felt him there and opened your eyes as he grabbed your wrist gently. “You’re bleedin’,” he said, looking at the cuts and punctures from the broken glass you had handled and from pushing yourself up on the debris of the blasts.

“It’s nothing,” you breathed as he examined each of your palms. He pulled his pack over and dug out some of the gauze you had just scavenged. “Daryl, it’s fine.”

He ignored you and only continued his care in silence, wrapping the gauze around both your palms and tucking the end under to secure it. When he finished, his eyes flitted up to meet yours and there was some unreadable expression in them. “That was too damn close,” he said. He gently grasped your elbow and helped you to your feet.

“Tell me about it,” you murmured in agreement. You looked down at your pack stuffed full of supplies. “But we did it. And we got everything Denise needs.”

Daryl still seemed ill at ease. “Ya wanna tell me how the hell you know how to make a fuckin’ nail bomb?”

You laughed wryly. “You wanna tell me how you ever thought I’d let you go on a goddamn suicide mission?” you said in disbelief. “Jesus, Daryl! Don’t you ever try to pull something like that again, okay?”

He avoided your eyes. “If I have to, I will.”

You felt a twist in your stomach at his words, but the next moment he was simply strapping his pack down on the back of his bike and swinging his leg over, looking back at you expectantly. “C’mon. Let’s get the fuck outta here before it gets dark.”

You pulled back into Alexandria and Daryl stopped his bike in front of the infirmary. Denise came rushing out. “Oh, thank God you’re both okay,” she said in a gasp. “I’ve been going crazy all day.”

Daryl climbed off and helped you do the same. Your heart jumped as he gently closed his hand around yours, being careful to avoid your cut-up palm. “Y/N needs her hands looked at,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “No, I don’t. They’re fine, Denise.”

She stared at you in concern and adjusted her glasses. “I’ll look them over. How did it go?”

Her question made you and Daryl exchange a glance for a moment. “Oh, God! I asked too much of you,” she said anxiously.

“Hey, we’re both fine. And we got everything on the list,” you said, shouldering your pack more securely. “We just, uhh, had a close call is all.”

Daryl threw one of his pack straps over his shoulder. “Where ya want these, doc?”

Denise wrung her hands but motioned for you both to follow her inside. After dumping out the copious bottles of medication and packs full of supplies on a table, Denise forced you to sit down so she could look at your palms underneath a bright light.

“They aren’t bad at all,” you protested. Daryl was standing nearby with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall, making sure you couldn’t leave until you’d been checked over.

“How did this happen?” she asked, turning your hand to catch the wounds in the light.

“She grabbed a bunch of broken glass,” Daryl rumbled from his place against the wall.

Denise gave you a look like you were nuts. “…why?”

You cleared your throat and averted your eyes. “Because I needed it for something.”

She grabbed a tweezers and plucked a shard of glass from one of the wounds dropping it into a nearby metal tray. “For what?”

“Uhh…”

Daryl let out an amused snort from his place against the wall and you were relieved to see that his intensely serious and grim expression had broken. You caught his blue eyes and grinned a little sheepishly. Denise looked over at him too. “What? What’s so funny?”

You stared back down at your palm, feeling those annoying butterflies flitting to life in your stomach again at the boyish half-smile on Daryl’s face. “Nothing. Nothing is funny. Don’t worry about it.”

When Daryl was satisfied that you had been thoroughly attended to, he nudged his nose up at you and you thanked Denise one more time before following him out of the clinic.

“Ya really ain’t gonna tell me how the hell ya know how to make bombs?”

You shrugged. “I was—I was out there alone for a long time,” you said. “I, uhh, familiarized myself with things I thought would be useful.”

One of his eyebrows was quirked up at you but he nodded. “Alright… Smart.” He considered you for a moment. “Hey, why don’t ya come on over and eat somethin’? We usually eat around now. I’m sure somebody has fixed somethin’.”

You gave him a thoughtful look.

Daryl could sense your hesitancy. “Ya even got any food in your house?”

“Yes,” you said, acting affronted.

“What? What have ya got?”

“I’ve got stuff in the freezer!” you said.

“Uh huh. Stuff that ya ain’t gonna thaw out and cook tonight. C’mon. You’re eatin’ with us,” he said. He turned and started in the direction of your houses and you sighed, still feeling a bit apprehensive about the thought of so many people, but you followed behind. Daryl glanced back and felt a sense of relief when he realized you had conceded.

Rick heard the front door open and walked over to see who had just come in. Daryl and, to his surprise, you. “You’re back. And you’re alright?” Rick asked.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed.

Rick nodded. “Well, you’ll have to tell us all about it.” “Supper?” Daryl asked.

“We were just about to sit down,” Rick replied, looking over Daryl’s shoulder at you as you hovered a little anxiously just behind him. “Good to see you. I hope you’re joinin’ us?” he asked, his eyes moving back to Daryl’s.

“Ya, she is.”

You felt your cheeks redden a bit as Rick glanced back at you. “Well, come on in and grab a spot,” Rick said, giving you a friendly smile. He patted Daryl on the back as he passed him and you trailed behind.

“I’m just gonna go drop my gear downstairs, alright?” Daryl said to you softly. You nodded, but he noted that you looked a little nervous. He gave you a small smile. “They don’t bite. I promise.”

You shot him a look which elicited another half-smile from him. “I’ll be right back.” His broad shoulders disappeared through the doorway to his space downstairs.

You were standing a little awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen, watching the busy scene in front of you as Glenn and Maggie set the table and Carol and Rosita moved food from the kitchen island to the big table. The air was buzzing with happy conversation, warm laughter, and you felt like you were an outsider looking in. Rick sensed your discomfort and came over with Judith in his arms.

“We can be a little much to take at first,” he said kindly. You met his eyes and gave him a hesitant smile. “Judith, will you say hello to our guest? Say hi! Say hi!” he prompted, kissing her cheek and drawing laughter from her. The little girl lifted a hand and waved at you. Rick watched your face light up with the widest smile he’d ever seen you give.

“Hi, Judith,” you said sweetly. “I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, reaching out and gently grasping her little hand to give it a shake.

Rick grinned as Judith laughed with her hand in yours. Your eyes were bright and twinkling as you looked at the little girl in his arms. “She’s so precious,” you said softly, catching Rick’s eyes again.

He pressed a kiss to her soft hair and nodded. “She is.”

“Alright, dinner is on,” Carol yelled over the somewhat boisterous noise. “Everybody grab a seat before it’s cold!”

Rick gave you a kind smile and nudged his head in the direction of the table. You followed him over, glancing back at the doorway Daryl had disappeared through and hoping to see him but it was still empty.

You randomly picked a chair between two empty ones and sank down into it. Carl sat down next to you on one side.

“Hi,” he said, giving you a smile. “Y/N, right? Daryl talks about you a lot.”

You felt another flush of heat in your cheeks. “Yeah, that’s me,” you said, definitely feeling out of place. “You’re Carl, right? Daryl talks about you a lot,” you said managing a smile. The teenager grinned. Where the hell was Daryl?

The chair on the other side of you suddenly was pulled out abruptly and it made a loud scraping sound on the wood floor which seemed to draw everyone’s attention, not only you. Most of the conversation in the room quieted. You looked over and watched as a brown-haired man with a mullet sank into the seat, his eyes immediately on you.

“Hello,” he said abruptly. “My name is Dr. Eugene Hermann Porter and I am most pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said eagerly. His eyes were a bit wide and fixed on your face as you stared back at him in surprise. His tone was unique, somewhat flat with a heavy southern accent and oddly formal almost.

You nodded, your own eyes wide as you looked back at him. “Hi,” you said quietly. “I’m, uhh, Y/N…”

“I am fully and completely aware of who you are,” he said. His stare was intense and unwavering and you immediately felt a bit uncomfortable beneath it, tearing your eyes away from his which you could still feel fixated on you.

You glanced around at the others at the table, a little uneasy and definitely trying to avoid Eugene’s gaze, and you saw some trying to stifle laughter at how the self-proclaimed genius was gaping at you. Others were less successful at stifling the laughs and there was certainly some head shaking and amused eye-rolling.

Rosita spoke next, snapping her fingers in Eugene’s direction. “Ey! Eugene! ¡Oye!” His eyes snapped to her face. “What have I told you about the staring?” she snapped. “You’re making her uncomfortable! ¡Basta!”

You noted that he looked chastised and he lowered his eyes to his plate, but continued to steal glances at you that he apparently thought were subtle but which definitely were not.

Abraham put a hand up to his face and shook his head as Sasha, Glenn, and Maggie laughed appreciatively.

“Hey!”

You knew that gruff voice. You looked back and watched as Daryl jostled the chair Eugene was in.

“Get on out. Move,” he said.

Eugene tried to argue. “But I’ve already claimed this spot. There’s a perfectly vacant chair right over—”

“Nah, c’mon. Out,” Daryl snapped again.

Eugene stared at him for a moment, but Daryl’s eyes were unwavering and eventually Eugene quailed beneath the stare, his shoulders slumping, and he moved over one chair. Daryl sank down beside you and gave you a hint of a smile. You returned it eagerly.

Dinner began and was lighthearted as everyone chatted and passed the food around the table. You were accepting a bowl from Carl when he caught sight of the red puncture wounds on your palm. “What happened?” he asked, pointing at your hand. Everyone seemed to immediately key in on the question and be looking your way.

“Oh. Uhh—” You glanced over at Daryl as if for help with an explanation but you were met with no assistance and only a small curve in his lips and his eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. You stared down at the punctures in your palm. “Just—from some broken glass on the run today. It’s nothing,” you said, giving Carl a reassuring smile, your heart pounding in your chest with everyone’s eyes on you.

“Nah, c’mon,” Daryl said, teasing plain in his voice. “Don’t lie to ‘im. He’s just a kid.”

You shot a look at him. “I’m not—That’s what—” You wanted nothing more than to punch him hard in the arm right then.

Daryl took a huge bite of bread and stared back at you. “Lie of omission,” he drawled through his full mouth. “Tell ‘im the whole story.”

He watched you clench your jaw and give him another pointed look. There was a mischievous spark in his blue eyes, fixed steadily on your face, that made it impossible for you to be too genuinely annoyed.

“We want to hear about the run today anyway,” Maggie said. “How’d everything go?”

Daryl obviously wasn’t going to answer so you sighed and nodded, your hands twirling your water glass anxiously. “We… We got everything on the list that the clinic needed,” you said.

“And had some more bad luck with a rotten floor,” Daryl added, glancing over at you. “Seems to be becoming a habit.”

“Daryl said you were going to have to go to a hospital. No walkers? We should go back and clean the place out if we can. Stock up before anyone else gets to the supplies or before we need ‘em,” Rick said.

Your mouth dropped open as you searched for how to respond. “Uhh—no, there—there were walkers…”

Daryl leaned forward with his elbows on the table. You felt the convivial mood in the room darken. “We had a close call,” he rumbled. “Y/N got us out.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you again and you stared down into your water glass. “It was nothing,” you murmured.

“Nah. It was somethin’,” Daryl insisted. He leaned forward and looked at Carl. “She got those punctures on her hands because she broke a bunch of glass to put in some nail bombs when we were trapped by walkers. Made a way out. Blasted ‘em to hell.”

“Wait—sorry. Did you say nail bombs?” Glenn repeated.

You hazarded a glance at the faces around the dinner table and most of them were staring right back at you, some with unreadable expressions and others with looks of surprise or amazement.

Carl broke the tension. “Heh…cool,” he said with a laugh.

And just like that everyone was letting out relieved laughter. The tension in the room broke and you passed the rest of dinner in more comfort. You didn’t say much, content to keep to yourself and watch the members of Daryl’s group interact with each other.

And Daryl couldn’t stop stealing glances at you the whole time.

You insisted on helping with the post dinner clean-up, feeling somewhat more relaxed after the shared meal. Daryl was sitting in the living room sharpening his knife just for something to do, purposely positioned where his eyes could flit up and find you easily.

Glenn wandered over to the archer, his hands stuffed into his back pockets. Daryl looked up with a question in his eyes.

“What?” he asked, his deep voice heavy with gravel.

Glenn smiled at him and just shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing…” he trailed off. Glenn glanced into the kitchen in your direction and then looked back at Daryl. “Just—life’s short, man. What are you waiting for? Besides, you better hurry before Eugene beats you to it,” he joked.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 25:

You blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

For a minute you were disoriented, head spinning in confusion until you pieced together where you were. Who’s apartment you were in. Who was currently still fast asleep in your lap.

You flushed, still just as affected by his proximity as you were earlier. Except- it was slightly different now. Those little kitten snores? The ones you’d previously only heard over the phone? Well, now they were falling from his mouth in real time- in real life. In front of you. He was so close and warm and soft and uncharacteristically quiet and all you wanted to do was kiss him. 

The past few days, you’d been so focused on how he’d lied and his injuries that you’d almost forgotten just how much you liked him. You couldn’t forget now. Not with the way he had a hand under his cheek, fingers just barely curling your sweatshirt in his sleepy grip.

Your fingers itched with the need to touch him- to somehow expel all that rolling fondness and affection that was boiling over in you. You couldn’t help yourself, your fingers beginning to once again move lightly through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp as you went. 

You knew he’d be mad at your actions if he was awake- or flustered and embarrassed at the very least. But you just wanted to be nice to him. To show him how much you cared about him, and you were determined to do that- even if he seemed absolutely allergic to it. 

So you sat and stared shamelessly and soaked up the proximity and warmth radiating off his body. And it was perfect and serene and so sugary sweet for a while- until you realized how much your legs hurt.

They hurt and ached and were sore because Katsuki was heavy.

Absurdly heavy.

And the thing about him was, you were only supporting his head and his shoulders! On your legs too- not even your arms! Even so though, the honest to god weight of him was just ridiculous. He was a solid mass of nothing but strength and power and, quite frankly, ludicrous musculature. And if he wasn’t murdering your legs right now, and not in the fun way, you’re absolutely sure you’d be much more thrilled about these facts.

As it stands now though, nothing but an escape plan was on your mind. Even if the rest of you was only screaming to pull him closer.

“Katsuki.” You tried once more, prodding at his cheek lightly. “Katsuki, c’mon-time to get up.”

He had no reaction. Not even an eye twitch when you ghosted your hands over his face. In all honesty it seemed like he was dead. His breathing was so deep and slow it was almost non-existant and when you called him name, no matter how many times you said it, there wasn’t even a mumble- now whether that was effect of the pain meds or just him ignoring you, you had no idea.

Sighing with finality, and a genuine apology, you lifted his head. It was a struggle, and his unresponsiveness surely didn’t help, but eventually you escaped. You slipped a pillow under his head, patted his cheek fondly, and left towards his kitchen.

Now, was the easy part. Or was supposed to be the easy part- but considering this was Katsuki you should’ve known better.

His fridge was packed to the brim, overflowing with ingredients, but they were all ridiculous health foods. You wanted familiarity and comfort and grease- not green. Not the terrible, bitter, dark green vegetables that seemed to be the only thing he had.

What kind of guy doesn’t have junk food? You thought, shaking your head in utter disbelief. And he tells me I’m the weird one?

With a sigh, you begin rifling through the drawers for something at least a bit fattening, and you can’t kid yourself, it does soothe that itch from earlier. That weird, tingling, constant itch to pick apart every little detail and mix and match them together until you knew every possible thing about Bakugou there was to know. Until you knew things about him that no one else did- until you knew him better than he even knew himself.

And maybe that was selfish, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much. If talking to him, knowing him was intoxicating before, just over the phone, than it was an addiction now. Here in this apartment, surrounded entirely by pieces of him, Katsuki felt real. He felt tangible and honest and complete, and you’d never be satisfied with just texts and phone calls again.

Grinning widely, you grabbed the blocks of cheese, and a few different freshly-cut herbs. Inspiration had struck, and within the weirdly hearty contents of his refridgerator lied your saving grace.

Grilled cheese- because at the end of the day, you were a child through and through.

Gathering the rest of the ingredients, and searching for a pan, you couldn’t contain the warmth in your chest. Not only were you going to be eating good food, but you were sharing it. With your soulmate. It was a weird little bit of domesticity, preparing a meal for him, but you couldn’t say you hated it.

Apparently, you’d made too much noise with the pan, because suddenly you hear shuffling. Glancing behind you, Katsuki is grumbling under his breath as he clambers into the kitchen. He’s all loose limbs and sleepy grunts, grumpily throwing himself down into a seat at the counter, just a few feet away from you.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sunshine, could you be any goddamn louder?”

You’re not sure if it’s the combination of the nickname and his crackling sleep-laden voice, or maybe it’s the way his cheeks are stil warmed from sleep, but you melt. Practically dissolve into the floor beneath you. That feeling- that aching one from earlier where all you wanted to do was kiss him silly? Yeah, it’s back now. Back in full-force and unleashing a hellish barrage of butterflies in your stomach.

“Nothin’ to say? Yeah. Thought so. Idiot.” He barks.

“Not a morning person?” You recover, quickly turning back to the stove. Hopefully it’ll cover up the absolute hearts you currently had for eyes.

“It’s 8 PM.”

“It was a joke, angry man.” You laugh. Turning back, you sneak a glance at him, completely unable to help yourself. “Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I’m not fuckin’ grumpy.”

Bakugou mumbles it so quietly and petulantly that you almost can’t hold back your squeal. There he is, just feet away, currently holding the title for World’s Most Adorable Pout and you couldn’t do anything!

Well, maybe you could- if you were bolder and stronger. But you weren’t. Right now you felt weak.

“You could just go back to sleep, you know.” You finally say.

“And let ya fuck up my kitchen unsupervised?” He yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes. “No fuckin’ thanks.”

“It’s only grilled cheese, I think I’ll manage.”

“Grilled cheese? Am I five or some shit?”

“No- but I am. And it’s what I’m making.” You supplied, an easy smile gracing your lips. “So it’s either you have one too, or you starve to death. Your choice, Katsuki dear.”

He blushes when you look at him, hiding it behind his hand. “Yeah. Whatever. Just make sure it’s fucking edible.”

“That’s a tall order, angry man. I might not be able to do it.” You say teasingly, terribly high on a mixture of him and your own fuzzy feelings. “We’ll see, huh?”

Katsuki just nods, dropping his head into his hands. He still looks tired, his eyes half-lidded and eyebrows drawn low, but he’s fighting sleep. Every time you turn to glance at him, he’s blinking himself awake, and every time you turn away you can feel his eyes on your back. It was sweet- until it wasn’t. Until he ruined it.

“Your knife skills are fuckin’ terrible, idiot.”

“Wow- thanks.” You snort, but your motions don’t cease. You’re steady and sure with your chops, even in the face of his ridiculous criticism. “And to think I went to all this trouble for you.”

“You’re just chopping stupid onions.”

“And caramelizing them!” You defend, adding the diced onions into your pan full of oil. You turn back to him, brandishing your knife playfully. “Which you’d know if you let me get that far!”

“A knife! In my own fuckin’ kitchen? That supposed to be a shitty ass threat or somethin’?”

“No, if I was gonna threaten you, I wouldn’t use a knife. That’s just a bad battle tactic, really”

“Yeah?” He takes the bait, perks up a little bit as an easy smile rolls across his face. “What’d you fuckin’ use then, idiot?”

“Fire extinguisher.”

Katsuki’s amused- you know he is, can see it in the way his eyes shine, but he’s fighting it. He’s pulling his mouth into a half-hearted grimace and scowling at you when he replies.

“You’re not fuckin’ funny. That wasn’t funny.”

“I am and it was, but that’s okay.” You shrug, going back to carmelizing the onions. They’re nearly done now, and you add a few spices and a dash more oil in with them. “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

“You’re talking like you can win any.”

“Hey! I’d be careful there, angry man. I know where you live, you know.”

That does elicit a snort from him, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “You plannin’ to kill me in my sleep?”

“Now if I told you that wouldn’t very much of a plan, would it?”

“No. Guess even a dumbass like you can understand that much.”

“Katsuki,” You sigh dreamily, turning your head to bat your eyelashes at him dramatically. “You have such a way with words! Makes a girl feel so special.”

He seems stunned for a moment, before he blushes and averts his eyes. Recovery for him takes a second- but only just a second.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so fuckin’ funny.” He grumbles, mouth drawn into a thin line. “What’s got you so goddamn cheery anyway?”

“Took a nap. Feelin’ energized.”

“When?”

“When you took one?” You say, idly stirring the ingredients in the pan. “What- you thought I was awake the whole time? That I did nothing but just pet your hair and watch you sleep? For hours?”

He doesn’t say anything, and that seals it for you.

Katsuki had to be the cutest thing on Earth. Just the most adorable little rabid thing who you wanted to keep forever and hug super close and maybe kiss all over. He was precious, and when you looked over to see that he was indeed blushing- well, those feelings only multiplied 1000x over.

“N-no! I didn’t! Fuck no! Don’t be fucking stupid!” He defends, all sleep now gone from his features. “I didn’t! I didn’t and I don’t so shut the fuck up about it!”

You’re not sure if it was the nap or his flustered state that gives you strength, but you’re crossing the room before you can help it. Standing just on the other side of the counter, you lean across it on your elbows, catching his gaze. There’s feelings fluttering wildy in your chest- warm, blistering, uncontainable feelings threatening to burst through your skin and you find you just can’t help yourself.

“Would you like me to pet your hair and watch you sleep for hours? Huh? Katsuki?”

He damn near jolts in his seat- back ridgid and jaw set and eyes so very, very, alive. Flushing, red gathers around his cheeks and his neck and the tips of his ears. Your ears ring prematurely in anticipation, in pure sympathy for the way your ear drums are seconds away from being burst entirely.

“Why the fuck- I didn’t! Why the fuck would you even say that?” He screams, voice tearing from his throat with a feral growl. “You think your funny or some shit? Asking weird shit and being fucking weird in my goddamn kitchen? Tryna start a fuckin’ fight with me? I’ll start a fuckin’ fight!”

Bakugou square his shoulders, mouth set into a determined line through his harsh words. He’s pushing away from the counter, just barely swinging his legs over the chair when you reach him.

“Sit back down, angry man.” You laugh, the sound uncontrollable as it tumbles from your mouth. You push at his rising shoulders until he relents. Watching as he sinks back into his seat, you smile widely. “No fight! I was joking!”

“Well I don’t think your jokes are very fuckin’ funny!”

“Mhm, I know.” You say indulgently, unable to keep the fondness from your tone. “But don’t worry, grumpy, I think that’s all I have. No more jokes for tonight.”

“Now you’re just fuckin’ lying to me.” He barks, but even through the bite you can hear his smile. “You really are askin’ for a fight, aren’t ya?”

“No, I’m not. Seriously.” You soothe.

He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to watching you cook. You’re dropping bread into the pan, watching it brown and adding cheese. Some of the shredded cheese hits the pan, burns quickly- makes a popping sound.

The smile captures your face before you can stop it. Again, you find that you really just can’t help yourself around him.

“And even if I was starting a fight,” You start again, laughing lightly with your back turned to him. “I wouldn’t get very far now, would I? You’d blow me up in a second, huh, angry man?”

You hear him shift in the chair, hear his sharp exhale and his arms hitting the counter. You expect an angry retort, hell, maybe even a cocky one- but that’s not what you get when you turn to face him.

“I would never blow you up.”

His eyes widen, shoulders tensing immediately. You weren’t fairing any better- just as surprised by his quick statement as he was.

In all your life, in all your soulmate fantasies, you had never imagined the words “I would never blow you up” to be the tipping point for you. You never imagined that those words would be what sent you over- what broke the weird dam of feelings that had been welling in you since the day you texted him. But it was.

You were crossing the kitchen before you knew it, careful, sure, strides carrying you to his side. You hands fell around his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet your eyes, and suddenly, all at once, it hit you.

“I like you.” You admit breathlessly, your fond laugh erupting from your chest and raw and unfettered and real. “I- I like you so much, you asshole. You know that? Right?”

He looks winded, his eyes widening as you draw slow circles with your thumbs on his cheeks. You can just barely see it, he only just hardly lets you, but you watch the way he leans into your touch. Just the barest bit of extra weight in your hands, only for a moment, before he pulls back just a bit, smirking up at you.

“Fuckin’ said that already, dumbass.”

“Katsuki!”You whine in protest, rolling your eyes as you let go of his cheeks. “I was being nice!”

You had planned to retreat after that, but the way he suddenly smiles keeps you rooted where you stand. It’s confident little smirk, sitting just at the edge of his mouth- it’s so coy and immature and playful and so very much him that it pulls you in. You’re stepping closer, just a little, and that only makes him, as if he understands, smirk a little more.

He’s like a magnet, you realize, blushing wildly. A dangerous magnet- and I’m an idiot for letting myself get this close.

“I was bein’ nice.” He finally says, grin absolutely shit-eating at this point. “What the hell are you complain’ about, woman- that was nice. You don’t like me bein’ nice to you?”

“That was not nice!”

“I think it was.” He shrugs, so very self-assured and taking the piss. “Think maybe you’re just too fuckin’ sensitive? Hah?”

It’s the way he says it- so cooly and calmly and almost smugly. Like he’s got you backed into a corner and just waiting under his finger. And, truthfully, he does, but you’re much too competitive to just accept that. Much too familiar with the way he’ll blush and scream and fluster at even a hint of pushback. So even with shaky breaths, and a heart fluttering out of control, you challenge him.

“Out of the two of us,” You start, a shaky hand ghosting feather-light under his chin, just barely tilting his face up. “I’m not the sensitive one.”

He takes the bait, just as you knew he would, and rises to it. Even blushing as he was, Katsuki only inches closer in challenge, catching your gaze in full. “Big fuckin’ words, sunshine. Be careful.”

The nickname was playing dirty, and he knew it. You could see it in the careful set of his jaw, the way that incredibly irritating smirk was still sitting unbidden across his stupid beautiful face. You couldn’t let him win. You just couldn’t. 

“Yeah, you’re so angry, aren’t you? So scary, pop rocks.” You tease, desperately trying to move past your breathlessness. Your hand moves on it’s own, threading carefully through his hair. “But not around me.”

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’ve gone soft, Katsuki.”

His hackles raise at that, and he clenches his jaw, eyes raging like wildfires. Bakugou doesn’t move away though, only gets closer, his hot breath hitting your face. “I’m. Not. Fuckin’. Soft!”

“Really?”

He nods, so very determined and offended and focused that you laugh. Your giggle makes him angry, you can see it in his eyes, but that only draws you closer. Only a few inches separate the two of you, but it’s like you can’t get close enough. It’s his magnetism, the way he’s still provoking you -despite being so red- that has your hands dropping from his head, crossing together behind his shoulders. You giggle again, warm, happy, heat flooding you at the proximity.

“Prove it then, Katsuki.”

Your defiance only seems to make him angrier. To make him boil because then he’s snarling, eyebrows creasing sharply, and he’s surging upwards, pressing his lips to yours. There’s no grace to it, no soft romance, just brutal pressure and his sharp teeth and his rough hands on your face. All things considered, it was the most aggressive kiss you’d ever recieved, but maybe you should’ve expected that. Still, it takes your breath away, nearly knocks your feet out from under you.

“Still think I’m fuckin’ soft?” Bakugou pulls away, so red he’s about to explode, but he’s still sitting there smirking like he’s won. “Hah?”

You can’t help it- you’d never heard his voice, felt it against your skin this close before. You shiver. That only seems to amuse him more, but then he’s looking past you. 

“Bread’s gonna fuckin’ burn.”

“Y-yeah!” You’re shocked out of whatever hold he had you in, shoulders straightening as you backed away. “Yeah. I know. I got it.” 

You felt winded, nearly weightless and fuzzy and flying as you turned back to the food. Your lips still tingled, fire sitting unrelenting in your cheeks as you finished. Part of you wondered where the hell that Katsuki came from, but then again, you figured that was part of him all along. He wouldn’t lose to anybody- and definitely not to you. 

You plate up the food, and when you turn around he’s still smirking. You want to kiss the smugness right off his idiotic gorgeous lips and you promise yourself you will. Later. 

“It’s hot, so be careful.” You say, sliding his plate across the counter to him.

“Obviously, dumbass. You think I’m that fuckin’ stupid?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to burn your taste buds off before you could really eat.” You smile, rounding the counter with your own food and taking a seat next him. “You’d really be missing out!” 

“What- you make it special or some shit?”

“Mhm. Just for you, angry man!” You laugh. “Figured you deserved something good after all your hard work and heroics.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, so comically large and bright as he blushes and bites his knuckle. He turns away so quick, nearly cracking his neck with how fast he averts his eyes. “D-don’t just say that shit to me. Fucking weirdo.”

You took a deep breath, physically willing yourself not to turn away and squeal as loud as you could. He just had no right to be that adorable. Katsuki had fully kissed you, hands on your face and biting pressure, but he drew the line at being served food? At being served kind words? 

Oh- oh. You realized. It was words for him- affirmation. That was his real weakness. You filed it away, incredibly excited for the next time you got to test that little theory out on him. 

Dinner was an interesting affair- it was quiet and relatively calm, at least for everyone but the poor grilled cheese you’d served to him. He’d torn into it the second it was cool enough, nearly demolishing it in his sharp teeth. You figured you should’ve guessed that, that he’d eat the way he did everything else- aggressively.  

“You want anything else?” You ask, gathering the plates and cleaning up the counter.

“No. I’m good.” He grunts. “Thank you for the food, but if I want anything else I’ll get it my fuckin’ self.” 

“A simpler thank you would’ve worked just as well.”

“It’s- I’m not,” He grumbles, stubborn as ever. “The food was good. Thank you. I’m just saying you didn’t have to go to all the fuckin’ trouble. If I need somethin’ I’ll get it. I’m not a fuckin’ invalid who can’t do anything.”

“Oh my god.” You mumble under your breath, spinning around to face him. “Will you please just let me help you?”

“I don’t fuckin’ need it.”

“Katsuki- c’mon, just let me take care of you. Help you. Please.”

He looks stunned, maybe even vulnerable, as you near. You take one of his hands in yours.

“Don’t be so stubborn, angry man. I just want to take care of you.” You plead, not letting him look away. “Somebody’s gotta right? Especially since you’re still sore.”

“‘M-’m not that sore. I’ll be fuckin’ fine. Done it before.”

“Yeah, maybe, you have, and I’m sure you still could. I know you’re strong.” You supply. “So strong- but you don’t always have to be strong all by yourself anymore. We can be strong together. I’m here for you, you know?”

Something in his eyes seems so tiny and small and unsure at your words, and it breaks your heart. There aren’t enough words in the world for all you want to say in that moment, so you just take his head in your hands, kiss him with every bit of care and concern you hold for him.

Well you pull back, he won’t look at you, his cheeks gone nearly as red as his vulnerable eyes. His shoulders shake, and he takes a deep breath, turning his head to place a tiny little kiss into the palm of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but the tiny action communicates almost everything you need to know.

“I saw that fall, alright?” You soothe, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks. “It was pretty nasty, and you’ve gotta be feeling shitty right now. I get it, and I don’t think less of you for it, and I’m not taking ‘pity’ on you or whatever you’re thinking so much about- I really just want to help you feel better. Because I care about you, and I’m so proud of you of saving that kid, and you deserve so many nice things. You gotta let someone help you, okay?”

He nods slowly, but you can see the resistance in the grimace of his mouth. It wasn’t easy for him- accepting help and admitting to any sort of fragility. You’d knew he’d fight you every step of the way- but that was okay. You’d never backed down from one of his challenges before.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again, and I want you to just listen. Just listen and answer.” You tap a finger against his cheek. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“I-I fuckin’- I can’t.” He breathes, stuttered and anxious, frustrated eyes flitting between every object in the room. “Embarrassing- you’re fuckin’ tryin’ to- I don’t need stupid special treatment! I’m not weak!”

“I know. I know. I’m not saying you are.” You close the distance, pressing a light kiss into his hairline. “Being hurt isn’t the same thing as being weak. Being injured doesn’t mean you’re weak- and accepting help due to those injuries doesn’t make you weak either. You survived that fall because you’re strong, but you don’t have to be right now. Not unless that’s what you really want- not unless being alone right now is really what would help you best.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares up at you with eyes so guarded that it makes you want to cry.

“Is it? Is that what you want?” You ask tenatively. “If you’re really not feeling up to it, just want to shut down and sleep instead, I don’t have to be here. I want to, because I care about you, but I won’t force you. I can leave if-“

Bakugou suddenly grasps at your wrist, fingers twitching on your skin. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are pinched, but he presses your hand into his burning cheeks.

“Yeah. Okay.” You whisper, the fondness and affection dripping from your words, thick and heavy as they leave your mouth. “I get it. I understand- you don’t have to say it.”

He just nods tightly, eyes still closed.

You stay there for a moment, just breathing in the rare vulnerability that was rolling off of him. Then you find it’s not enough- that you need more contact. You’re surging forward, tucking his head into your neck as you wind feather-light arms around him, careful to avoid his injuries.

Bakugou fights it, going rigid and stiff and resitant at first. He hardly looks at you, just barely, but you catch his gaze and nod. It’s all it takes before he’s allowing himself to sink into you, his arms pulling you closer.

It’s hesitancy, than acceptance and than desperation, and suddenly he’s holding you so tightly, clutching at you like you’re gonna fade. Like you’ll slip through his calloused fingers. It makes you ache. Sends volts of throbbing pain through your chest that have you squeezing him tighter.

It makes you want to sob- the way he seemed so resistant to softness despite being so obviously starved for it. You wondered if anyone else had stuck around this long; if anyone else had noticed just how desperate he was for someone to finally hear him.

It was alright now, you figured. He had you now and you’d listen for as long as he allowed you to.

“You don’t have to say anything,” You start, voice quiet, turning your head to whisper against his hair. “But I want you to know that I think you’re good. That I think that you’re so strong, the absolute bravest, and that you did a really good thing saving that kid. I believe you- when you said that you were working on it. You’re not so angry anymore and I get it. I know I haven’t know you that long, but still, I’m so proud of you for it.”

He just melts into you further, a shuddering breath against your neck. You think you can feel a smile- just the tiniest little twitch of his lips. A hesitant, honest, thing that has unbridled fondess tearing through your chest.

You stay like that for a few minutes, so close and warm and connected, before he’s pushing you away. Just barely pressing away from you until he can look you in the eyes.

“I- uh, I fuckin’ like you too.” He stutters out, so very red and exposed and genuine. He seems to struggle with the eye contact, but he holds it anyway. “And think you’re okay. Or whatever.”

Truthfully, you wanted to tease him. Wanted to giggle and laugh and pick apart the words because he just added a “Or whatever” to the end of his declaration. It was quite possibly the lamest possible phrase to tack onto the end of an emotional statement and you wanted to say something- but now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t even want to imagine the walls he’d put up if you laughed at him right now.

So you didn’t, you just pulled him close again. Hugged him tight and hid your pleased smile where he couldn’t see it. Bakugou stills then, resting his head against you and shutting his eyes. His anxiety fades from his shoulders and his breathing slows; if you you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was falling asleep.

“You want more pain meds?” You ask after a while. “Think it’s probably about time.”

He just nods. You begin to move away, and he follows you for a second. Just a second though- and then he’s catching himself and fisting his hands tightly shut in his lap, cheeks flushing.

“The nightime ones look pretty intense.” You comment, reading the label on the bottle. You give it a playful shake. “You wanna get high, angry man?”

He’s scoffing and rolling his eyes but he’s smiling too. Katsuki holds a hand out and you toss him the bottle.

“Not a fuckin’ baby.” He grunts, twisting open the bottle. He dry-swallows the pills; you he does it just to prove a point. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, those pills kinda look like horse tranquilizers. Worringly so.” You refill his glass of water, shoving it towards him before he can protest. “Now drink up. Then you’re spending the rest of the night on the couch, where you should’ve been. The whole time. Resting.”

“Jeez, pushy woman. I get it. Chill out already.”

“How am I supposed to chill out when you keep not listening to me, huh?” You take the empty glass from his hands. “Now, c’mon, go- back to the living room. I know you’re not gonna let me help you, but I swear to god, if I don’t see you hobbling away in a few seconds, I’m gonna be really angry at you.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, all petulant dramatics and huffy sighs, but gets up anyway- actually listens to you even if it seems like it physically pains him. Actually, knowing him, it probably does.

He collapses into the couch as you bring another water over- just in case. You meant it when you said you didn’t want him getting up again.

“So, I’m thinkin’ you’ve got, max, maybe 30 minutes? Possibly 45?” You say settling in on the other side of the couch. “So pick a movie.”

He looks at you a little weirdly. “Why?”

“Because those meds are gonna knock you the fuck out.” You laugh, unable to hold it in. “And because watching movies is a relaxing activity. And that’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now. Relaxing.”

“So you’ve fuckin’ said. I get it, woman. Put whatever you want on, I don’t care.”

“Really? No preference at all?”

“No.” He puffs out his cheeks, averts his eyes. “Normally don’t have time for that shit.”

You can’t help it- the way you find yourself sidling right up next to him. You’re careful, sure to avoid all his sore limbs, but you take a chance and poke at his chest lightly.

“No time, huh?” You say, catching his eyes. “I’ll find a way to change that.”

His eyes widen and his cheeks redden, and as usual, he doesn’t say anything. Katsuki just hides his face over your head, tucking you into his chest as he huffs.

“Course you fuckin’ would. You’re the most irritating woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a complement.”

“You fuckin’ shouldn’t. It’s not.”

“Well, I think I will anyway.” You giggle, sinking into his hold. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you like me- you did kiss me first, you know.”

Bakugou goes ridgid at that, face heating as he forcibly shucks you from him. He looks appalled, absolute disbelief covering his features.

“T-that’s not! I fuckin’- I did that shit to win! Because you said I was soft! I’m not fucking soft, you shitty woman!”

“Mhm. I know.” You laugh, nearing him again and stopping just inches from his red face. You’re blushing too, horribly so, but you can’t help teasing him. Nothing could stop you from riling him up further- it was your favorite past-time after all. “You wanna try winning again? I’ll promise I’ll let you. Katsuki.”

Pop.

He shrinks back in his seat, jolts like he’s the one who just got shocked. He isn’t. You are- and you’re laughing and smiling and breaking the tension all at once.

“That’s- Don’t fuckin’ do that to me! Goddamn witch! What the hell is that? Fuckin’ breaking my quirk? What the fuck?” He roars as he tucks his hands under his legs. “You know how long I been workin’ on controlling that shit? Just to have you walk in and fuck it up? Stop it! I fuckin- you make me so mad! Stop laughing!”

“I-I’m not. I’m not! It’s just,” You begin, breathless and gasping. “I was wondering, you know, why that hadn’t happened in a while, but now I know why. And it’s adorable.”

“Shut up! It’s not and I’m not- I’m fucking cool as shit so don’t go running your fuckin’ mouth about it! You don’t know what you’re talking about, damn dumbass, you don’t know shit!”

You sober a little bit, admiration shining clearly in your eyes when you look at him. When you look at his red face- the way he flustered. Because that’s the secret, you discovered; he only popped when you embarrassed him.

“Stop yelling already.” You giggle, pressing closer to him. “It’s not a bad thing, angry man. You make me nervous too, you know?”

He spares a look at you, blinking dumbfounded at your statement. Like he couldn’t believe it. It was such a ridiculous, oblivious look on his face that you couldn’t stop yourself- you just had to kiss it away.

As much noise as he was making, it all dies away the second you meet his lips. All the resistance fades and he melts into it, hands grasping under your chin to keep you close to him.

The first kiss was about winning, and the second one about validation, and those were good, amazing, but this one was nothing but fondess. A torrent of burning, boiling, affection as your lips moved against his. It was a tender kiss, much softer and slower than the first one, and a lot more delicate but you liked it just the same. Liked being able to finally act on all the feelings you’d been storing up for weeks.

The completion you’d felt from this kiss far surpassed the charged kisses from earlier. This was kissing him just because you could, because you wanted to, and you were sure this was heaven- at least, as close to heaven as any one human should ever be allowed to get.

It felt like flying, like hurtling above the earth and surging through the clouds. Like you were Icarus and you breached the atmosphere to soar against the surface of the sun. His hands fell to the base of your spine, pressing you firmly against him, and suddenly you knew. Knew it for sure, in your bones like it’d always been carved in there-you might’ve been Icarus, but he’d never let you fall. You would get to blister and scorch and burn for as long as you’d wanted but your wax would never melt. There was no fear when falling with him. Falling for him.

You pull away, but you don’t go too far. Don’t think you could separate even if you tried. Katsuki was an addiction, a powerful, potent thing and the only salve for that itch in your skin was being close to him. As close as you could possibly manage.

He didn’t say anything, just ragged breathes as he pulled you close. That was alright, you figured, you already knew he wasn’t a man of many words. At least not of many nice ones. The thought made you giggle.

“What the fuck are you laughin’ about, idiot?” He huffs, cheeks still bright red. “What’s so fuckin’ funny, hah?”

“Nothing. I just like you. A lot.”

The statement was easy, falling from your mouth like it was seared into your tongue. You’d knew the affect it would have- that he’d jump in his skin and go shy under your touch. That was half the reason you said it after all.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, dropping a quick kiss to his heated cheek just because you could. He only seems further embarrassed by your action, hands unconciously scrunching the material of your sweatshirt. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.” He mumbles juvenilely, looking anywhere to avoid your eyes. “Die then. Fuckin’ burn, you witch.”

The laugh that tears from your chest is full and heavy and so very filled with joy that it sucks the air out of you. Has you grasping for breath as you clutch your stomach, a hand braced on the cushion behind you as you absolutely lose yourself. When the tears finally clear from your eyes, you see him smiling, apparently very pleased with his joke. Which, to be completely honest, you were too. It was a very funny joke, after all.

“You can’t- you shouldn’t call your soulmate a witch, Katsuki!”

He just shrugs, smile still stretched across his face as he watches you.

“Jesus christ, what am I gonna do with you?” You ask, heaving a breath as your last giggles fade. “You’re a real handful, you know?”

He nods, looking once again all too pleased with himself. You see his pupils though- the way they’ve slowly dialated from the meds. You had to hand it to him, being that present while fighting heavy narcotics? He really was the best at everything.

“Alright, alright, enough jokes from you, Mr. Funny Man.” You say, standing quickly to grab the blanket across the room. You sit back down, setting it to the side as you pat your lap. “Lay down.”

“I’m not-“

“Just lay down, you stubborn idiot.” You sigh. “I can see your eyes. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Not that fuckin’ tire-“

“I said, you’re tired, aren’t you?” You interrupt sternly.

He just looks at you, rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night, and collaspes into your lap. You spread the blanket over him, nearly cooing when he pulls it up to his chin and closes his eyes. He then abruptly shifts, movements jerky and aggressive as he turns onto his side and wraps his arms around you stomach.

“Aww, Katsuki-“

“Shut the fuck up, woman.” He bites out, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Say a goddamn thing and I’ll fucking bite you.”

“Ooo kinky.”

True to his word, he does bite. Not a cute bite either- it’s all pressure and sharp teeth and locked jaw against your stomach, all ridiculous force through your sweatshirt, and you swear to god if he wasn’t so cute you’d slap him.

“Katsuki!” You shrill, hands pushing his head away. “Ow! Stop! That hurts, you bitch!”

“Told you. Fuckin’ warned ya.” He grunts, relenting with a smug smile as he nuzzles back into your stomach- this time without teeth. “Now turn on the TV. Need background noise to drown you the fuck out.”

“You’re so mean!” You whine, but you’re still petting his hair fondly, shifting as minutely as you could to grab the remote.

He doesn’t say anything as the TV clicks to life, filling the room with soft instructions as the cooking channel drones on. You watch it for a while, perfectly content and sated as you scratch at his scalp. You wouldn’t pick the cooking channel on a normal day- but let’s face, you weren’t really paying that much attention to it.

Katsuki shifts suddenly, sleepily prods the base of your spine with a single finger until you jump.

“God.” You huff. “What?”

“You should stay.”

“S-stay?”

“Tonight.” He slurs, eyes just barely sliding open to display his glazed pupils. “Here.”

He’s trying to blink himself away now, hardly able to keep his eyes open. You see his blown pupils and feel his sluggish limbs- that medicine really was doing a number on him. Turns out, even the great Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t stronger than literal drugs.

Your stomach sank as you continued to look him. You wanted to stay- truly you did. But you couldn’t. It was a sunday, you had class in the morning, and your university was over in the next city.

You should stay.” He insists again.

“I’m can’t stay.”

“Fuckin- why?” He pokes your cheek with a sluggish limb, just barely missing your eyes. His own are coated in mild irritation. “Hate me that much or somethin’?”

“No.” You laugh fondly, batting his hands away and gathering them in your own. “I have class tomorrow morning, angry man.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you watch his lips pull into a pout. He pokes your cheek again. “Drop out of school.”

“I’m not gonna drop out of school.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m almost finished.” You supply indulgently, cradling his sleepy face in your hands. “I can always visit tomorrow.”

“No. Now.”

“Katsuki,” You giggled, unable to contain it. “I really can’t. I can’t just do everything you say, you know.”

“Never fuckin’- never do anythin’ I say.”

“I know.”

He’s quiet again, head lolling to bury itself back into your stomach. You look at the time, and laugh- you guess 9:47 was past his bed time even when he wasn’t sky high off of pain meds.

“Stay.” He orders again, arms winding tighter against your stomach.

“You’re so loopy, my dear angry man.” You coo, catching his face in your palms, tilting his head until you meet his glazed eyes. “God, I can’t wait to tell you about this tomorrow morning.”

“When you’re still here.”

“I’m not- Katsuki!” You giggle. “What has that medicine done to you, oh my god.”

He just shrugs, closing his eyes as he drops his head back further into your palms. At this point, so flustered and outright giddy at his adorable actions, you were sure that your hands had to be shaky- but if they were he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you serious, right now? It’s- that’s all your weight! What’re you gonna do; just break your neck if I move my hands?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ probably.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“Mhm. Don’t move ‘em then.” He slurs. “World’s- world’s gonna be real fuckin’ mad if you kill me.”

You want to retort, want to argue with him and his ridiculousness, but he wouldn’t be awake to find out. He’s fallen asleep almost as soon as he finishes the thought, head falling completely into your palms, even more dead weight than before. Surpressing a squeal, you set his head back down on your thighs, heart pounding wildly when he nuzzles into your stomach.

His kitten snores start again, those same adorable little ones from earlier, and it’s like you had no choice. Mid-terms were coming up soon, and it was a terrible choice to skip class tomorrow morning, and your back would kill you when you woke up, but your grave was dug the second he’d cuddled into you.

Bakugou Katsuki always got his way after all- always won, even when it came to you. So you didn’t fight the sleep gathering in your eyes, letting your head fall heavy against the cushion behind you.

You stayed. You would stay, and you knew it was just because he asked you to, because he had you wrapped so tightly and completely around his explosive fingers- no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

//-//

enjoy the fluff kissy kissy :))

[my-tin-can-mans]

Time to Yourselves (Captain Rex x Reader)

warnings: oh boy there are none but this is tooth rotting fluff ya'll i couldn't help myself with this soft boy, he deserves so much love.

PSA: I know a lot of people are expecting a Part two to the Crosshair Fic i posted awhile back but some unexpected work came up and it might be awhile before I get a chance to actually sit down and write it sorry:/ i will tag everyone thats asked to be tagged in it tho!

But for now enjoy the fluff that is this! I need to write a good fluff fic.

When the ship had finally landed on Coruscant you heaved a sigh of relief. The 501st had just finished a gruesome battle which meant as a medic you had spent the way back to base in the medical wing bay treating patients aboard the Resolute. You’d seen just about every solider aboard helping them with injuries that ranged from a minor concussion to blaster wounds.

It had been a long couple of days and the one solider you really wanted to see was the one you had yet to have the pleasure of. The doors to the ship opened and you walked out, now that the battalion was on world, you would hand over your patients to the nurses that worked here instead while you got some much-needed time off like the rest of the 501st. You met up with the head medics on ground and passed off your paperwork filling them in on the more important injuries you happened to come across while working so they were prepared.

Once you had finished up with the medical bay you went off to look for the man you hadn’t seen in days. While it upset you that you hadn’t been able to speak a word to you, it also comforted you in knowing that he hadn’t shown up in the medical bay at any point in time which meant he was better off than most of the men on board at the time. You were busy enough as it was, and he probably was too trying to write up reports on what all had gone down.

You walked back towards the landing hanger knowing him and the general usually lingered around to talk before they went their separate ways for the remainder of their time off. Sure enough there you spotted him, the back of his buzzed cut blonde hair, bucket it hand placed on his hip, talking it up with General Skywalker. Skywalker caught you walking towards them and focused his gaze on you, making Rex finally turn around to look at you.

It had felt like forever since you had seen his face. His gaze immediately softened upon seeing you. You finished the brief couple of steps you had left and planted yourself right at his side. “Captain Rex, General Skywalker.” They both nodded at you, a hint of a smirk showing on Skywalker's face.

Relationships were forbidden within the GAR and certainly that of a clone trooper. They were meant as property and therefore weren’t allowed the same free will as others. But after a while you and Rex couldn’t stay away from each other. Your relationship remained a secret but that didn’t stop the rumors from going around the 501st. Most of the men actually encouraged you two to get together but to play it safe, you and Rex hadn’t officially mentioned it to anyone.

At this point you were sure Anakin knew though. Rex would deny telling you he spilled his guts to him, but they were close and recently the General had been giving you smug glances whenever he laid eyes on you. If Rex trusted him though, you guess you would have to as well. Rex was a smart man; he knew what he was doing.

You turned to the general and spoke, “Do you mind if I steal your Captain for a few words?”

“He’s all yours.” He winked at Rex which made you narrow your eyes at the both of them causing Rex to blush and rub the back of his neck, something he had a habit of doing when he was uncomfortable or nervous.

The General turned and started to walk away, once he was far enough out of hearing range you scanned to make sure no one else would be able to hear you before whispering, “Alright that’s it Captain he definitely knows something so you might as well spill your guts to me about spilling your guts to him,” you told him while crossing your arms.

“Okay fine I told him I’m sorry but General Skywalker is the one person I can always trust beside you. He wouldn’t tell a soul. And besides if he did I’d have some pretty rough dirt on him.” The last part he said under his breath and you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear it, hell it didn’t even make sense so you just brushed it off. He looked back up to you, “is that what you came here to talk to me about?”

You sighed and softened. “No, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He went to raise a hand to your face but retreated it when he realized where you two still were, looking around to see if anyone had caught one. Fortunately, everyone else was either gone or fully immersed in whatever they were doing to care.

“How many days did the General say we had off?” you questioned. Rex was always the first of the men to know how long they’d be staying on world for.

“Not long, none of our ships have been fatally damaged and there were only a few serious injuries, so we have the rest of today and tomorrow, were stationed to be back on board at 2100 tomorrow night.”

You hummed in response. This didn’t warrant enough time for the two of you to settle on world for a while, but you didn’t take kindly to spending another night in the barracks.

“What have you got on that mind of yours?” Rex asked while raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Well, I was just thinking about how I missed you, and we haven’t been able to spend some time together in a while...” you trailed off, pondering on your descions.

“Yes”

“And I've been saving up some credits for a while now, with nothing to spend it on…” you trailed off again making him raise his eyebrow at you for the second time in reaction. “And I'm tired of sleeping on that maker awful cot in the barracks.”

“Get to your point” he rolled his eyes amused

“How about we rent a hotel for the night? Just me and you? We’ll finally get some alone time.”

“You’ve already decided on this didn’t you?”

“I’ve missed you Rex, I just want some alone time where we don’t have to hide our relationship.”

He sighed. “I know cyar'ika, I know. Tell you what, I've got a few things I need to finish up here, but send me the location of the hotel and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay” excitement started to bubble up in your stomach, finally a night in a warm comfy bed, with a fresher that had decent water pressure and Rex all to yourself.

Rex turned his head, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention before he leaned in and gave you a quick kiss. When he pulled away he winked at you and just like that he turned around and was walking off.

****

You’d decided to splurge on the hotel. You had plenty of credits, working as a medic in the GAR didn’t pay well but then again when did you ever have the time to spend it?

The hotel room was a dark blue, one side of the wall, opposite to the door was covered in glass windows, ceiling to floor with sheer ivory drapes hung throughout.

The bed was placed against the wall between the two doors, where Rex was currently fast asleep and had been from some time now.

You on the other hand stood beside one of the large drapes watching the late traffic speed by. After the events of the night occurred, Rex had fallen asleep peacefully but you were still restless. He had spent days on the battlefield while you simply cared for the couple of people still stuck in the med bay from the previous battle.

You let out a sigh, the lights of Coruscant were very entrancing, so much so that you hadn’t realized Rex had awoken from his sleep and groggily made his way over to you till his arm was wrapping around your waist and his head was leaning on your shoulder.

When you initially got up from bed, you put on your underwear and the top of Rex’s blacks, not finding your shirt, where ever it had landed when he first arrived, in the low-lit room. The shirt hung just below your waist and Rex took this as an opportunity to slide his hand up it. After behind touch starved for so long, he took every opportunity he could to feel skin on skin contact with you, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

He kissed your neck once and his thumb rubbed circles over your hip. “Come back to bed”

“mmmm convince me,” you smirked.

His grip on your waist tightened and he brought his other arm around to wrap around you as well and pull you closer to him, he placed a trail on slow, lazy kisses on your neck while he hummed, “please.”

“Ok, but only since you asked so nicely,” his grip on you loosened and you turned in his arms to look at him.

Sleep covered his face, he must not have gotten much on the way back here you thought. Skywalker’s battles seemed to cause a lot of paperwork.

You pecked him once on the lips and let him lead you back to bed. When you got under the covers and situated Rex came in behind you. But instead of lying beside you he decided to lay himself directly on top of you.

“What is this?” you chucked as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t want you getting away from me this time,” he mumbled.

“I don’t really have a choice now do I?”

“Good, I sleep better with you.”

Hearing those words hurt a little. You let out a sigh and brought your hand up to rub his scalp at the top of his neck. He hummed into you. You and Rex barely got any alone time together, only a few nights like these out of a month were spent sleeping in each other’s arms, and to know most of the time he just didn’t sleep as well was hard to hear. Your mind stuck on the thought for a while but came to the conclusion that it was a useless debate, he was fighting a war, it was far more important than the two of you. Your mind slowly started to drift back to sleep.

[nightingaelic]

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nat and the House: Jameson

CW: Pet whump survivor, collar mentions, references to past pet whump, referenced ptsd flashbacks

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

“Okay, well. Here we are.” Nat opens the door for him, swinging back the heavy wood and stepping inside. The sun is warm on his back, but it drops away into a chill as he steps inside. His eyes shift back and forth, trying to bury his curiosity under a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

The house is big, although not as big as Jake Stanton’s. It’s old, and creaky, and feels alive in a way that newer houses don’t. It’s a place that has seen so many lives move through its halls, felt so many hands on doorknobs and walls, that it’s taken in some of each person who has slept here. They’ve left something behind, and it’s the breath inside the house.

It’s the whisper of air against the back of his neck, slightly chilled, that tells him that a hundred voices have bounced off these walls, with their own pain and fear, long before his added to the chorus. 

Jameson swallows, lingering in the doorway and staring ahead at a carpeted staircase that winds up and disappears around a 90-degree turn, at the coat closet just beside it. There’s a built-in shelf on the landing he can see the bottom half of, lined with photographs in small cheap dollar-store frames. 

Off to one side of the entryway, there’s a big double-door-sized opening into a gigantic living room - to the other side, a dining room with a large table covered in boxes, paperwork, books, and some flannels hung from an empty china cabinet, looking still damp, drying. Beyond that, a small kitchen, he can just see the corner of the oven.

This is a house with breath. This is a house with a voice.

The house tastes like a crackling fire, the mix of heated air and chilled, melted marshmallows inside s’mores, the crunch of graham cracker and chocolate bar underneath. 

This is a good house.

“Sorry,” Natalie Yoder says over one shoulder, moving ahead of him to flick a light switch. Jameson flinches, just a little, when a warm yellow bulb inside a false chandelier lights above his head. Her braid thumps against her back, a deep chocolate brown with strips of silvery white running through it. “I haven’t had anyone here in a long time, so the house is a mess. Just me these days.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. Natalie Yoder has a good voice, too, it’s full and warm, it tastes like hot chocolate, the kind that goes light on the sugar and is just a little bitter and spiced with cinnamon. Her voice feels smooth on his tongue. He can trust people who taste like this, he thinks, and he takes another step inside.

“H-How… how long?” His voice croaks a little, it rasps. Long-term damage to his vocal chords, they said, from screaming so often for so long. 

She stops and looks back at him, and there’s a gentleness in her tempered by the steel he’s already seen. She gives him a slight smile. “Long enough to speak to Dr. Berger, get you on your meds, and give them time to settle in your system. Could be a month or two to figure out exactly what’s going to work for you. Then see what happens with a couple of controlled interactions.”

He nods again. She speaks like an expert - she is the expert, he guesses, because she’s seen a hundred people like him in her life and Jameson has only ever known himself. 

Not that he’s even sure he knows himself that well, most days.

He has his collar on, buckled tightly around his neck, a comfortable constriction. A reminder that he isn’t in control, someone else is, and what happens from here isn’t his fault. It’s not his responsibility, because a pet can’t be responsible for anything.

He left Jake Stanton lying on a couch’s pull-out bed because he can’t go up the stairs, pale and unconscious, and he left Allyn crying in their shared room, curled up in the closet, running their fingers over the names that Jameson carved into the wall there.

He lost control, for just a minute, of where he was and who was with him, and now…

He’s safer with the collar on.

He’s safer, controlled.

They were right - he can’t do this on his own, and he never could. 

“You can choose whichever room you like, except that I keep Chris’s room for when he stays over just the same, so not that one. But there’s another three bedrooms you can use.” Nat smiles at him, moving to the stairs and gesturing for him to follow.

They creak under his feet, and the house is speaking to him, whispering here, you’re here, you’re here now in bursts of smoke on his tongue and sweet just after. He licks at his lips, looking down at ancient brown carpeting there, almost long enough to be shag.

For just a second, he sees a flicker of a bright red shag carpet in a large shared loft bedroom, a face very like his own but older, laughing as they threw balled up pieces of paper at each other. Sparkling brown eyes-

Gone-

Jameson shivers and the moment is lost, and he lets it go happily. Whatever happened to him, he has too many other problems right now to dwell on something he’s already chosen to leave behind. 

“I’ll take, uh, whichever-... whichever room is closest to the bathroom,” He says, seeing an open door with the telltale tile floor and pale painted walls. She nods, gesturing to a closed door on her left. He pushes open the bathroom door and just stares, for a few long beats. “You have-... dinosaur shower curtains?”

“Oh, Chris loved that,” Nat says, looking over his shoulder briefly. She’s as short as he is, more or less, and somehow her leaning over behind him doesn’t feel quite as unsettling as when Jake Stanton does it, or anyone else.

Shit, maybe they’re all right. Maybe he’ll be safe here… and everyone else will be safe from him.

“I just kept them after he moved out. We can get new ones if they bother you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, no, they’re… they’re fine. I’m going to-... put my stuff down now.” Jameson backs up and she moves away to give him space. The floor creaks softly underfoot as he moves along the hardwood in the hallway, to the closed door of the room he’s chosen sight-unseen.

When he opens it, it’s plain. Just pale walls and two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, side tables with lamps, blankets and pillows. A single framed portrait of a bird on one wall. 

He looks out the window to the branches of a tree outside.

“I’m going to go downstairs and make some coffee. Want me to call for you when it’s ready?” She speaks from the doorway, calm and quiet. He loves her hot chocolate voice.

“Sure. I could… I could use some fucking coffee,” He whispers, without looking back.

“No doubt. We’ll figure this out, Jameson, I promise.” 

Before she can close the door, he asks, all at once in a rush, “What if I do it again?”

She’s quiet, for a minute. Quiet for long enough his heart starts to pound, he starts to wonder if she’ll lock him in the room, or even kick him back out and tell him to start walking and figure it out on his own. He can’t go back - the last time he was on the streets, he got picked up by Robert, the time before that by Brute. His pulse beats against his collar, and he’s safe with the collar, but only if he’s kept by someone who takes care of him, who won’t hurt him worse. “To Jake?”

“Or… or Allyn. Or you, or-... fuck, anybody. What if they-... made me so I’ll do it again?”

More quiet. He hates the quiet. He wants her hot chocolate voice back. He turns, finally, to see her looking him over with a calm that goes so far beyond his own anxiety and fear, a steady surety that makes her seem more like she’s part of the house than someone who simply lives here.

She’s seen a hundred hands, too, learning not to hurt or be hurt. She’s heard a hundred voices learning to speak up, remembering how to do something other than beg for it to stop. Maybe she is the safehouse, and the building is just… an extension.

He can kind of see why the big guy likes her so fucking much.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to give you the tools you need to keep yourself and everyone around you safe.” She smiles at him, a little, lifting the corner of her mouth just the slightest bit on one side. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t be simple, or immediate. But you aren’t irredeemable, Jameson. Even if you fucked up. Does it help if I tell you I’ve had others hit me, or grab at me, when they’re in a panic and forget where they are?”

He breathes, shallow but slow. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. A half-dozen or so. I caught Chris lost in a nightmare once and he cracked me across the face with his forehead so hard I had a bruise for a week. I’ve been kicked, I’ve been hit.” She exhales, not quite a sigh, and steps inside the bedroom, moving over to one of the beds and sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back, resting her weight on her hands. “I ended up in the ER with a concussion once, early on. One of the ones I lost.” She looks away from him, and he sees the wrinkles in her face suddenly settle deeper, as if the weight of that old grief ages her even now. “He didn’t mean to, the poor guy. He was so scared, but I couldn’t-... I couldn’t keep him. He was so scared of himself he went back to his captor. Never saw him again.”

Jameson takes one step towards her, and then another. It’s unconscious, and he tells himself not to, but he can’t help it. “I’m-... I’m sorry for him.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope he’s doing all right, but… I suspect not. It’s… it’s hard, Jameson, to do this, and sometimes the hard feels like it’s never going to end. Sometimes, they think there’s no choice, no other way.” She looks up at him, and he sees the faintest glimmer of tears that don’t show in her voice, don’t fall down her face. “You’re thinking that, too. That maybe you were better off kept.”

The echo of his own thoughts in her low husky voice sends him reeling, and he can’t find his voice to speak at first. Finally, he manages, “Y-yeah.”

“It’s a lie. I understand why it feels like-... it’s inevitable. But I want you to know... I’ve seen this before. And you’re still better off healing than being sent back to shatter. We’re going to help you, and Kauri-... Kauri’s right, I think. You’ll be safer here for a while, and then you’ll go back and be safe there, too.”

“What if I’m not? Safer there?”

Nat Yoder’s smile softens, and she holds out her hands. She must expect him to sit next to her, because she jumps in surprise when he drops to his knees instead, and lays his head on her thighs, across her lap, feeling the rough denim of her blue jeans against his cheek.

Her hands hover, and then slowly she lowers one, and rests it, gently, over his hair. 

“Then you’ll be safe here,” She says, and her voice pours over him, honeyed, deep, the hint of cinnamon and the texture of the thick liquid of his grandmother’s hot chocolate, made always with whole milk and a touch of cream.

Jameson doesn’t question the knowledge of how his grandmother made hot chocolate, and he doesn’t push it away. He just lets it exist, there and then gone a moment later. 

 “For how long?” Her fingers press just slightly against his temple. Her fingertips are slightly roughened, calloused from hard work. “How l-long am I safe here?”

“The same amount of time I give everyone, Jameson,” She says. “As long as you need.”

“But you said-... you don’t take in anyone anymore-”

“I’m making an exception, and I don’t do anything halfway.” She leans over, and he feels her shadow fall over him. He turns his face to press against her leg, feeling the tears start to well, clenching his eyes shut only to have them fall without his consent, to dampen her jeans.

He shudders. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him-... I thought he was Brute, coming b-back, I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“I know I sh-shouldn’t fucking cry-... I’m the ass-asshole who stabbed him, I shouldn’t c-cry about it, I shouldn’t-” He hitches back a sob, feels his collar catch on his Adam’s apple. It’s not enough to keep him safe. It was never enough to keep him safe. 

Her voice washes warm over him, and she runs her hand through his short hair, over the filled-in bald spots shorter than the rest. “You should, if you need to. Go ahead.”

Somehow, once she says he can, he can’t stop himself at all. 

Jameson kneels on the floor in a house that has seen a hundred or more people exactly like him, his body wracked with guilt and horror at what he did, what they made him, and his terror that he can’t ever take it back, that he can’t become anything other than what he was made to be.

And through the tears, she keeps one hand on his head, and when he starts to talk to her, she listens. 

Outside a bird sings, a mourning dove, calling hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

[newtonsheffield]

Oookiaaaayy

I’m here cause I want to once again tell you I’m in awe of your skill in writing. I read your latest chapter of the Anthony met Kate AU and OMG you’re such an incredible writer WOW! Like you didn’t have to put them together in the scene and it still somehow felt so wonderful to read and literally captured everything!

So, first off, thank youuuuu!!! 🤍💫

Also, can we see a little more of loopy Kate after your last week’s Drabble? Maybe during a cold, or high on meds or however you want to show it? SSDU or BSCU - any AU would work!

I’d die tbh!

Ohhhh

Sweet boi Anthony who is standing sweating in front of Mary like “I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER AND I’M VERY SORRY THAT I ONLY HAVE MY UNDYING LOVE AND SUPPORT TO OFFER HER AT THIS TIME!”

And Mary’s just like “I get it, Kate’s great, but bloody hell, you have got to calm down!”

Okay, okay, okay, let’s see Edwina react to Kate little morphine trippppp before Anthony got there

The moment Edwina had seen Kate walk into the living room she’d known something was wrong. Kate looked… awful honestly, her face pinched and pale, a slight sweat on her brow.

“Katie… is everything okay?” Their mum said gently worry leaking into her voice, and Edwina could feel anxiety pooling in her own stomach as Kate collapsed on a stool with a soft whine.

“I just… don’t feel so great. I was kind of sick this morning and a feel warm and… I don’t know.” Kate said disjointedly, as their mother fussed around her.

“I’m going to get the thermometer.” She tutted, sweeping from the room.

“I hate to say it, Kate, but you don’t look great.” Edwina said quietly, anxiety still clawing at her chest. Kate winced putting her head down on the countertop. “I’m surprised Anthony let you leave the house.”

“I didn’t feel that bad when I left. And I… I don’t know I thought it was something else until my stomach starting hurting.” Kate said, Edwina’s stomach jolting.

“Did you Think you were-?” She asked a little surprised. Kate nodded, her arms clutching at her stomach now, eyes darting around uncomfortably. “And how would we feel about that?” Edwina asked softly, her mind racing.

“I don’t- not mad- guess it doesn’t matter.” She whined, clearly trying to distract herself as Their Mum came back, tutting as she took her temperature, concern etched on her face.

“You’re very warm, Katie.”

“I’m fine Mary.” Kate said trying to sit up straighter, to brush off their concern.

“She said her stomach hurts.” Edwina said, ignoring Kate’s murderous look.

“Katie… I think we should go to A&E. You might have appendicitis sweetheart.”

And Kate had, of course, been stubborn, and refused, until she couldn’t anymore, until she’d slumped in her seat and Edwina had done something a little low and begged her, with tears in her eyes.

“Can you… um can you call Anthony for me?” Kate had said, her eyes darting around the car nervously as they arrived at the hospital.

They waited nervously, anxiety clawing at her chest and Edwina hated she almost felt a little relieved when the doctor sighed, injected Kate with Morphine and said the surgical team would be in shortly.

“I don’t think anything is happening.” Kate said a little awkwardly under their mother’s intense stare, her fingers running through her hair. And then almost as quickly, she turned towards Edwina her eyes wide and said,

“Hey Eddie?” Kate said curiously. Edwina raised her eyebrows suddenly a little unsure she wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes, Kate?”

“Do you like shower sex?” Edwina felt her mouth drop open in surprise, a small squeak leaving her mouth. Her mother beside her looking more than gobsmacked.

“Anthony does, and it does feel pretty nice.” Kate said her eyes glazing a little and still Edwina couldn’t speak. It wasn’t that she disagreed, she just wasn’t going to announce it for her obviously very high sister and Mother.

“I… don’t really have an opinion, Kate.” Edwina ground out when Kate continued to look expectantly at her.Kate tutted disappointedly.

“What about when he’s laying back and you’re kind of on top but facing-” Kate said her hands motioning a little crudely, and Edwina could feel her cheeks burning, even more so when their mother burst out laughing.

“Mum! Please!” Edwina hissed.

“Eddie!” Kate groaned, “Why don’t you want to talk to me?! We always talk about this!”

“No we don’t!” Edwina practically shouted, hoping the ground would swallow her whole as she turned towards her Mum. “We don’t!”

“We do! You told me about that time you-”

“No!” Edwina cut across her, darting from the room as her mother’s laughter following her down the ward.

And then thank fully she heard a very panicked voice she recognised.

“My wife was brought in but her mother a little while ago? Kate Sheffield!”

And Edwina could have kissed him herself because honestly, she felt Anthony deserved to be embarrassed a little more than she did. Wife indeed.

[bruhlsbees]

paradox burning ; 3/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

gif credit to @/guillermodltoro

summary: the domino effect begins, schmidt and reader are thrown into hot water, mundy's arms shows up at the worst time

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

word count: 7,502

warnings: major character death (no not reader or ernst), spoilers for the cloverfield paradox, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, dick riding, yeah yeah y'all know what this shit about to be, minors dni, 18+, nsfw

a/n: we are almost done with the series!!!! figured i'd throw in a good smut scene before the angst of the ending - if you haven't heard already there will be a sequel to this (and yes it will be around 13 chapters) hope you enjoy!!!

translations (god i hope these are right):

Желим те - I want you, Волим те - I love you

Watching the clock, you waited until the hour hand clicked in place, the new hour beginning. You had been waiting in your room now for an hour, calming down before deciding that enough was enough and you had work to do. You wouldn’t be sitting in your room for the rest of your time aboard the station. Damn the Commander and damn anyone who thought differently.

Standing up from your bed, you didn’t bother with putting your suit back on as you made your way out of your room, down the hall, and back towards the medbay. Inside was Acosta who seemed to be taking a break from the woman in the wall and working on inventory. You walked in the room, watching as he looked up from his clipboard and towards you, his expression falling.

“Hey, you know the-”

“Acosta, please...I’m fine,” You shrugged and made your way over to the gloves, pulling a pair out before putting them on, “I did what the Commander told me to do and cooled off, I’m not just going to sit in my room forever.”

Acosta didn’t want to be the one to admit it, but he agreed with the Commander. Your mental state was failing the longer you were on board the Cloverfield Station - at this point it was only a guessing game as to when you would snap like Volkov or Schmidt. But Acosta cared for you, looked at you as if you were family, he was worried, but he knew how to talk with you about it.

“Yes, you cooled off...but how are you feeling still?” You opened your mouth to speak before catching Acosta turn and look over his shoulder, “Don’t lie to me, I am a doctor after all.”

You smiled at his joke, rolling your eyes before you sat up on the examination table, shrugging your shoulders. “Honestly? Not great.” Nodding, Acosta turned now and made his way to the examination table you were sitting on, leaning against it beside you.

“I know...you know, when I was looking over files to see who would be a good fit for the medical bay with me, you were always my top choice,” The confession surprised you, your gaze looking over at him as he smiled and nodded, “It’s true...I was always impressed with your work. When the Commander told me about your psychological evaluation and your low score, I didn’t care. You’re a great nurse and that’s what I care about.”

You could feel your eyes watering, but you didn’t care if Acosta saw you cry - it was Acosta after all. The words of encouragement were ones you had heard before, but coming from him, someone who had mentored you the past two years, it meant more than anything.

“We all have our faults, that doesn’t make us bad...what makes us bad is living by those faults and letting that define you.” Feeling his hand on your shoulder, you leaned into his touch before falling into a hug, wrapping your arms around his middle as he did the same to you, holding you close.

He smelled of warmth, bay rum, a father’s embrace. Acosta reminded you deeply of your own father - caring, quiet, and yet at the same time so full of knowledge that his mind alone could make up for the lack of his own words. He knew what to say and when to say it.

Pulling away, your hands rested on his back while you stared at him, smiling before closing your eyes as he leaned it, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Don’t let the bad thoughts take away from all that you’ve achieved. You’ve done so much just to let your own mind take that away from you.”

Nodding, you brought your knuckles to your eyes and swiped away the tears, letting out a sigh as your mind lulled, your brain desperately trying to focus on what Acosta was saying.

Think of the good stuff, think of what is true.

Looking up, the corners of your mouth twitched as you stared at Acosta. You nodded once, thanking him before watching him pat your knee and get up to go and continue on with his work. You kept your seat on the examination table before getting up to join Acosta in taking marks on inventory.

As you went to open the cabinet that had the medicine for common colds, the doors to the med bay whooshed open, Schmidt and Tam stumbling in with Volkov in their arms. Setting the clipboard down, you rushed over to the examination table that Volkov was now on.

“How long has he been like this?” Acosta asked, pulling out his small light to look over Volkov’s eyes, “What happened?”

“He tried to kill us!” Schmidt rushed, catching his breath as he stood at the end of the examination table beside Tam, motioning towards Volkov as he stayed unconscious on the table. It was the Commander, who must have followed them in, that spoke up next.

“Tam? Why do you have a gun?” He demanded. You hadn’t noticed until you finally looked at Tam, seeing the gun that was

When Tam explained that he had approached them on the X-Deck, threatened them with it, your heart sank. You looked over at Schmidt, a worried expression glazed over your eyes while he shook his head, silently telling you that it was fine and that he would tell you about it later.

“Just lock it away, Tam!” At this point, Mundy and Hamilton were joining the rest of the crew in the medbay, watching as Acosta and yourself looked over Volkov. While Acosta used his flashlight to look down his throat, you pressed your fingers to his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

You tried to focus on finding a pulse, moving your two fingers up and down his wrist. You figured that because he was unconscious, his pulse would be harder to find - evidently he wasn’t as unconscious as you thought to believe because when he suddenly grabbed your wrist, you let out a gasp and stepped back, tugging your wrist out of his grasp and stumbling back, the Commander caught you from falling and kept you pulled back away from Volkov who began to finally spit up blood and violently shake.

“W-What’s happening?” You found yourself asking, although nobody seemed to truly know what the hell was going on, all standing around in shock at the disturbing sight of Volkov. His convulsions grew more rapid before finally his spine snapped up, silence deafening the room as he fell down before being replaced by the sound of his flatline.

You never were a fan of Volkov, but you would be lying to yourself if you said that you were happy to see him gone in such a gruesome matter. You wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even your worst enemy, not even Volkov.

“No...no.”

Glancing to your right, you frowned at the sight of Mundy, who slowly approached the end of the examination table, looking down at Volkov. Hamilton extended her arm out to console Mundy, but then suddenly out of nowhere, Volkov was at it again, only this time it was one final blow.

The worms that came out of Volkov’s mouth was one thing, but the quantity of the slimy earthworms that erupted from him. They coaxed the floors and your feet like mud, impossible to step away from them as you, like the rest of the crew, began to stomp down on them, desperately trying to get them away and off of you.

When the worms suddenly stopped, lying now on the floor, you leaned against the wall, catching your breath after the incident that just happened. Your eyes glanced at Schmidt who was looking at Tam to see if she was okay. You smiled weakly and looked around the rest of the room, noticing that everyone else seemed to be okay as well.

“Well we found the worms.”

You didn’t know if it was Mundy’s poorly timed joke, the excessive amount of worms on the ground and the guts that were seeped into your shoes, or the horrifying sight of Volkov on the table, but something made your stomach churn, and you followed Hamilton closely as the both of you rushed out of the room, back into your quarters to throw up.

Your body hurled over the toilet, the sudden smell becoming almost unbearable. You quickly flushed the toilet before leaning back to shut the lid of the toilet seat, standing up and sitting now on the toilet while you brushed your teeth, trying your best to get the taste out of your mouth.

Leaning over the sink, you spit out the contents of your mouth, rinsing your toothbrush off before cupping your hand under the sink to collect water, bringing to your lips to intake and swish around your mouth, spitting the water out after a moment.

Making your way out of your bathroom, you wiped the beads of sweat that collected over your forehead off, leaning against the doorway to catch your breath. You kept your eyes closed, taking slow deep breaths in and gently exhaling through your mouth. You stayed this way until you heard your door open and shut.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Your attention shifted from the floor and up in front of you to Schmidt who now held you in an embrace, his hands placed on either side of your face, looking over you to make sure you were fine.

Shaking your head, you leaned forward and buried your face into his neck, hugging him tight as you began to cry.

“Volkov...I-,” You whimpered and clung to his suit tighter, “Ernst, I can’t unsee that. Even when I blink I can see him lying on that table and I don’t think I will ever get that sight out of my mind. What if that was yo-”

“But it wasn’t...it wasn’t! Hey, look at me,” He pulled your head back carefully, his thumbs running along your face as he swiped away your tears, pressing a kiss in between your brows, “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m always going to be here.”

At this point he had pulled you back into his arms, cradling your head into his neck as he rocked side to side, his right hand on the back of your head while the other rubbed your back.

“I want to go home, Schmidt...I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t!” You thought of your family, your small home in the country. You always thought you were trapped in that home, sharing a room with your younger sister until you left for school. But now that you were in space, stuck aboard the ship, you only wished to be back in your room with Mila.

Schmidt’s heart sank, wincing at the sounds of your cries and pleads to return home. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to comfort you in that moment. You couldn’t reach your family, so calling was off the table, all he could do was hold you and listen to you cry. Eventually your sobs stopped and were replaced by faint whimpers that vibrated against his neck.

“I’ll get you home. I promise, I promise you’ll see your family again. But you have to stay strong until then, okay?” Schmidt kissed the top of your head, squeezing you one more time before pulling you back to coax you into your bed, laying you down before getting in beside you.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but I want to. I don’t think Tam is in any hurry right now, and neither am I.” You were surprised to hear him put you first - you understood why he never did given your secrecy of relationship and the fact that his role on the station was so important. But even now, after everything, hearing him put you first even for just a few minutes, it made you realize just how much you were in love with him.

You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, cradling his head now close to you as you laid with him. Your fingers running through his hair while his ran along your waist under your shirt. If it weren’t for how exhausted you were, you would have asked him how he was doing.

He wasn’t surprised to see you fall asleep so quickly, given how startling things were today for you. While he watched you sleep, holding onto him as if he were your teddy bear, he knew that he would need to leave you to go and get some work done. Schmidt didn’t want to, but he knew that he had to.

Gently pulling your hands away from him, he moved out from the bed and laid your arms down, watching as you shifted your position to your other side, your back facing him as you now faced the wall. Schmidt smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before tucking you in, standing back up to turn and exit your room.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Evidently you needed sleep. You had hardly done anything that day, but given the circumstances of what went down with Volkov, all you wanted to do was sleep off that nightmare. You were only slightly disappointed to see that Schmidt was no longer with you, assuming that he was back up on the X-Deck with Tam.

Rolling into the pillow beside you, you pressed your face into it, letting out a sigh before intaking the faint scent of Schmidt that lingered onto the pillow from his time sleeping in your room. He smelled like home - happiness, love, and your mother’s baked goods.

Mama, she would love Ernst.

You knew that you needed to stop dwelling on your family. The lost communication signal and being so far away from Earth should have motivated you to want to help more, but instead it made you scared - your mind fleeting instead of fighting.

When the doors to your room opened, the light footsteps rushed in, cutting you off from your thoughts, you frowned and moved your head up from the pillow, your glare softening once you saw Tam.

“Tam? What are you-”

“It’s Schmidt!” She rushed, pointing towards the door. She began talking so fast that you could hardly make out what she was saying.

“Slow down, Tam, what are you saying?” You focused on her words slowly, trying your best to make out what she was telling you in Mandarian before you finally made out what she was telling you. The Commander had taken Schmidt to the airlock; apparently Jensen, the woman from the wall, was accusing him of working with German Intelligence to keep the Shepard offline.

Shooting up from your bed, you shook your head and got up, making your way towards Tam, “No, no that’s not true. Schmidt wouldn’t do that.” Tam nodded her head and sighed, of course she knew that - anyone who had a brain on board knew that Schmidt wasn’t the enemy. Sure he had his moments where his anger got the best of him, making it hard to see how he was any different from Volkov, but he was different, he was good and he wouldn’t betray you like that.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you had to see him. Excusing yourself from your room, you quickly rushed out and down the hall, making your way towards the airlock that was on the other side. Weaving through the halls, you cut the corners sharp, trying to not get caught by anyone and get down to him as quickly as you could.

Finally, after what felt like a dozen mazes you had gone through, you finally reached the airlock. Making your way up to the door, arms crossed with a frown on your face, you watched Schmidt raise his head from his knees, squinting towards you before rolling his eyes, looking the other way.

“Whatever it is you’re here to lecture me on, I’ve heard it already.”

You weren’t surprised by his irritated remark - hell, if you were thrown in isolation, you’d be pretty pissed too. Your mouth twitched into a smile before you shook your head, leaning against the small opening of the door, your forehead pressed against the glass.

“Do you always have to see me as the enemy? Even now, I think it’s safe to say that I’m here as a friend.” You explained, watching as his head slowly turned back towards you, his body language seeming to calm down.

“Just a friend?” He questioned, his own smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

You smiled and shook your head, your eyes gazing as he stood up and made his way towards the door, leaning forward to mimic your stance, his forehead pressed where your’s would be on the glass.

“More than a friend.” You finally answered, your fingers coming up to rest against the glass, running down where his face sat behind the glass. God you wished you were there with him, to hold him and feel his warm skin against your own.

His fingers raised up to the glass, pressing down where yours sat on the other side, a sigh escaping him - the glass in front of his mouth fogging over.

“I don’t believe them, you know. I know whatever Jensen said was a lie. You wouldn’t do that, Ernst. You’re better than that.” His mouth twitched into a smile and nodded, pulling away from the glass after a moment. He took a step back and stared at you, watching as you frowned, head tilted to the side.

“I wouldn’t say I’m better than that. Now you’re just making me sound like the good guy.” He noted, crossing his arms over his chest. You matched his posture, growing a little annoyed at the sudden lack of faith in himself.

“And aren’t you? You expect me to believe that this was expected of you?” You laughed and shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, “You’re insufferable, you know that? Can’t ever just believe in yourself can you? Always have to live up to what others think of you.”

“Can you blame me? I think it’s fair to say that I’ve had enough and tha-”

“And what?!” You snapped, cutting him off. You dropped your head down for a moment to catch your breath, looking back up at him after a moment. “How do you think I see you? Like the others?”

You took a step towards the window again, staring him down.

“You know what I see? A man who is too stubborn for his own good, who thinks that arguing with everyone to prove a point will get him anywhere,” You paused when you saw his head drop, standing like a child who knows he did something wrong. “I see someone who is too scared to ask someone to just believe them because you’re afraid that nobody will.”

Stopping, you took a deep breath before continuing, “But I also see someone who smart, funny despite your poorly executed jokes, and someone that I lov-”

You cut yourself off quick before the word could come out. Mouth gaped open in shock, you stared ahead at Schmidt who was equally shocked, his head snapped up and staring at you. The tears were now falling from your cheeks, face even redder than before as you shook your head, taking a step back as he took one forward.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“No, wait!”

But you didn’t listen to him. You ignored his pleads for you to come back, to finish what you were about to say. Your chest tightened, your heart hurting as you left the hall, flinching every time his scream for you became louder until finally there was nothing.

When you finally managed to escape the embarrassment of confessing your love at the worst time, you realized that you were down by the medbay. You were pleased to see that Acosta was in there, continuing to work on taking inventory in - the last thing you wanted to be right now was alone.

As you headed inside, his attention pulled from his clipboard and towards you, a weak smile on his face, “You okay?” He asked, noticing your clear discomfort. To him he only knew of Volkov, and how you ran out of the room at the sight of him throwing up the worms, he didn’t know that you were on the brink of tears from your moment with Schmidt.

“I-I think so...maybe, I don’t know,” You sighed and immediately went to work, trying to distract yourself, “I just think everything is finally getting to me. Seeing Volkov like that...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even-” You paused and took a deep breath, closing your eyes before shaking your head.

“It makes you really understand death, how it can come out of nowhere and take anyone, right in front of you,” Your mind went to Schmidt, your family, the rest of the crew on board. Dying was one thing, but to die so horrible and unexpected, that was an entirely different kind of pain. “It makes you wonder about him, what his family must be thinking - if he had any.”

Acosta turned and looked at you, frowning as your back turned to him, continuing to work on your own inventory sheet, “If you live everyday dwelling on the idea of death, you won’t ever enjoy life…” His words paused your work, looking up from the clipboard and turning slightly over to him, watching as he approached you, “What is it that you’re afraid of?”

It took you back, the question. What were you afraid of? Well you were scared of many things - spiders, the dark, and frogs ever since your brother decided to cover you in them when you went camping. But those were silly fears, ones that didn’t eat you away. What you were so afraid of, was losing all your loved ones, to be alone.

“I’m afraid of-” You words fell silent, your breath hitching to your throat as you looked around, finding the confession silly now, “I’m afraid that once we leave the station, I won’t see anyone again. That Ernst will go back home and all of this, all of this was just because of the circumstances we were in.”

And then it hit you - why you were so afraid to tell him. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed or in doubt, you were afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same, that when you told him whatever you two had built over your time on the station would disappear in a flash.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Acosta took the napkin in his pocket and dabbed your cheeks. A weak laugh escaped from you as you shook your head, “It feels like everyday I’m crying more and more.”

“You’re human, crying is normal,” Pulling away from you, he threw the napkin in the trash as your tears soaked through it, leaving it thin and tattered. “Don’t ever apologize for showing emotions. God only knows we could show a little more around here.”

You smiled and shook your head, “You could say that aga-”

But before he could, the medbay doors opened and the Commander came rushing in, his face contorted into a scowl when he locked eyes on you. Did he catch you going down to see Schmidt? What did you do now?

“Commander, is there something we can help you wit-”

“Monk, I need you to be honest with me,” The Commander began, his gaze still locked on you, “How often is she down here alone? What does she do when you’re not here?”

Acosta took a step back, baffled at the questions that the Commander was asking him. Was he trying to accuse you of something?

“Commander, I don’t know what you’re trying to go on about, but if you’re accusing her of doing something I would like to know what it is-”

“We have reason to believe that she is stashing medicine away to take back with her when we land as part of the ongoing alliance with Germany against Russia.”

The laugh that escaped from you did not help your case, but what in the actual fuck was the Commander on? Reason to believe? Who was feeding him this bullshit?

“Commander, this is ridiculous! Why would I be stealing medicine? You know that I wouldn’t do anything to harm anyone on this ship,” You were taken back when the Commander walked over to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you with him, “What are you- let me go!” You cried, desperately trying to pull away.

Acosta attempted to grab you, but quickly stopped when the Commander turned around, “No, Monk! I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not risking another life on board this ship. Until we get back, her and Schmidt stay locked up. If Jensen is right, then we need them to be kept awa-”

“Jensen? The woman from the wall? That’s who is telling you this? Where is your integrity, Commander, if you can’t even trust your own crew?”

The Commander’s eyes fell to you, staring at you for a moment. Inside he knew that it was wrong of him to be so hostile towards his crew, but after everything that happened, he didn’t want to take any chances. He shook his head and kept silent, pulling you with him out of the medbay and down the hall.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The blow to the floor knocked the wind from you - rolling to your side, you groaned and laid your palms flat on the ground before pushing yourself up, catching your balance before staring at the Commander through the small window of the airlock.

“Commander, you know this is ridiculous!” You yelled, watching as he shook his head and waved you off. Scoffing, you threw your hands up in defeat before taking a step closer to the door. “You’re going to believe Jensen? The woman who came out of the wall? Someone who is from a different dimension? Over your own team-”

“Enough!” The Commander roared and you cowered back, stopping in your tracks by Schmidt who was behind you, his hand on your back to keep you from tumbling back.

Letting out a sigh, straightening up, the Commander shook his head, almost in a disappointed way. “We trusted you both, for two years. Two years we saw you as our friends and just to find this? Messages to Germany and Serbia on complying with orders to keep the Shepard offline? To steal medical supplies for your own good?” The Commander paused and looked over the two of you carefully, his eyebrows bunched together.

“We trusted you...and you betrayed us. You’re going to sit here until we get back to base and then you’re going to explain to everyone why you did what you did.”

Before you could get a word out, the Commander was already turned and heading down the hall, leaving you and Schmidt in the airlock. You let out a sigh and felt your shoulders sink before dropping your head down into your hands, hiding your face in case you needed to cry.

Schmidt, while doing his best to comfort you, was still confused by earlier when you stopped by to see him when he was first thrown in isolation. The two of you hardly argued the way you did and his mind was still racing on what you were going to tell him. Of course he had an idea, but he wanted to hear it from you - he didn’t want the assumption.

“What happ-”

“What do you think happened, Schmidt? That bitch from the wall has everyone convinced now that I’m part of whatever scheme they think you’re on!” You shoved yourself away from him, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned your back to him, seething in your own anger.

He wasn’t taken back by your outburst, that he had come to face before, but took him back was his name - his last name to be exact. You never called him Schmidt unless you were absolutely pissed beyond pissed, it was always Ernst.

Catching your arm, Schmidt tugged you back to face him, a glare casted over his own face, matching yours. You went to push him off you again but he caught your wrist, tightening his grip around both wrists now as he pushed you against the wall, pining you in place.

“I’m not the enemy here, remember?” Pinned to the wall, your hands beside either side of your head, you glared and moved your foot up, gently kicking him back until he stumbled away, giving you the opportunity to dominate him, grabbing his waist and tugging him down until he was pinned onto the floor under you. With your hands on his wrists, pinning them above his head, you sat on his lap, looking down at him.

“I remember, but right now, you’re being a real pain in my ass.”

As the two of you huffed, glaring at one another, it was you who finally made a move, leaning forward and kissing him deeply, his hands instantly breaking out of your grasp and coming to your head, holding you close as the two of you kissed.

His neck strained as he leaned up to kiss you, soon growing tired of the burning in his neck and sitting up fully, moving your legs to wrap around his waist as you continued to kiss. You became needy quickly, unzipping his suit to push down until it settled at his waist, the shirt under his suit coming off just as fast as your own shirt did.

In the moment that led up to you sitting in the airlock undressed, on Schmidt’s lap, you all but forgot your surroundings, realizing just how exposed you were to anyone who wanted to come near the room.

“Schmidt, wait, someone is going to-”

“Nobody is going to see us. Someone will hear us if you don’t keep quiet.” He insisted, his mouth open as he tried to catch his breath. His suit was around his knees, shirt discarded with the rest of your clothes while you hovered over his dick naked. Schmidt did prefer the comfort of your room to fuck you in, but in the heated moment the two of you shared, pissed at the world around you and deciding to take it out on each other, this would do.

Blushing at his words, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodding, doing your best to keep quiet while you rested your knees on his thighs, feeling him guide himself into you, his free hand coming to grab your waist, moving you to settle down on his dick. Your head fell back as you moaned, clinging to his shoulders while your hips rocked down onto him, Schmidt’s head falling forward into your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts before nipping at the skin of your neck and jaw.

“You’re so beautiful...how did I get so lucky?” He murmured, pressing wet kisses up your neck before finally looking into your eyes. Your gaze was locked on Schmidt’s as you continued to ride him, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck, forehead pressed against his as you raised up and sank back down onto his dick.

“Shh, don’t, don’t say that,” You whimpered at his words, closing your eyes tightly. You didn’t know why you were getting overemotional, but his words were so soft compared to how rough he was thrusting up into you - it didn’t hurt, but it didn’t match the tone of his words. “Please, Schmidt, just fuck me.”

And he did. He kept his grip locked down on your hips as he guided you up and down his dick, the sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing the room. You couldn’t bite your moans back any longer and pressed your lips to his shoulder, moaning into his skin to muffle you. His lips found your own shoulder, biting and sucking dark bruises into your skin, his pace quickening as he felt you tighten around him.

“Желим те, please Schmidt, oh, plea-”

“What? What do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, liebling.” You whined at his words and felt your core tighten, locking in place sunken onto his dick while he gasped, his fingers digging into your ass that was in his lap.

“I want you, Schmidt,” You weren’t quite at your peak just yet, but you were getting close. Schmidt, on the other hand, wasn’t going to let you quit now. Tugging your head back by your hair, he stared up at you, smirking to himself at the sight of you.

“Not yet,” He warned, one hand in your hair, the other around your waist. He needed to hear it from you, what you were going to tell him, “Not until you tell me what you were going to say.”

It caught you off guard, his demand. Of all the times he wanted you to think, now wasn’t the time. Casting your gaze down at him, eyebrows knitted close, you shook your head, confused.

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You whined when he thrusted up in you suddenly, trying to get you to focus, “Ernst...please...I don’t remem-”

“When you came to see me earlier - you said all those things about me, you didn’t finish the last part,” He kept his hips moving up into you, reaching his peak as he stared up at you. All he wanted to do was cum in you as you told him that you loved him, “Please...just tell me.”

He was so desperate to hear the confession. His eyes glazed over as he pressed his forehead to you, closing his eyes tightly. If you didn’t love him as much as you did, you might’ve found him to be rather pathetic at the moment.

“Волим те,” You whispered, clinging to him as your orgasm began to finally hit you. You whined and wrapped your arms around him tighter, your legs shaking as you pressed your lips to his cheek, peppering his face with kisses, “Волим те....Волим те….Волим те.”

Of course you had to say it in Serbian - the one language Schmidt still had yet to learn. Before he could beg you to tell him in English, he felt his cock twitch in you and his orgasm finally hit. With a grunt, he sank his teeth into your shoulder, panting against your skin as he came down from his high. You on the other hand, went limp against him, trying to catch your breath.

Both of you sat like that for a few moments, catching your breath while gently petting one another. Your hands running up and down his neck while his went up and down your back. When your brain finally cleared, you sat back and looked down at him, a smile on your face. Schmidt smiled back up at you, taking your face into his hands before kissing you softly.

The kiss was sweet, delicate, pure. This was the Schmidt that you knew, your Ernst - your beloved spaceman. You knew despite all his pent up anger, he was good and gentle. When you both pulled away from the kiss, his mouth fell open to speak, but was cut off by the door opening, although nobody was standing outside.

“Did you do that?” Schmidt found himself asking, staring in shock at the door. Your attention was pulled from the door and at him.

“Ernst, how could I have opened the door if I’m sitting on your dick?” You questioned. You watched his cheeks go red, his eyes glancing towards you before nodding, “Right…”

Helping you up, the two of you quickly pulled your clothes back on, smoothing your hair down to not make it so obvious that you had jumped each other's bones in the airlock. You cleared your throat and took a step forward to see what it was that let you out before coming to a sudden stop by Schmidt.

“Wait, I’ll go first. You just stay back, okay?” You knew there wasn’t time to argue. You obeyed and stayed back, lingering in the doorway of the airlock while Schmidt ventured out, the faint tapping noise picking up the farther he got out.

“Be careful!” You warned, your fingers toying with the string of your sweatpants. Your gaze kept locked on Schmidt as he continued to move down the hall, his steps soon slowing to a stop as he turned, looking down the other end of the hall. He seemed to be in shock with whatever it was that he saw.

“What? What is it-” As you made your way towards him, your own gaze went down the hall where the noise was coming from, your words cut off by your gasp at the sight of a single arm crawling down the hallway.

“Stay here, make sure it doesn’t leave!” Turning, Schmidt quickly rushed back to the door of the airlock, pressing down on the intercom to get everyone down there. “I need the whole crew on M-Deck, as fast as you can.”

Your eyes kept focused on the arm that was crawling to you, stepping back once as if it were going to jump at you. From your spot down the hall you heard the Commander ask who had let them out of the airlock, all for Schmidt to urge them to hurry.

As Schmidt made his way back towards you, standing beside you, both of you couldn’t take your eyes off the arm. It looked to be Mundy’s arm, but you weren’t sure if it was or wasn’t. Of all the things that were happening, this was by far the strangest.

It didn’t take long for the crew to make their way down to M-Deck, the rest of the crew surrounding you and Schmidt as he pointed towards the end of the hall, the arm continuing to make it’s slow approach towards you. When you looked over at Mundy who was beside you, your eyes widened at the sight of his missing arm.

Well that would explain the arm crawling around.

“We need to catch it,” Hamilton explained suddenly. She was right, you couldn’t just stand around watching it, “I’ll go get something.”

While she rushed off to find something to capture the arm, Tam and Schmidt rushed forward, grabbing it and holding it steady until Hamilton came back with a glass box, placing it over the arm to trap it.

“Be careful with it!” Mundy cried. Looking up at him, you offered an apologetic smile, “I just don’t want them to break it.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mundy.”

He winced slightly, lips pulling to a thin smile before looking back ahead as Schmidt approached Mundy. You were just as annoyed as Mundy was when Schmidt asked if he were controlling his arm.

“I’m not controlling it! It’s over there!” Mundy explained, motioning towards his arm that was kept in the box.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! Because right now I’m giving you the finger!” The two men locked eyes for a moment, as if ready to start arguing before turning back towards the arm.

“How is that alive?” You found yourself asking, crossing your arms over your chest as you took a step closer towards it, wanting to take a closer look. Before you could get too close, Schmidt pulled you back.

“Don’t get too close to it, we don’t know what-”

“It’s my bloody fucking arm, Schmidt! What else could it be?” Letting go of you, Schmidt sighed as he glanced around the room.

“One thing is clear. The overload did it. None of us believed it was real, but this is the paradox,” Of course nobody wanted to believe him, it was too out there to believe that it was real. “Particles interacting with each other across different dimensions. Two distinct realities in a multiverse...fighting to occupy the same space, creating chaos.”

Schmidt paused for a moment, catching his breath from his scientific explanation, Mundy having a seat to process everything while everyone else stayed frozen in their spots around each other.

“These aren’t the things we know...because they don’t belong to us.”

And then it began to click with everyone. Jensen, Schmidt’s communication logs, your own hidden stash of medicine that the Commander found. This wasn’t from your reality, but another.

"While another paradox is thriving, our's is burning...failing." You mumbled. You glanced over at the Commander, who looked between you and Schmidt in guilt. Of course you were still pissed at the accusation, but it seemed to finally click with him that you were telling the truth. Yes, Jensen was too, but that was in her reality, not your’s.

“Uh, guys. I think my arm is trying to write something.”

Looking over your shoulder towards Mundy’s arm that was captured, you were only slightly surprised to see that it was, in fact, trying to write something.

“Quick, somebody get a pen!” At the Commander’s order, Hamilton quickly turned and looked around for a pen, coming back with a red marker and handing it to Mundy, who gave it to his own arm.

“Oh, that’s creepy.” He groaned, stepping back to watch his arm.

As his arm began to scribble, the crew surrounded the glass cage, reading the words CUT VOLKOV OPEN.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Standing on the other side of the table that Volkov lied on. You glanced ahead at Acosta who held the knife in his hand, shaking as it hovered over Volkov’s chest. He seemed uncomfortable, not able to cut open into him. When he dropped the knife, he sighed and looked around.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

“Come on, you’re the doctor-”

“Give it to me, Acosta,” You explained, cutting Mundy off with your hand extended out in front of you. When Acosta did, you took a deep breath and looked down at Volkov. It was almost as if he were sleeping, and perhaps that’s why it took you a moment before finally cutting into him.

The knife sinking into his chest wasn’t the worst part, cutting down until you had enough to rip open. It was ripping him open that made your stomach turn. Taking a hold of either side of his opened chest, you broke open his front, trying to ignore the tearing sounds and the smell from his organs.

When the smell hit you in the face, you jolted back, your arm coming up to your face to cover your nose and mouth, gagging harshly. You shook your head as Tam came up to you, holding your hand in front of her.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” You smiled weakly at her before turning back to Volkov, exhaling through your mouth before going back in.

Your hands sank into Volkov’s organs, surprised to feel the warmth still in him. It reminded you of Thanksgiving with your family, how you always refused to stuff the turkey because you hated the feeling of the guts.

“Mama, please, I don’t want to do this, you know I hate it!” You whined, your face turned away as your hands sank into the turkey, your face going green.

“Oh just smile! I want to put this in the scrapbook!” Your mother insisted, holding a camera to your face.

You winced and peeked an eye open, “Mama!” You whined, earning a laugh from your father who sat at the table prepping the potatoes with your brother and sister.

“Come on dear, just smile once for your mother, it’ll be over before you know it.” Your father cooed, pausing his moments from slicing the potatoes to look over at you near the oven.

Groaning, you glared slightly for a moment before complying, opening your eyes and smiling weakly at the camera, watching as the flash went off before your mother grinned at you.

“Okay, I think that was enough torture for you. Go wash up and come back and you can help me with the pie.”

Ripping your hands from the turkey, you quickly rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the bathroom, the repeated “ew, ew, ew” echoing throughout the home.

You tried to not think about what you were digging through, your eyes sealed tight as your arms sank in Volkov more, elbows deep before finally feeling something. It felt cold, sphere shaped, something that clearly didn’t belong inside of someone’s organs.

“I found something!” You exclaimed, gripping onto whatever you caught and slowly pulling it out of Volkov. When you stood up straight, holding out what you found, you nearly dropped it in shock. It was the gyro.

The missing gyro was inside Volkov.

[roberttchase]

Fluffy - comfort for brettsey 🥰

This...got away from me a bit. I didn't mean for it to get long, but I'm a big comfort fan. This is set late season 8, when the pining was intense. Enjoy 2k of sick, soft Matt and overly worried Sylvie.

“Has anyone seen Casey?”

Herrmann shakes his head from where he’s talking to Mouch about an idea for Molly’s. When Sylvie gets a head shake from both Ritter and Gallo, she sighs, not sure what else to do. She’s looked everywhere- his office, Severide’s office, the locker room, his rig, the common room. He’s nowhere to be found. Grabbing water from the fridge, the paramedic huffs and heads back to the bunk room, when she collides with Stella in the doorway.

“Woah! What’s up?”

Looking up, the blonde meets her best friend's eyes. “Have you seen Matt anywhere?”

Stella cocks an eyebrow and tilts her head a bit, a smug look overtaking her features.

“What?”

“Nothin’ just...I may have seen Matt somewhere,” her tone is teasing, and Sylvie wrinkles her nose at how foreign it sounds for the firefighter to say the mans first name.

“If you have something you want to say…” Sylvie inclines her head towards the other woman, who smirks.

“Nope,” Stella pops the end of the word, then rolls her eyes. “Last I saw, Casey was heading towards the turnout room to see what jackets needed to be ordered.”

“Thank you.” Sylvie turns before she can get another word in about her and Matt, and heads out to the apparatus floor. Moving past the squad table, she half heads Tony and Capp talking about some movie, but her head is mostly focused on finding the Captain, wanting to tell him about the good phone call she’d had with Amelia and Scott the night prior. Taking a left into the turnout room, she pauses when she sees the person she’s been searching for.

Matt’s leaning against the wall, clipboard loosely in his hand, head tilted back, eyes shut. He looks tired, like he’s purposely chosen this room to be in so the chaos of the rest of the firehouse can’t touch him. She debates on turning and leaving, letting him have some time alone that he clearly needs, but then she’s brought back from her thoughts when Matt makes a noise.

“Hey, sorry. Got lost in thought. Fancy meeting you here.” Though he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual, and Sylvie’s already letting her eyes sweep over him, checking to make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.

“It’s okay, I can go and let you have some alone time.” She says it lightly, as if to be joking, but she’s serious. She doesn’t want to keep him if he needs to decompress- they’ve all been there- even if she hasn’t heard of any bad calls for truck today.

“No, it’s fine, like I said, lost in thought,” he clears his throat and stands up straighter. Sylvie swears she can almost physically see him put on his Captain persona. She hates it, hates that he can’t just be himself, even if she does understand it. She’s the paramedic in charge, which means she’s responsible for her and Foster. Matt’s responsible for the whole house.

Taking a breath in, Sylvie’s about to start telling him how her phone call went,  but she’s cut off when Matt coughs. The firefighter ducks his head away and into his arm, letting the coughs come as quietly as it sounds he can manage, finally straightening back up and clearing his throat again.

“I’m sorry.” He’s blushing, Sylvie notices, which is kind of adorable.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know you can talk to me Matt.” She reaches her hand out and puts it on his shoulder, their eyes meeting. She tries again. “What’s going on?”

Matt hesitates, swallowing, and then rubs at the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze, eyes snapping down. “I’m just….I don’t….” She gives him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder as he tries to explain. “I didn’t really sleep well last night. Guess it’s just catching up to me is all. Don’t feel all that great. But it’s fine.”

Oh. Without thinking, she moves closer, her hand moving from his shoulder upwards, palm gently connecting with his forehead. It’s warmer than it should be. Frowning, she notices his eyes have shut at the contact, and he looks younger. Matt’s eyes flutter back open when she moves her hand.

“Come on…” Sylvie jerks her head towards the door, walking through it, knowing Matt will follow. Sure enough, he does, even if he looks confused as he trails after her and into the ambo when she opens the back doors. “Sit.”

She almost laughs when he sits on the bench to the side immediately. Turning, the paramedic rummages through one drawer, and then another until she finds the small, white, plastic instrument. “Put this under your tongue.”

“Bossy...Sylvie, this is silly, I’m f-“

“If you say you’re fine, Matt Casey…” she trails off and lowers her stare at him. Slowly, he takes the thermometer she’s holding out of him, a little plastic cover on the tip, and guides it under his tongue. As they wait, Sylvie’s struck with how young and vulnerable he looks. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sick before, or if she has, it’s been when he’s hiding it.

After another fourteen quiet seconds, the shrill repetitive beep sounds, and Matt takes it out, glancing at it. His shoulders sag and he lets out a breath, and it’s all the confirmation she needs to know he’s got a fever. Taking it, she looks at the little screen that’s lit up red, the numbers ‘100.5’ flashing.

“Matt.” She knows he must feel bad. Keeping her voice low, she hesitantly reaches out and brushes some hair away from his forehead. The atmosphere around them is suddenly, intensely intimate. She finds that she doesn’t mind, that it doesn’t bother her. “I’ll tell Bo-“

“No! No, I’m...I can do my job just fine Sylvie. It’s barely anything, really. I’ll be alright.”

The look Matt’s giving her makes her nod, but then she levels him with her own. “Fine. But I’m checking your temp every hour. If it hits 101 I’m telling him. That’s putting yourself and your team at risk.” She knows he wants to argue, so she goes for the low blow. Her hand is resting on his arm now, but she has no intention of moving it. If she’s honest, she has no intention of ever breaking this spell cast around them, but, as if the universe wants to tease her, the alarm goes off for ambo and squad. Of course.

“Be safe out there,” Matt says with a genuine smile this time, getting out of the rig slower than usual, as if his body aches. She’s sure it does, even if he won’t admit to it. She moves to the front, and just barely catches the look Foster gives the Captain as she jumps in. Watching the rear view mirror, she sees Matt slip into the firehouse, unnoticed with all the commotion. Maybe he’ll get some rest.

Sylvie fully intends to bring Matt back a smoothie, but while they’re on the way to the coffee shop that has the best ones in Chicago, they’re called to another company's scene to help transport another victim. By the time they’re leaving Med it’s close to ten at night, both she and Foster are tired, and the idea to bring back a smoothie isn’t even in her mind anymore.

They get back to an empty firehouse. Sylvie wonders how long they’ve been out, and after checking with one of the temps in the bullpen, it sounds like they’ve been gone a while. She hopes it’s not a bad fire, though she’s sure if it was they’d have heard about it by now over the radio or from main. Starving, the paramedic goes to root around in the fridge, but when she opens the door, she sees two covered plates with a little sticky note on top.

Saved for Brett and Foster. DO NOT TOUCH.

It’s written in Matt’s neat but scribbled handwriting, and it makes her body feel warm. Even when he’s not feeling well he’s looking out for her. As she heats the plates up, Sylvie hears the apparatus bay doors slide up, and the missing rigs park back in place. Minutes later everyone is bustling in looking exhausted.

“Bad?” Emily asks as Stella drops herself into a chair next to them at the table. When the firefighter only grunts, they both wince sympathetically.

“Not bad, but we had two back to back calls. Even if they weren’t bad, it was just…a lot.”

Matt walks in and heads straight for the bunk room, not acknowledging anyone. Sylvie watches him go, playing with her watch anxiously. Stella shrugs when they make eye contact, as if to say she doesn’t know what’s going on either. Deciding to take action, she excuses herself and grabs her plate, ignoring the looks from her friends. The paramedic follows the same path the man had, but when she gets to his quarters, she sees the door is shut, and the blinds are drawn. Worry pools in her stomach.

Quietly, Sylvie knocks, knuckles hitting glass. When she’s been standing there for almost fifteen seconds, the blonde starts to turn to leave when the door opens, revealing a disheveled Matthew Casey. His skin is just slightly paler than normal, dark circles under his eyes becoming more visible. What stands out to her is the way he’s got his right hand’s fingers pressed gingerly against where she knows his lymph node would be on his neck.

“Hi...you can come in, sorry. I just don’t have the mental capacity to deal with Severide right now.” His voice is just shy of raspy, though that could be from having to call the shots at the scenes.

Stepping inside, Sylvie sits on the mans bunk, then pats the small open area next to her, hoping to coax him onto it, and eventually get him to lay down and rest. “How’re you feeling?”

Matt freezes, then shrugs. “Like I have some silly little bug that you’re getting too worried over,” he decides, looking at her pointedly. Setting her plate in her lap, she mirrors the same gesture she had done earlier, hand going to the firefighters forehead again.

“You feel warmer. Why don’t you get some rest. You can do paperwork later, you need to get some energy back up if there’s another call,” Sylvie tries to reason with him. It’s a testament to how he must be feeling that Matt just nods. She’s about to move when he puts a hand out on her knee.

“Will you stay? Just for a little while.”

Her first instinct is to pull him into a hug and hold him close. Instead, she nods and smiles. “Mind if I eat while I’m here?”

“Of course not…” Matt shifts so that he’s lying on the bed instead of sitting. The space makes Sylvie move too, sitting next to Matt, propped against the back wall. Eating with her right hand, she reaches out her left and plays with Matt’s hair hesitantly. She pauses when he looks at her.

“No, no...you can keep...it feels nice.” The pink on his cheeks increases tenfold, and Sylvie wishes she could take a photo. Instead of responding, she merely continues the motion, and soon Matt’s asleep head falling to her shoulder.

Looking down, she tries to memorize how he looks, so young and at ease, sleep allowing him to get away from the heaviness of being a Captain. The urge to kiss his hairline is strong, but instead she continues to play with his hair, mind wandering and imagining what it would be like to get to take care of him every day, call him hers. There are worse ways to spend shift.

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: four

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.3k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, gunshot wound, kidnapping, implied drug use (marijuana)

a/n: posting an hour early :)

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Simple words, and predictable ones, but his heart still hurts. He knew this, he knew it was coming, he knew what you would say, he prepared himself for it, so why does it feel like his world is crashing down? He’s leaving you, but he guesses you’re leaving him first. The thought brings him comfort. He didn’t want to involve you in this, as much as it hurts watching you walk away. He should be thankful that you’re breaking his heart and not the other way around. He should be thankful that you’ll hopefully hold this against him for the rest of his life. He should be thankful that you will never know the cold steel of a gun, the glint of an attacker’s knife. 

You’re long gone by now, probably tucked into bed. He’s right where you left him, although he is no longer staring at the spot where you were standing. Now, he’s watching the moonlight on the water. The world looks cast in melancholy blue; a beautiful setting for his final night and a tearful goodbye.

He is thankful for this last chance to see you; to memorize your features and commit them all to memory. He is thankful for the tears on his face, as he will not be allowed to show them in the future. He is thankful for all the emotions that he is currently feeling; he savors them, knowing that when he wakes up tomorrow, they will be long gone; suppressed forever. 

---

You’re up and running before you even have the chance to fully grasp the situation at hand. There’s blood, so much blood; Miwa’s calling to you, but you can’t hear her. There’s only the pounding of your heart in your ears and the four years worth of schooling you’ve received; racking your brain for any and all useful information. 

“I need all the medical supplies you have; a first aid kit, bandages, forceps, scissors.” You pray that Miwa is listening, that your voice is projecting. “I know we probably can’t take him to the hospital, but if you have a doctor you normally see for stuff like this, call them.”

You press your hands to the wound. From what you can tell, it’s a bullet wound towards the bottom left of Kageyama’s chest. His heart is still beating and his breathing is slow, but steady, and you allow yourself a moment to be thankful that his lung hasn't collapsed. You focus on your next steps: stopping the bleeding, fully assessing the severity of the wound, and stabilizing Kageyama somewhere that isn’t the foyer’s floor. 

Miwa drops down next to you with what you hope are sterile rags. “I called our doctor, she’ll be here soon.” She unwraps the plastic covering and hands you the rags, and you press them to Kageyama’s chest. “If we can just stop the bleeding, he’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. 

---

Kageyama Tobio is used to being shot at, but the bullets rarely meet their mark. Unfortunately, due to his own stupidity, this one does. 

He curses as he runs to his car and jams the keys into the ignition. The fleeting thought that the blood will be a pain to get out of the seats crosses his mind, but he shakes his head and it’s gone. His only goal now is to get back to the penthouse. Miwa will know what to do. 

When he stumbles in, feeling faint, his exhausted brain short-circuits at the sight of you. He falls to the floor as his vision blurs, feeling slightly thankful that if he dies tonight, at least the last thing he saw was you.

---

He knows he’s dreaming, that he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. He dreams of his childhood spent by your side, he dreams of your final goodbye. Even when he thinks he’s awake, he knows he must be dreaming, because you’re here, holding his hand and sitting by his side. He tries to reach out, to brush the tears off of your cheeks, but he can’t. He feels as if he’s failed you again.

---

The doctor is nice, a woman in her late twenties named Kiyoko. She performs her duties clinically, allowing you to help where you can and reassuring Miwa that everything will be fine. When the bullet is finally removed and Kageyama is stitched up, you collapse into a chair next to his bed.

You watch him carefully as Miwa flits around the penthouse, cleaning up and moving around Kageyama’s appointments for the next few weeks to allow him time to recover. You hold his hand in your own and rest your head on the side of the bed.

You were terrified tonight, you’ll admit it. You aren’t quite sure how you kept your cool and focused on the task at hand. You’re thankful that he is still breathing, that his heart is still beating. 

If you hadn’t walked away, would this be the norm for you? Would you be accustomed to Kageyama coming home bleeding and half-dead? You don’t know how you would cope in a situation like that, unsure if Kageyama would come home in one piece or even come home at all. The thought terrifies you; knowing that for these past four years, there were times where he was injured and you had no clue, and that he will most likely continue to get hurt in the future.

Is it better or worse to be here for it, to be aware? Is it better to know and be there for him while enduring the pain of it all, or is it better to be blissfully unaware, back to your normal life where you know his job is a risk, but you aren’t involved?

---

The man is thrilled at all of the information contained in a tiny computer file. Better than he ever could have imagined; giving him the ability to hurt his enemy is the worst possible way - through the people he cares about. 

It’s a low blow, even in this world, but what can he do? He’s run out of options. His enemy’s reign over Tokyo has encroached too far into his own territory, and has been occurring for far too long. 

You’re an easy target; far better than attempting anything with his sister. She has the knowledge and power of the underworld to wield against him, but you, you, are perfect. No skills with a weapon, no comprehension of how things work in this world. 

An innocent, perfect girl for him to corrupt. 

He grins at the thought. 

---

When Kageyama’s eyes finally open in the early hours of the morning, you almost burst into tears. You knew that he was physically fine; the wound would hurt, but was stitched and bandaged and fixed. You didn’t know how it would take a toll on the rest of his body. Some people suffer traumatic injuries and don’t wake up for days, months, years, ever. 

You grin as Kageyama slowly opens his eyes, assessing the room around him. 

“Y/n?” His voice is weak, but he’s awake. Alive. 

“Yeah?” You’re still holding his hand, leaning on your arm as you reach for his forehead to check his body temperature.

“You’re here.”

He’s clearly still a little out of it, and you can tell that his brain is trying to piece together the picture of you before him. You laugh a little before you answer, “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

His face is blank and he’s completely impassive when he says, “Not here.”

Miwa walks in to you laughing at Kageyama, who clearly does not understand why you’re laughing at him. She rushes over to him when she sees that he’s awake, gently hugging him.

“Tobio, thank god you’re alright. I was so fucking worried about you, you little shit.” She slaps his shoulder lightly, causing him to wince. 

You step away to give them some privacy, heading out to get some water and pain meds from the kitchen, but as you cross the threshold of the bedroom, Kageyama speaks up. “Y/n, are you leaving?”

The ache in his voice is obvious, and it sends a pang to your heart. “I’m just going to get some water and medication for you.”

He’s smiling a little when he turns back to Miwa. “Okay, good.”

---

The next few weeks are fine, generally speaking. You spend the majority of your time at Kageyama’s penthouse, watching over his recovery and hanging out with Miwa. Hana becomes a bit suspicious when she notices you’re away from home more than you’re there, but you simply say that you met an old friend at the club that night and you’ve been hanging out with them. It’s not necessarily a lie, and she buys it regardless; she’s so busy with Ushijima and school that you doubt she really notices how much you’re missing anyway. 

Most days, Miwa or Kageyama’s driver picks you up from the university in the afternoon, and you spend the rest of your evening in the penthouse. Sometimes, you sit by Kageyama’s bed and do homework while he rests, which most of the time ends up being a fight to get him to stay in bed while he insists he’s well enough to work. Other days, mostly when Kageyama is too tired to put up much of a fight, you hang out with Miwa, watching movies or cooking dinner together. 

It surprises you, just how easily you fit into their lives. Miwa says so as well, telling you that it has to be fate; there’s no way that someone could adjust to their lifestyle as quickly and as well as you do. You spend a lot of time thinking; you don’t mind being with them, in fact, you cherish your time at the penthouse. Kageyama’s job doesn’t phase you as much anymore. You don’t think about it when you spend time with him or Miwa, instead, you think about how appreciative you are for their roles in your life. 

Most recently, you’ve started helping Miwa with a task she deems “Mission: Impossible”. Apparently, Kageyama is disastrous when it comes to organization, so she’s taking the opportunity of him being bedridden to organize his office and the rest of the house. You don’t bat an eye when you and Miwa categorize what she refers to as the “weapons closet” or even when you come across files of all the hits that Kageyama has ever put out. The only thing that even makes you pause is when you come across Kageyama’s secret stash of marijuana.

“Really?” You hold the plastic bag up in one hand, your other hand on your hip. “Blunts?”

Kageyama just groans, sitting up. “If you and Miwa weren’t going through all my shit, you never would’ve found it.”

“Your shit is a mess! When was the last time you organized anything in this house?”

Kageyama brings his hand up, scratching the back of his hand. “Uh, never?”

“I can’t believe you.” You collapse onto the chair next to his bed, tossing the bag to him. “Now where’s the lighter?”

---

When Kageyama is finally cleared by Kiyoko to go back to work, you think that you won’t be seeing him and Miwa as often. You assume that they’ll be busy with whatever it is they do normally, so it comes as a surprise when you see Kageyama waiting for you after your last class. 

He’s leaning on a black McLaren Artura, turned away from you as he talks on the phone. You stop on the steps of your lab building, pausing to look at him while he’s not paying attention. After seeing him in sweats and t-shirts with messy hair for weeks while he recovered, it shocks you to see him in formal attire again. The late fall chill embraces you as you survey the black jeans and dark jacket, the wind-whipped hair and gold chain peeking out from beneath his collar. It’s times like these when your breath fully leaves you at how attractive Kageyama is. He’s receiving many stares, whether it’s from the boys checking out his car or the girls checking out him. He remains oblivious as always, talking pointedly into the phone until he spots you. 

He hangs up and opens the Artura’s door for you when you approach. You can feel the whispers surrounding you, but you ignore them in favor of sticking your chilling fingers in front of the car’s heat vent. Kageyama starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

“I’m surprised to see you today. I thought you would’ve been busy on your first day back.”

He shrugs, giving a noncommittal hum. “It was mostly boring shit, meetings and such. I was completely over it by noon, so Miwa took over the last few for me.”

“You’re done already?” It’s only four in the afternoon, and you know he normally works much, much later than that.

“Done for now. I’ll go into the club later tonight to check on a few things, but that’s at least interesting.”

“Hm.” Looking out the window, you notice that you’re not heading towards the penthouse. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you out.”

You choke on air; as someone with Kageyama’s career, this could mean one of two things. “O-on a date?”

“Yeah,” he glances at you, “what else would that mean?”

“You don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

“Damn, y/n, I’m not going to kill you.” The wry smile on his face warns you of his upcoming words. “That would get blood on my seats.”

“Haha.” You roll your eyes and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “But really, you’re taking me out on a date? You didn’t even ask.”

“Well it’s more of a ‘thank you for nursing me back from the dead and helping Miwa’ date, but it can also be a real date, if you want that.”

The slight nervousness in his voice makes you grin. Only Kageyama could shoot someone in cold blood and be afraid to ask a girl out. “Okay.”

You watch as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile on his face. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

taglist: @lilith412426​ @itoshibaby​ @wallywaffle​ 

[skyguy-snips]

Chapter 2: Inhibitor Chips

Book 7: Battle Scars

Words: 1263

Masterlist | Taglist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

note: rex! rex! rex! rex! he was skylar's OG big brother and they're the sweetest together omg (dave can we get rex in more episodes so i can write them together again?????)

Blue and white plastoid armor. She would recognize those tally marks anywhere.

He removed his hood, looking at them with an unreadable expression. Skylar felt Echo tense beside her, his arm lowering his blaster immediately.

“... Rex?”

----------

“Oh, great. Another clone. Just what I needed,” Cid said. “Well don’t get comfy. I’m done taking in strays. This ain’t a clone clubhouse, ya know.”

She turned and walked back to her office muttering the entire way. Skylar just tuned her out, staring at the man in front of them. Hunter stepped forward, holstering his blaster as the rest of them did the same.

“Captain,” Hunter said with a nod.

“It’s been a while, boys,” Rex replied. They all stood silent for a few seconds, their minds reeling. The stillness was broken, however, when Skylar let out a sob.

All of their heads whipped around, finding Skylar with a hand over her mouth as she stared at Rex. He turned his eyes to her, posture immediately softening as he opened his arms. She took off, launching into a hug with her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she cried quietly. Rex hugged her tightly around her waist, burying his face in her neck.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” he whispered, pulling back to press a kiss to the side of her head. She stepped back a bit, wiping her face as she sniffled.

She had been with the 501st since the start, always on the bridge with General Skywalker, Commander Tano, and Captain Rex. It was her job to reign in Skywalker’s wild schemes, providing strategic planning and quick modifications during battle. When she wasn’t on the bridge, she was either planning strategies in Rex’s office or training with the boys of Torrent company. She had grown close to all of them, and they watched over her like a little sister, even if she was a higher ranking than all but Rex.

““Where have you been, Rex?” Echo asked, stepping around Skylar to pull his former Captain into a crushing hug. They pulled back after a moment, both of their eyes shiny as they fell into a keldabe, sans-helmets.

“That’s a long story.”

----------

They all sat at the bar as Rex finished explaining everything.

“And when the war ended, I guess you could say I’ve been… keeping a low profile,” Rex said.

“Very low. Imperial files have you listed as killed in action,” Tech said from the end of the bar. Skylar frowned at that, remembering stumbling across the file when she was trying to figure out what happened.

“Being dead in the Empire’s eyes has its advantages,” Rex replied. Skylar nudged his shoulder lightly with her own, Rex clinking his cup with Echo’s on his other side.

“Well, how’d you track us down?” Echo asked. Rex smiled.

“Trace and Rafa Martez. They said a squad of rogue clones helped them on Corellia,” he said, turning around on his barstool to lean forward on his knees. “They told me I could find you here. And that you were traveling with a kid. Who is she?”

“Omega. She’s a clone like us,” Hunter said from Skylar’s other side. Rex shot them a surprised look, but before he could ask any questions, there was a shout from the door.

“Well look who it is,” Wrecker laughed, running over to the group with Omega in tow. “Come here, Rex!”

Wrecker wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly as he lifted Rex off of his stool. Echo and Skylar laughed at the overwhelmed face Rex shot them.

“Yeah, good to see you too, Wrecker,” he said, voice strained.

“I thought you didn’t like the regs,” Omega said from behind Wrecker. He spun around with Rex still in his arms, and then placed him on the floor.

“This one we like,” he said, stumbling back when Rex gave him a shove. Echo and Skylar shook their heads fondly and cast each other amused looks.

“Omega, this is Rex,” Skylar said, gesturing between the two. Rex knelt down to her level.

“I’ve met many clones in my time, but never one like you,” he said. Omega just started at him for a moment before walking closer, stopping only inches from his face. He shifted a bit, eyes flitting around as she silently studied him.

“You’re a generation one,” she finally said, a smile forming. Rex just smiled back.

“Now how’d you know that?” he asked, impressed by this kid’s knowledge. She just continued to grin.

“From the lines on your face.”

Skylar almost spit out her drink, trying not to laugh at the look on Rex’s face after this girl just called him old. Over the years, Rex had become fairly good with kids, so he just took it in stride.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been around,” he chuckled, glancing at the group over his shoulder.

“You got that right,” Skylar laughed, earning a playful glare from him. The moment was cut short when Wrecker groaned, grabbing the side of his head.

“Sky, I need one of those med patches,” he said, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Skylar rolled her eyes, missing the way Rex studied Wrecker as he slowly stood up.

“You used the last one,” she told him, digging through her bag.

“What’s wrong?” Rex asked, leveling him with an intense look.

“Nothin’, it’s just a headache,” Wrecker said, waving a hand.

“Which are becoming more frequent,” Skylar added. Rex glanced at her before his gaze went right back to Wrecker.

“Is that so?”

“If you're concerned about the so-called inhibitor chips, don’t be,” Tech reassured from the opposite end of the bar. “Our deviant nature appears to have impeded their functionality. Except in Crosshair.”

Skylar could see Rex grow even more tense.

“You’re telling me you haven’t removed your chips?” Rex asked lowly.

“No, not yet,” Tech replied.

Rex roughly grabbed Skylar’s arm, pulling her behind him and next to Omega as his right hand pulled his cloak back and hovered over his blaster. Skylar’s eyes widened, looking from the back of Rex’s head to the four sets of frightened eyes in front of them.

“Rex…?” Hunter asked, holding his hands up and stepping backwards towards his brothers.

“Those chips make you a threat to everyone around you. Even them,” Rex said, hand gesturing slightly towards the two girls behind him. His hand then settled on his blaster, and Skylar pulled Omega back a few steps with a hand on her shoulder. “You’re all ticking time bombs.”

“Take it easy, Captain,” Hunter said, taking a few steps forward with his hands out.

“What’s in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I’ve seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don’t want to bury any more of our brothers,” Rex said. Skylar deflated, remembering what Rex told them about his own experience during Order 66. The 501st, Jesse, Ahsoka. All of them six feet under on some moon. None of them deserved that.

“Trust me. It is not something you can control. I couldn’t,” he continued, eyes dropping as he remembered being locked inside of his own mind, having to watch as he shot at Ahsoka, hunting her down. “It’s a risk you do not want to take.”

Skylar stepped forward a bit, placing a gentle hand on Rex’s armored shoulder. She felt him relax a bit, and the hand that was on his blaster came up to rest on top of hers.

She saw Hunter glance at her and Omega, frowning at the thought of having to hurt them against his will. He looked at Rex, then, determined.

“How do you suggest we get them out?” he asked. Skylar moved to stand beside Rex, turning and looking at him.

“Good question. I’ll be in touch,” he replied.

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