#the way i had the sniffles for the entire past week :(

[aller-geez]

Oxygen

Written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hey! Remember back in August how I teased a Svelex fic set for Elex’s birthday? NWELL, I FINALLY FINISHED IT 6 MONTHS LATER ✨

Just under 8k words, CW: Illness & Injury (fever, pneumonia, difficulty breathing, passing out) Medical Settings (hospital/ER scenes, oxygen use, discussions of health conditions), Mild Alcohol Use (social drinking, light references), Themes of Self-Neglect (pushing past physical limits, refusing to ask for help)

Though Oxygen explores themes of stubbornness, friendship, and vulnerability, at its heart, it’s a story about learning when to let go—and knowing when someone cares enough to catch you.

Summary: S7en has never been great at self-preservation, but for Elex’s birthday, he’s determined to pull off the perfect surprise. Weeks of planning, secret coordination, and late-night prep have all led to this—one flawless night where everything goes exactly as planned.— There’s just one problem. S7en is sick. Really sick. And he’s been hiding it.

With the weight of the day pressing down on him, the only thing keeping him going is sheer stubbornness and the desperate hope that he can hold out just a little longer. But as the night unfolds, his body has other plans, and no amount of willpower can fight the inevitable.

As reality comes crashing down, S7en is forced to confront a truth he’s spent his entire life ignoring—he’s not invincible. And sometimes, pretending to be okay only makes things worse.

Prologue:

S7en had never worked so hard on something in his life.

For weeks, he had been obsessively planning Elex’s birthday party—late nights spent hunched over sketches, paint drying on his fingers as he designed the perfect decorations, hours scouring online shops for the exact shade of green streamers that wouldn’t make Elex groan about “clashing aesthetics.” He’d snuck around behind his back to pull together the guest list, bribe people into secrecy, and track down the most obnoxiously over-the-top cake he could find. It had to be perfect.

Elex deserved perfect.

And, as always, Elex had no clue.

Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. The man could smell a lie from a mile away, sniff out bullshit like a bloodhound, but when it came to anything about himself, he was painfully oblivious. S7en could have probably told him, straight-up, “Hey, I’m planning a surprise party for you,” and Elex still would have just grunted, shrugged, and gone back to chewing on whatever plastic thing he’d picked up that day.

The same way he had completely failed to notice that S7en was getting sicker by the hour.

It had started as a scratch in his throat, nothing major—just the kind of raw, dry feeling he chalked up to too many sleepless nights and the absolute joke that was his hydration levels. He ignored it, popped a cough drop, kept going. He had too much to do to slow down now.

But then it got worse.

The scratch deepened into a constant ache, turning into that burning, sandpaper sensation that made every swallow a chore. His voice had started rasping sometime around day three, but he played it off, clearing his throat and mumbling that it was just from talking too much.

Then came the congestion.

Thick. Unshakable. A slow-building pressure behind his nose and eyes that made his head feel too heavy, too tight. He kept sniffling between sentences, breath hitching every time he tried to take a full inhale, but he was damn good at keeping it subtle.

Elex never noticed.

When he felt a sneeze creeping up, he’d duck into another room, press the back of his wrist hard against his nose, and wait it out. If he got caught off guard, he’d twist away, stifling into his sleeve so violently it left him dizzy. It left his chest tight, his head pounding, but it was better than Elex hearing and asking questions.

There was too much to do.

If he let himself sneeze once, it would turn into five. Maybe ten. And if that happened, he’d never get through his never-ending to-do list.

So he fought it. Again and again.

S7en had become a professional at dodging suspicion. He had to be—Elex might have been oblivious about some things, but he wasn’t stupid. If S7en so much as sniffled too obviously, the badger would latch onto it like a feral dog with a bone.

So S7en adapted. He learned how to mask it, how to time it, how to slip away just before his body betrayed him.

But sometimes… it got close.

The first time was late—way too late.

S7en had been running on a handful of energy drinks and sheer force of will, hunched over his desk, hand-painting decorations that no one but him would care about. The apartment was silent, save for the soft glow of his desk lamp and the occasional sound of Elex shifting in his sleep.

Which was a problem.

Because that meant every single noise S7en made was way too obvious.

He had been trying—really trying—to keep himself together, but his nose was done playing nice. The burning deep in his sinuses was unbearable, and no matter how much he bit his lip or rubbed furiously at the underside of his nose, it wasn’t stopping.

The tickle teased mercilessly, rising, falling, rising again.

Don’t. Don’t. Not now.

His breath hitched.

He jerked forward, smothering the sound into his hoodie sleeve as hard as he could.

“Hhh’NGXT!—h'KXT’chh!"

He held still, heart hammering in his chest.

The silence stretched.

Then—

A sleepy mumble from the bed.

“...Why you sneezing like a bitch over there…?”

S7en froze.

Shit.

He hadn’t even realized Elex had woken up. The badger’s voice was thick with sleep, slurred and lazy, but there was just enough suspicion in it to make S7en’s stomach drop.

Think. Think.

“Fucking… dust?..,” he muttered quickly, sniffling once for effect. “The paper’s covered in it.”

A long pause.

Then—

A heavy sigh, followed by the sound of Elex flopping onto his other side.

“Go to bed, dumbass,” he mumbled.

S7en stayed still until he was sure Elex had drifted off again.

Then, finally, he slumped forward, burying his face in his arms.

Too close.

The second time was worse.

They were sitting on the couch, half-watching some dumb action movie, Elex’s feet propped up on the coffee table as he mindlessly chewed on the plastic cap of a water bottle. He was in a good mood, talking non-stop about how he "just had a feeling something cool was gonna happen" on his birthday.

Which would have been hilarious if S7en wasn’t actively trying not to sneeze on him.

His nose had been itching relentlessly for the last five minutes. That awful, creeping burn was rising up again, and no matter how much he rubbed at his nose discreetly, it wasn’t enough.

Bad timing. Really bad timing.

His breath hitched—barely enough to make a sound.

Too close.

He needed to get out of there.

Stretching his arms in an exaggerated yawn, he forced his muscles to stay loose and casual as he pushed himself off the couch.

“Gonna grab a drink,” he muttered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Get me one,” Elex called after him, not even looking away from the screen.

S7en didn’t answer.

Because the second he was out of sight, he barely made it to the sink in time before a violent—

"Hh—! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh!"

—ripped through him, bending him forward with the force of it.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, breath shuddering as another chest-deep cough tore out of him immediately after. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get it together before—

“You good in there?”

S7en nearly jumped out of his own damn skin.

Elex’s voice was casual, distracted, but S7en knew him too well.

The badger had noticed something.

Shit.

He barely had time to smother another cough into his sleeve before he forced his voice to sound normal.

“Yeah. Just—fucking—dropped something.”

A pause.

Then, mercifully, Elex just grunted, attention snapping back to the movie.

S7en exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples.

Too close. Again.

By the end of the week, he knew.

This wasn’t just a cold.

The signs had been there for days, creeping up on him like a slow, inevitable landslide. At first, it had been subtle—a scratch in his throat, a little extra weight in his chest. But now? Now, every breath ached, every inhale felt like dragging air through soaked fabric.

His lungs weren’t just tight anymore. They were drowning.

And when he coughed—because, at this point, there was no fighting it anymore—it wasn’t some weak, dry little thing he could brush off. No, it was deep, raw, rattling, the kind of cough that came from somewhere low and dangerous, scraping the bottom of his lungs like a dull blade.

It hurt.

And Elex still didn’t notice.

Because S7en made sure of it.

He had perfected the art of hiding it.

Whenever Elex was around, S7en played it off like nothing was wrong. He timed his coughing fits so they happened when Elex was in the shower, when he was digging through the fridge, when he was too distracted ranting about something to notice the way S7en had to brace himself against the counter just to stay upright.

If a sneeze hit, he bit back against it with everything he had, muffling it into his hoodie sleeve until his head pounded. If he couldn’t stop it, he’d make sure to stifle it into near silence, no matter how much the pressure made his already aching sinuses throb.

His voice was going hoarse, his breathing was labored, but he pushed through, kept talking like nothing had changed.

When his hands started shaking, he simply curled his fingers tighter around whatever he was holding—a drink, his paintbrush, the edge of the counter—until they stopped trembling long enough to keep up the act.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, but if Elex glanced at him for too long, he’d just mutter something about being exhausted and wave him off.

Everything needed to be done.

And he wasn’t about to let a little cold ruin it.

Even as it got harder to stand without swaying.
Even as his lungs tightened like a vice with every breath.
Even as his body screamed at him to just stop.

He pushed forward.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

August 10th:

The morning of Elex’s birthday should have been easy.

After all, S7en had spent weeks planning every last detail. The decorations were set up, the cake was waiting in the fridge, and their friends were in on the plan, all waiting for the big reveal later that night.

All he had to do was get through the day.

And yet, when Elex jolted awake that morning—cocky, buzzing with birthday energy, already texting half his contact list like he was about to throw himself the most legendary party of all time—S7en could barely sit up without his vision blurring at the edges.

The second he lifted his head, a fresh pulse of pain slammed through his skull, a migraine so sharp it felt like his brain was trying to escape through his eye sockets. He swallowed against the nausea, trying to ignore the way his throat burned, raw and swollen, while his chest tightened with every inhale.

Bad. Really bad.

But he didn’t have time for bad.

So, S7en forced a grin, let Elex’s nonsense birthday rambling wash over him, and powered through.

“S7en, I swear to God, my birthday instincts are going crazy today,” Elex announced, cracking open an energy drink before he was even fully sitting up.

S7en barely managed to hold back a pained wince at the sound of the can popping. Too loud.

“Oh yeah?” he croaked, then immediately regretted speaking. His voice was wrecked, rougher than usual, like he’d spent the entire night screaming into a pillow.

Not ideal.

But if Elex noticed, he didn’t say anything—too busy stretching with an exaggerated groan before flopping onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His mismatched eyes gleamed, that lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah. It’s like—I dunno, a sixth sense,” Elex went on, taking a sip of his drink. “Like, I just know when something big’s about to happen.”

S7en hummed, noncommittal. “Birthday instincts,” he repeated flatly.

“Exactly.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you might need a refund, dude.”

Elex snorted, waving him off. “Nah, nah, it’s real. Watch—by the end of the day, something sick is gonna go down, and I’m gonna be totally right.”

S7en bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because if Elex had even the slightest clue about the party, he would not be this calm. But the badger, for all his cocky bravado, was utterly, hilariously clueless.

Good. That meant S7en’s work wasn’t for nothing.

But as he pushed himself up, the room lurched sideways, and his stomach twisted violently.

Shit.

He froze, pressing his hands into the mattress to steady himself, willing the dizziness to pass. But his lungs ached when he took a breath, and his ribs felt like they were wrapped in tight, unrelenting bands.

Breathe. Breathe through it.

Elex, of course, was too busy hyping himself up to notice.

“Bet something sick happens before noon,” he said, checking his phone. “Maybe I’ll win some crazy giveaway. Or, like, get free food somewhere.”

S7en forced out a breathy laugh, ignoring the sharp, rattling sensation in his chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that.”

Because at the rate he was going?

Something was gonna happen before noon.

Just not the kind of surprise Elex was expecting.

S7en just had to get through the morning.

Then the afternoon.

Then the party.

Simple.

Except nothing about this was simple when his entire body was actively trying to betray him.

He had barely been upright for two minutes before the pressure in his sinuses flared up again, an unbearable, burning tickle crawling its way deeper. His breath caught just once—a sharp, involuntary inhale—before he forced it down, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting.

Not now. Not in front of Elex.

Elex, still riding his birthday ego trip, had zero idea what was going on, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Completely unaware of the absolute war S7en was fighting just two feet away.

"Alright," Elex announced, cracking his neck. "I’m thinking pancakes."

S7en barely heard him. His focus was on not sneezing.

The burning sensation spiked, his nose twitching, his breath threatening to hitch again. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his mouth, willing the tickle to settle.

No luck.

It was coming, fast.

Shit. Move.

Before Elex could glance his way, S7en swung his legs over the bed and pushed himself up, heading straight for the bathroom. Too fast. His vision swam, dizziness crashing into him all at once, but he barely managed to keep himself upright, gripping the doorframe for balance.

He shoved the door shut behind him, barely able to hold back the gasping inhale before—

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!!"

Fuck.

He doubled over against the counter, pressing the heel of his hand against his nose, his breath still stuttering from the sheer force of it. The moment he tried to straighten, another thick, chest-deep cough forced its way up, scraping like sandpaper in his throat.

His lungs felt wrecked. His head was pounding.

And he had approximately five seconds before Elex came looking for him.

Swallowing hard, S7en quickly turned on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, trying to erase the obvious flush creeping into his cheeks. A second later, he heard Elex’s footsteps outside the door.

“You dying in there?”

S7en cleared his throat, ignoring the sharp pain it sent through his ribs. Make it sound normal.

“Chill,” he called back, voice rough but controlled. “Didn’t know I had to schedule my pisses around your breakfast plans.”

Elex snorted. “I mean, you do. But I’ll allow it, since it’s my birthday.”

S7en exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink.

Too close. Again.

By the time S7en forced himself back into the kitchen, Elex had already trashed his pancake idea in favor of raiding the fridge for anything edible. He stood with the door wide open, shoving a piece of cold pizza into his mouth like he wasn’t the absolute most unhinged person alive.

S7en could barely look at food without feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"You good?" Elex asked around a mouthful, finally giving him a passing glance.

S7en shrugged, keeping his movements casual, despite the way his body screamed at him to sit the hell down.

"Tired," he muttered, heading for the cabinet where they kept their mugs. If he had something in his hands, it’d be easier to look normal.

Elex didn’t press, which was both a relief and kind of funny, considering if their situations were reversed, S7en would have had him in a chokehold demanding answers. But Elex just yawned, stretching again.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Big day. You should nap or something."

The irony almost made S7en laugh.

Yeah. Sure. Great idea. He’d get right on that.

As soon as he survived the next fourteen hours.

But as he reached for a mug, the telltale prickling started up again. His breath hitched before he could stop it.

Shit. No. Not here. Not now.

Keeping his back firmly to Elex, he pressed his wrist hard against his nose, willing it to stop. His shoulders tensed as the itch flared up, teasing mercilessly.

Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.

Elex, blissfully unaware, just kept rambling, his voice distant, drowned out by the relentless burning in S7en’s sinuses.

It was winning.

S7en had no choice.

With as much control as he could manage, he ducked his head into the crook of his arm, forcing the sneezes silent.

"Hh'NGXt! Ktchhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure was brutal, his skull throbbing with the effort of holding them back. His lungs seized painfully, a cough clawing its way up, but he swallowed it down, knuckles tightening around the counter.

He waited.

Nothing.

Elex hadn't noticed.

Slowly, carefully, S7en straightened, schooling his expression before turning back around.

Elex was still halfway through his pizza, scrolling through his phone with zero clue about the absolute disaster happening right in front of him.

S7en let out a shaky breath, grabbing his mug with slightly unsteady fingers.

He just had to get through the day.

That was the mantra he kept repeating in his head, over and over, like a scratched CD skipping on the same damn track. Just a few more hours. Then the party. Then the moment when Elex would finally see the absolute masterpiece S7en had spent weeks putting together. Then—maybe—he could breathe.

If his lungs still worked by then.

It was getting harder to ignore. Everything.

The aches had settled deep into his bones, like he was dragging concrete around his limbs. His head pounded relentlessly, his chest felt like it was wrapped in steel wire, and his breath was turning shallow, forced, unnatural.

And Elex?

Still didn’t notice.

Somehow.

It was actually impressive, in a way that was borderline offensive.

Because anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that S7en was not okay.

His skin was pale, fever-glazed, dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes. His voice had gone from a little hoarse in the morning to full-blown wreckage, scraping and raw like he’d been swallowing glass shards for fun.

And yet.

Nothing.

Elex was still living in his own little birthday world, sending obnoxious texts to his friends, hyping up his own damn existence, and loudly debating whether he should get a new tattoo or a pet snake to mark the occasion.

S7en was dying in real time, and Elex was googling exotic pet names.

Ridiculous.

By the time they left the apartment, the sun was too bright, the air too sharp, and S7en was too damn tired.

He had planned to stay inside, get through some last-minute details, maybe even steal a moment to sit down and pretend his body wasn’t actively staging a rebellion.

But Elex, in all his unmatched, chaotic glory, had insisted on going out.

“It’s my birthday,” he had said, flashing a grin that should be illegal. “You’re legally required to follow me around and do dumb shit all day.”

S7en had just barely held back a groan.

The first stop was some hole-in-the-wall shop Elex swore had the best snacks on the planet. S7en, running on sheer force of will and the lingering effects of a third energy drink, followed him in, head pounding, lungs on fire.

He was so focused on staying upright that he didn’t notice the way his sinuses had been slowly tightening, congestion pressing like a vice behind his eyes.

Then, as he shifted his weight, something shifted with it.

A sudden, sharp readjustment deep in his sinuses sent a blinding tickle straight through his nose, pressure tipping over into something unstoppable.

Oh, fuck.

His breath hitched dangerously, his nostrils twitching, the overwhelming sensation building too fast for him to fight.

Not here. Not now.

He turned sharply on his heel, heading toward the corner of the store, hand clamped over his nose.

The moment he was out of sight, he braced against the shelf, burying his face into his sleeve as his body gave up.

“Hh—HhAH’DTschhh! Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!!”

His ribs screamed in protest, his vision swimming from the sheer force of it. His breath hitched again, another wracking cough tearing out of him immediately after, leaving him shaking, dizzy, breathless.

Too much. Way too much.

He forced himself upright, swallowing against the rawness in his throat, fingers digging into the shelf for balance. He needed to move before—

“Sven?”

Shit.

He barely had time to school his face into something remotely normal before Elex appeared around the corner, holding a pack of sour candy and a soda, looking infuriatingly relaxed.

“You find something?” Elex asked, popping open the drink like nothing was wrong.

S7en cleared his throat, biting back the unbearable urge to cough again. “Nah. Just looking.”

Elex blinked at him, then tilted his head slightly.

For half a second, S7en thought—hoped, really—that maybe Elex was finally putting two and two together. That he’d look at him and actually see what was happening.

But then the badger just shrugged.

“Cool. Let’s hit the gas station. I wanna see if they have those weird energy drinks from Japan.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

S7en swallowed back another cough, another wave of exhaustion, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice scraping at the sides. “Sure.”

And without much more, he followed Elex back out into the sun, lungs screaming, heart pounding, the warmth of the afternoon too sharp, too heavy against his feverish skin.

The heat pressed down on him like a weight, making the air feel thicker, harder to breathe, and for a moment, as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the world tilted dangerously beneath his feet. He forced himself forward, keeping his stride even, controlled, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

The party was just a few hours away.

He just had to last a little longer.

But his body? His body was done.

The fever that had been simmering beneath his skin all morning had finally boiled over, turning into a suffocating, all-encompassing heat that made the world feel distant and unreal. He felt like he was walking through a fog, slow and sluggish, barely tethered to his own movements.

His hoodie, usually something soft, comforting, familiar, now felt like a weight pressing down on his overheated body. The fabric clung to his skin like insulation, trapping the fever in, suffocating him from the inside out.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to breathe.

Every inhale was tight, shallow, unsatisfying, as if the air itself had thickened, turning into something too dense to pull into his lungs. He knew he should have eaten something, but the mere thought of food made his stomach twist violently, nausea crawling up his throat.

But none of it mattered.

None of it could matter.

Because Elex was still completely oblivious.

So when the badger shoved his phone into his pocket and announced they were going to the arcade, S7en nodded.

When Elex cracked another joke about his “birthday instincts,” S7en forced out a laugh, even though his ribs ached from the effort.

And when a sneeze built out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting, forcing it back, forcing his breath to even out before it could betray him.

It was fine.

He could do this.

And then—

Elex threw an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer, leaning some of his weight into him in that effortless, careless way he always did.

S7en felt his legs nearly give out beneath him.

It was only for a second. A brief, involuntary dip in his balance that he corrected just in time, locking his muscles in place before he could actually collapse.

Elex didn’t notice.

Because of course he didn’t.

He just kept talking, laughing, existing, completely unaware that the world around S7en had started to tilt dangerously again.

That the sounds of the arcade were beginning to blur into a low, distant hum.

That every inhale was tighter, shallower, harder to take in.

That S7en, for the first time all day, wasn’t sure if he could keep this up.

A single thought forced its way through the haze.

You’re not gonna make it to the party.

The arcade was a neon-lit blur, the pounding music and overlapping voices slamming into his skull like a hammer to glass. His fever had reached new, unbearable heights, making the room feel hot and cold all at once, the flashing lights too bright, the noise too much.

And still—he kept moving.

Elex was having the time of his life, completely in his element, button-mashing through some fighting game like it was a life-or-death battle. S7en barely processed what was happening, just stood there, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, rocking slightly on his heels to keep himself upright.

The floor tilted beneath him again, nausea coiling tight in his stomach.

Just a little longer.

Just a little—

“Dude, you’re terrible at this,” Elex announced, nudging him toward the machine. “Come on, you gotta play at least once. Birthday rules.”

S7en knew if he sat down, he wasn’t getting back up.

But Elex was staring at him now, actually looking at him, and S7en had to move, had to do something, had to make sure Elex didn’t catch on.

So he shrugged, smirked through the absolute exhaustion dragging at his limbs, and picked up the controller.

The match was a disaster.

His hands were too shaky, his reflexes too slow, but somehow—somehow—he made it through without drawing too much attention.

By the time they left the arcade, the sun had begun to set, and the cool air should have felt refreshing. Instead, it only made his fever chills worse.

S7en barely made it through the door before he was shrugging off his hoodie, the fabric sticking to his overheated skin. His t-shirt underneath was just as bad, suffocating, but Elex was already grabbing beers from the fridge, completely unaware of the absolute train wreck standing behind him.

Elex tossed one over without looking.

“Happy birthday to me,” he announced, cracking his open. “Now drink, coward.”

S7en caught the can out of reflex, but the thought of alcohol sent an immediate wave of nausea rolling through him. He hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal, trying to psych himself up.

If he refused, Elex would notice.

So he lifted it, took a sip—

And nearly gagged.

The second the liquid hit his throat, his stomach flipped violently, his body rejecting it on instinct. He swallowed it down, forcing his expression to stay neutral, relaxed, normal, but the warmth rising in his throat told a different story.

Fuck.

The carbonation burned going down, only agitating his raw, sore throat further. He barely contained a cough, throat clenching as he forced himself to lower the can casually, like nothing was wrong.

Mercifully, Elex had already turned away, completely distracted by his phone buzzing on the counter.

“Rex?” he muttered, before picking up.

S7en exhaled silently, relief cutting through the fever haze.

“Yo, what’s up?” Elex answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his keys.

S7en barely processed the conversation, his focus slipping in and out as Elex and Rexar started talking about car problems, something about the transmission, something about a weird noise.

Then, finally—finally—Elex headed for the door.

“I’m gonna check my car while I talk him through this,” he said, already halfway outside. “Don’t drink all my beer while I’m gone.”

S7en barely managed a smirk, lifting the can in mock cheers as the door swung shut.

The second the lock clicked, his whole body gave up.

The first cough was immediate, tearing through his chest with enough force to make him double over against the counter. The sound crashed through the empty kitchen, harsh and unrestrained, his body finally allowed to react after an entire day of suppression.

Then another. And another.

It was unstoppable now, his body making up for all the times he’d held it back, a brutal mix of hacking, gasping coughs and desperate, shuddering sneezes.

"Hh—hhAHH’Tschh! Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

His body jerked forward with each one, raw, painful, messy—his breath barely catching before another slammed into him. His hand scrambled blindly for his phone, barely able to see through fever-glazed eyes as he pulled up his contact list.

The party. The guests. He needed to check the plans.

He hit the first name.

Freya.

Her face appeared on screen, and the second the call connected, she took one look at him and frowned.

"Geezus, S7en. You look like death.”

S7en sniffled hard, rubbing at his nose with his wrist, attempting to smirk, but it came out more like a grimace.

“Damn, angel, don’t hold back,” he rasped.

Freya narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Are you seriously still running this party?"

"Obviously."

"You can barely hold your damn phone up."

S7en rolled his eyes, regretted it immediately when the movement made his head swim. "I’m good."

Freya looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and shake him, but before she could argue, another rapid-fire sneezing fit tore through him, leaving him breathless and hunched forward over the counter.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!! hHh—! HhHPTT’tchhiEW!! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

Freya just stared.

Then—flatly: “Uh-huh. Sure. You sound great.”

S7en groaned, sniffling thickly as he waved her off.

"Look, just—are we still good for eight? I don’t have time for a lecture.”

She sighed, clearly not thrilled, but nodded. "Yeah. Everything’s set."

"Good. See you then."

And with that, he ended the call before she could press him further.

Next.

Kriia picked up on the second ring.

And just like Freya, she took one look at him and immediately frowned.

"Yo. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Evening to you, too," he muttered, sniffling into his sleeve.

"You look like you lost a fight. With, like. A bus."

S7en snorted, regretted it instantly as another cough tore through his chest, sending a sharp, tearing pain through his ribs.

Kriia’s expression shifted, concern settling in. "Dude. Are you sure you should be doing this?"

S7en waved her off before she could start, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

"It’s Elex’s birthday. I’m not ruining it.”

Kriia exhaled slowly, like she was debating whether to fight him on this. But in the end, she just muttered, "Your funeral, man," before confirming the plans.

S7en ended the call and dropped his phone onto the counter, fingers digging into the surface as another wave of dizziness hit.

The door clicked open again.

Shit.

His body snapped upright on instinct, throat still burning, lungs still raw, but Elex was already stepping inside, phone tucked away, beer still in hand.

"Apparently Rex’s transmission’s fucked," he muttered, completely unaware of what had just happened.

S7en forced a half-smirk, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tough break."

Elex flopped onto the couch.

"Whatever. Commute’s gonna be shit, though."

S7en swallowed hard, ignoring the fire in his chest.

"Yeah," he murmured.

Everything was too hot, too loud, too sharp at the edges. His body was dragging, fever weighing him down like cement blocks strapped to his limbs, but the worst part was his head. It was pounding relentlessly, a deep, throbbing ache that had settled right behind his eyes, making his vision swim every time he moved too fast.

And yet—he still almost forgot the damn restaurant reservations.

It wasn’t until Elex, now two beers deep, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and stretched like he had no plans to move for the rest of the night that it finally hit him.

Shit.

"Alright, get up," S7en said, standing way too fast. The floor tilted. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet, forced himself to stay upright. "We got dinner reservations."

Elex blinked at him, caught mid-yawn. "Wait—what?"

S7en sighed, rolling his eyes like his head wasn’t spinning in slow, miserable circles. "You really thought I wasn’t taking you out for dinner? What kind of boyfriend would I be?"

That earned him a grin, lazy and smug. "Damn. I really am the best."

S7en snorted. "Uh-huh. Now get your shoes on."

And just like that, the plan was back on track.

As long as S7en didn’t pass out before they got there.

The drive was a blur.

S7en shouldn’t have been driving. He knew that.

His vision swam every time he shifted lanes, his hands felt unsteady on the wheel, and every time he blinked, his fever-hazed brain took just a little too long to process what was in front of him.

But if he let Elex drive, that meant questions. That meant attention. That meant a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

So he forced his fingers to grip the wheel tighter, focused on the road like his life depended on it.

Which, honestly, it probably did.

By the time they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, his knuckles were white from how hard he’d been holding on.

Just a little longer.

Except—when they got inside, it all went to hell.

S7en barely processed what the hostess was saying at first, his fever-glazed brain lagging behind reality.

“…I’m really sorry about the mix-up, but unfortunately, we don’t have a reservation under that name.”

S7en blinked. "…What?"

The hostess winced. "It looks like there was an error in our system, and we’re completely booked for the night."

Elex frowned, looking at S7en. "Didn’t you book this, like, a week ago?"

"Yeah," S7en rasped, throat raw, jaw tightening. He turned back to the hostess, forcing himself to stay calm. "So… what’s the wait time?"

She gave an awkward smile.

"About two hours."

S7en nearly laughed out of sheer exhaustion.

Elex sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Welp. Guess we’re going home, then."

And for the first time all day, luck was on S7en’s side.

Because that was exactly what he needed to happen.

He gave the hostess a half-hearted nod before turning back toward the door, shoulders tense, every muscle aching.

Fine. Home it was.

S7en still should not have been driving.

His head was swimming, the world tilting at the edges, but he was too stubborn, too deep into the lie to stop now.

Elex, meanwhile, was perfectly content, reclining in the passenger seat like he hadn’t a single care in the world. "Honestly, I wasn’t that hungry anyway," he mused. "Good call, though. The universe clearly wants me to have homemade pizza instead."

S7en made a noise that might have been agreement, though it came out more like a weak exhale.

His grip on the wheel was tight, too tight, but he didn’t trust himself to loosen his fingers without them shaking.

Then—a problem.

The congestion that had been building behind his eyes all day shifted suddenly, sending a sharp, burning tickle straight through his sinuses.

His breath hitched violently, the urge to sneeze crashing into him like a tidal wave.

No. Not now. Not while driving.

He swallowed hard, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. His fingers flexed against the wheel, breath quivering, trying desperately to force it back down.

It wasn’t working.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His vision blurred, breath stuttering, but just as his body jerked forward involuntarily, he lunged for the volume knob on the radio, cranking it up just in time.

"Hh’NGXT! K’tshhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure made his ears ring, his head throb twice as hard, but Elex didn’t even flinch.

"Okay, why the hell is the music so loud now?"

S7en sniffled subtly, shifting in his seat. "Needed to wake myself up."

Elex huffed a laugh. "Damn. Didn’t know dinner cancellation trauma hit you that hard."

S7en forced a smirk, even as his sinuses screamed in protest. "Devastating."

And then, thankfully, mercifully, they pulled into the apartment lot.

The second the car was in park, S7en let go of the wheel like it had burned him. His fingers were stiff, locked from how tightly he’d been gripping it the whole drive.

Elex stretched, groaning dramatically. "Man, what a weird-ass birthday. Hopefully, the universe has one more surprise left for me."

Yeah.

You have no idea.

S7en forced himself to stand, lungs protesting, vision blurring dangerously for just a moment.

Almost there.

He just had to get inside.

Just a few more steps.

Just a little—

His breath hitched again, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing it down.

Not yet.

Not until he was alone.

S7en barely made it through the door before chaos erupted.

“SURPRISE!”

The apartment exploded with noise—cheering, shouting, laughter—all blending into one deafening wall of sound.

Elex’s reaction was instantaneous.

His fists shot up, body twisting instinctively, already halfway through swinging on whoever had dared to startle him.

For a split second, S7en had a horrifying vision of Freya or Kriia getting decked in the face, but just as Elex’s arm tensed, realization hit.

His narrowed eyes scanned the room, taking in the decorations, the crowd of friends, the drinks already in waiting hands.

Then—he turned to S7en.

That stupid, crooked grin stretched across his face, all sharp teeth and amusement, his previous fight mode already forgotten.

“You little shit,” he muttered, clapping a heavy hand on S7en’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “You actually got me.”

S7en barely held back a grimace at the sudden contact, his body thrumming with exhaustion, but he forced himself to grin through it.

“Told you your birthday instincts were trash,” he rasped, barely audible over the noise.

Elex laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah—okay, you win.”

The moment should have felt like victory.

And in a way, it did.

S7en had done it. The party had come together exactly how he planned, every detail falling into place just as he had imagined.

He had made it.

But as the music turned up, as drinks started passing between hands, as people settled into the celebration, S7en realized—

He still had to survive the rest of the night...

By the time everyone had arrived, the apartment was a perfect mix of chaos and celebration.

Music blasted.
Drinks flowed.
Elex was in his element, soaking up the attention, grinning like an idiot as his friends hyped him up.

S7en stayed near the edges, tucked into the background, letting the night move around him.

Everything felt far away, like he was watching the party from the other side of a glass wall. The fever had dragged him into a dreamlike haze, every noise muffled, every movement just slightly out of sync.

Still, he could see Elex—laughing, teasing, play-fighting with Rexar over some inside joke about "Toad Biscuit" merch.

The night blurred around him—colors bleeding together, laughter twisting into an indistinct hum, the weight of the room pressing down too heavy, too hot, too much.

S7en had spent the entire day pushing forward, ignoring the way his body was crumbling beneath him.

This was the last thing.

Just one more step.

One more task.

Someone called for cake.

The words barely registered, muffled beneath the fever’s grip, but his body moved on instinct.

S7en stepped toward the table, striking a match with trembling fingers.

The tiny flicker of fire blurred before his eyes, swaying unnaturally, and it took him a second too long to realize—it wasn’t the flame that was moving.

It was him.

The floor lurched beneath him like the ground had been ripped out from under his feet.

His chest tightened—seized—refused to expand.

A sharp, deafening ringing filled his ears.

His vision tilted violently, everything twisting into a warped, spinning mess of distorted colors and movement.

Far away—too far away—he could hear Elex’s voice, lighthearted, distracted, still caught up in the conversation, still completely unaware.

S7en tried to step forward—to finish what he started, to keep going, to keep standing—

But his knees buckled.

His breath stuttered dangerously, shallow and weak, his body losing the battle he had forced it to fight all day.

And then—

Elex’s voice sharpened, cut through the fog.

Something in his tone shifted—not joking anymore, not distracted anymore.

Alarm.

Realization.

“Wait—Sven!?”

Elex saw it happening.

But he was too far.

He was on the other side of the room, still surrounded by people, still grinning one second ago, still completely oblivious to just how wrong things were.

Then he turned.

And his stomach dropped.

He saw it—the way S7en swayed violently, the way his fingers slipped, the way his breath hitched in a way that had nothing to do with laughter.

His body was giving out.

Too fast.

Too soon.

Elex moved instantly, shoving through the crowd, but he was too late.

S7en’s body tilted forward, his orange eyes rolling back slightly.

The match slipped from his fingers, flame snuffing out before it even hit the ground.

His legs crumpled.

And before Elex could reach him—before anyone could react—

S7en hit the floor.

S7en drifted somewhere between consciousness and nothingness, floating in the thick, fevered haze of half-awareness. His body felt heavy, his limbs like lead, his chest wrapped in tight, suffocating bands that wouldn’t let him breathe fully.

He could hear voices.

Familiar, but distant—like sound carried through waterlogged fabric, muffled and uneven.

Then, one voice cut through the haze, clear and sharp.

“His blood oxygen was at eighty-one percent when they brought him in.”

That was bad. Even he knew that was bad.

A sigh—low, exasperated, but not surprised.

Elex.

“Geezus fuck,” he muttered, voice strained with something tired, frustrated, guilty.

The other voice—a woman’s—continued speaking, firm but calm, the kind of voice used to dealing with stubborn, repeat offenders.

“He has pretty severe pneumonia," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re lucky he passed out when he did. If he’d stayed upright much longer, he probably would’ve just stopped breathing entirely.”

S7en didn’t have to see Elex’s face to know exactly what expression he was making.

Jaw clenched.

Hand rubbing over his face.

That rare moment when Elex wasn’t just annoyed, but genuinely upset.

And not at anyone else.

At himself.

S7en could practically hear the weight settle in his voice when he muttered, “…I should’ve noticed.”

The woman—whose voice was familiar in a way that took too much effort to place—sighed through her nose, not unkind, but firm.

"Yeah," she agreed bluntly. "You should have."

A pause.

Then—paper rustling, the sound of something being shifted from one hand to another.

“These are his prescriptions,” she continued. “Antibiotics, steroids, inhalers—we’re trying these this time. Make sure he actually takes them.”

That voice.

The realization hit sluggishly.

ER nurse.

He knew her.

She had been there every time he’d landed himself in this exact same situation.

Enough times to know him by name.

God, that was embarrassing.

Elex sighed again, and S7en could hear the distinct crinkle of the paper bag as he took it from her.

His voice was quieter this time. Tired. Guilty.

“I got it,” he murmured.

Another pause.

Then—her voice softened just slightly.

“Just… be more observant next time, yeah?”

No sharpness now, just gentle warning.

“Could be worse, next time.”

No argument. No defensive retort.

Just the quiet sound of Elex nodding.

S7en wanted to laugh.

If only he had the breath for it.

After a moment, a long, heavy sigh broke through the silence.

Then—the soft creak of a chair being dragged across the tile.

S7en felt more than heard Elex drop into the seat next to his hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees, the weight of exhaustion settling into his frame.

Then came the sound of both hands dragging down his face, a quiet but telling frustration behind it.

S7en almost would’ve gotten away with pretending to still be asleep.

Almost.

Except—his damn ear twitched.

Elex caught it immediately.

"I know you’re awake, dumbass," he muttered, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

S7en hesitated.

Then, slowly, he cracked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light overhead. The world swam for a moment before settling, and when his vision finally focused, the first thing he saw was Elex watching him.

Worried. Tired. Like he’d just come back from a war he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

S7en’s ears flattened instinctively in embarrassment, a quiet flicker of shame settling in his chest.

The room was small, sterile, impersonal—the same goddamn hospital he had spent far too much time in over the years.

And the weight of his failure hit him all at once.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

A shift in his nose made him suddenly aware of the cannula, delivering pure oxygen to his wasted lungs.

His fingers twitched, reaching up to pull it off, but Elex’s hand was there first—firm but gentle, gripping his forearm.

"Don’t," Elex said softly.

S7en stilled, swallowing hard, ears pinning further against his head.

A beat of silence.

Then, in the same quiet, unusually careful voice, Elex asked,

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

S7en hated how much that question hurt.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Elex. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his lap, claws absently picking at the thin hospital blanket.

"I—" He stopped, voice raw, barely above a whisper. He swallowed, trying again.

"I didn’t want to be the reason your birthday sucked…"

Elex stiffened slightly.

S7en continued, ears still pressed flat, tail curling closer to himself.

"I worked so hard to make it perfect," he muttered, barely breathing the words. "And after everything, we’re still here. Another—" his voice wavered, thick with frustration, "another claustrophobic, shitty little hospital room."

Silence.

S7en braced himself for Elex to be pissed. For the usual snark, sarcasm, maybe even an exasperated rant.

But instead—

Elex sighed, slow and deep, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than S7en had ever heard it.

"Dude. I don’t give a shit about some stupid party."

S7en blinked, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Elex ran a hand through his messy, dark green hair, shaking his head. "You really think I care about that more than you literally—collapsing in front of me?" His voice wavered slightly, jaw clenching before he forced it back down.

S7en didn't know what to say.

Elex exhaled sharply, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees.

"I should’ve noticed." The words came out quiet, guilty. "I mean, fuck, you looked awful all day. I just—I was too caught up in my own bullshit to pay attention."

S7en shook his head weakly, ears twitching. "Not your fault."

"Not entirely," Elex agreed, mouth quirking slightly. Then, more serious, "But you’ve gotta stop doing this, man."

S7en swallowed, feeling suddenly very small.

"You don’t have to—I don’t know—carry everything yourself," Elex continued, voice softer now, tired but firm. "It’s okay to tap out sometimes. Party or not."

S7en hesitated.

Then—finally—he met Elex’s gaze.

And what he saw there wasn’t annoyance, or frustration, or the usual bullshit banter.

It was genuine concern.

That made something tighten in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with pneumonia.

The corner of Elex’s mouth twitched into something softer, and after a pause, he added,

"By the way, next time you try to fake being fine, maybe don’t fucking pass out in the middle of a party. Kinda ruins the illusion."

Despite himself, despite everything, S7en huffed a weak, breathless laugh.

"Noted."

Elex rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

And for the first time all day, S7en finally let himself relax.

The end 🖤

[wonwayne]

cold season ☁️ lee heeseung

pairing : bff!heeseung x gn!reader genre : fluff, comfort warnings : mentions of food word count : 0.6k

a/n : flirty heeseung with zero survival instinct comes to cuddle while you’re sick.

“you look so hot right now.”

you winced your eyes open to look incredulously up at your doe-eyed best friend. it’s too damn bright in this room, you thought, as your head continued pounding. there were more things about the condition of your room you were unhappy with at the moment: the suffocating humidity from you staying cooped up here with the doors closed for nearly three days straight; the mess of your bedside table, littered with tissues and soaked tea bags; and your own nightmarish appearance, violated by swollen eyes and hair matted by sweat. you felt somewhat sheepish, letting yourself be perceived by heeseung in this state, but you were also too relieved to see him to shoo him away — or register the undertone of his comment.

“yeah, that’s a 101 degree fever for you.” your voice was so nasal, you wondered if the words were actively coming out your nose.

heeseung pouted, taking your clammy hand in his cool ones. “have you eaten? want me to order soup?”

you shook your head weakly. “no need.”

“to eat? humanity has proved otherwise.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to slip your hand out of his grip, but he held on tight.

“chicken noodle would be a bit basic, wouldn’t it? maybe something spicier? gamjatang?” with his free hand, he was opening the delivery app on his phone. “when i had that nasty cold like a month ago, this place absolutely saved me—”

“i really appreciate the thought, hee, but i swear i’ve got no appetite.” you squeezed his hand this time, hoping that, like a chinese finger trap, he’d let you go because of it.

when he showed no signs of doing so, you added, “do you really want that nasty cold back? i’ve been quarantining for a reason, idiot.”

heeseung only chuckled at the nickname. “perfect, just ordered. should be coming in the next 20 minutes or so.”

“heeseung.” you used all the energy left in you not to sound pathetically silly.

“yes, darling?”

you frowned at his response. “you’re seriously calling me darling right now? when i look like this?”

“’course i am,” and he took your hand up to his lips for the softest, sweetest peck, “as i said, you look so incredibly hot.”

suddenly, you felt the urge to punch him for being so unserious. (and for making you blush from more than your heightened body temperature.) but instead, against your will, you found yourself tugging him by the hand with such raw, instant force that he lost his balance, falling over you onto the bed and narrowly missing the headboard.

on second thought, you hadn’t seized him with that much force — definitely not enough to trip him over. but before you could open your mouth to apologize, at least out of courtesy, heeseung was adjusting himself to lie parallel to you, hand still intertwined in yours.

“ah,” he sighed, turning onto his side and shifting closer to you so that his face was almost entirely buried in your neck, “your bed is insanely comfortable.”

you sniffled in faux disgust, sliding to the edge of the mattress as if you actually had a chance of escaping his embrace. much to your surprise, he pulled you right back into him by your waist.

“your white blood cells are so pissed at you right now,” you huffed, trying not to betray how flustered you were by his touch.

“okay, nerd,” he shot back, snuggling ever closer into your backside. “you know, i’m starting to regret ordering that gamjatang.”

“and why is that?”

“because now that i’m here, i’d never want to leave your side.”

[buckyalpine]

Imagine feeling needy and sad when Bucky pays more attention to your very round, pregnant tummy instead of you. I mean he doesn't actually. You're his entire world and you come first no matter what but currently, you feel like the little super soldier you're carrying is getting much more love than you.

"How's my little plum" Bucky cooed, peppering kisses all over your tummy, snuggling against your skin after coming back from a mission. 2 weeks had never felt longer and you were craving your husband more than ever. As soon as you heard the rumble of the jet, you waddled from your room as best as you could, panting out of breath by the time you reached the living room.

You couldn't wait to have your Bucky safe in your arms again, giggling at the way he tossed his bag and jacket to the side haphazardly, running straight to you. You braced yourself for an attack and flurry of hugs and kisses he always greeted you with but it never came.

You squeaked as he picked you up and set you on the couch, lifting your shirt up to curl up with your belly, sighing contently as his scruffy cheek pressed against your warm skin. You brought your hand down to play with his soft cropped hair, longing to feel his arms hold you, his warm lips all over your face, his sweet words of how much he missed you and how happy he was to be back home with you again. Instead, the tiny soldier in your belly was hogging up all the time with his daddy.

Of course it was ridiculous. You knew Bucky loved you more than anything else in the world; he doted on you all the time, you were the most precious thing in this life. He adored you more than ever, worshipping your every being and ever since you'd told him he was going to be a father, he'd fallen in love with you more. You were giving him the family he dreamed of with his dream girl, you trusted him, you were carrying his little baby.

You will always be everything to him.

Yet you couldn't help but feel a little left out of the welcome party, your throat feeling tight, eyes starting to fill with tears. You missed him soo much and he was still busy nuzzling into your tummy, but not busy enough to miss the whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Baby?" Bucky's head shot up as soon as he heard what sounded like a cry but it couldn't be. His eyes filled with worry when he saw your sweet fallen face, indeed crying and poorly hiding it. "Why are you crying angel, what happened, is everything okay?"

His mind started to run a hundred miles a minute, ready to swoop you away to the med wing when shook your head, another wave of tears pooling when he reached out to wipe your cheeks.

"It's silly" You shrug with a sniffle but Bucky isn't having it.

"Tell me what's wrong baby" his baby blues pled with you, waiting to fix what was wrong because why was his perfect angel sad.

"I didn't get a hello kiss" You say with a pout and Bucky found himself stuck between wanting to cry and loving you more.

"I'm sorry, mama" Bucky coos, scooping you right up into his arms, cupping your cheek and placing a kiss onto your nose. Then your forehead. "M'sorry" He places a gently kiss to your still pouted lips, repeatedly peppering kisses till he hears you giggle. "You deserve all the hello kisses angel"

"I thought you didn't miss me" You whisper with your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent, all the anxiety you felt with him gone washing away in an instant.

"I missed you more than you know, baby" His lips move against your hair, "How could I not miss the pretty girl I fell so in love with, you're it for me"

He kept you in his arms, his hand slipping up your shirt to rub your back, the simple action nearly lulling you to sleep. He picks you up with ease, deciding to run a bath because he doesn't want to be away from your side for another minute and he keeps himself glued to you the entire time. Your back is against his chest, his hands coming up to massage your tense shoulders, kissing down your neck. He doesn't let go when it's time to rinse off, standing with both hands over your tummy as the hot water cascades over you both. He gets you dried off with a nice fluff towel before taking you to bed to sleep, frowning when you shuffled around in discomfort.

"I think your little plum misses you" You giggled between a squeak as baby Bucky kicked in your tummy, refusing to sleep until he heard his daddy's voice say goodnight. You gave him a pointed look as Bucky grinned, shimmying down the bed to rest between your legs at eyelevel with your belly. "Come talk to your son please"

"Quit kicking your ma" Bucky whispered, his metal hand patting the area where his baby boys tiny feet caused a ruckus, "time to let mommy rest, plum"

"Unbelievable" you huffed as the kicking stopped immediately, your little one settling contently while you also got comfortable against Bucky's chest. "So in love with his daddy"

"He gets it from you" Bucky smiled down at your content form, already half asleep, snug in his arms, "Pretty angel"

[cherryrikis]

EVERYTHING BUT NOTHING

PAIRING football captain bf jake x fem reader

WARNINGS swearing, arguments, jake makes a singular joke about killing himself

GENRE angst

SYNOPSIS jake is just the nicest guy, everyone knows that. and he’s even sweeter as a boyfriend rather than an acquaintance. even after an argument, you could never stay mad at him for long. but you question that when you hear him talking about you after school.

read part 2 here ?

“are you gonna talk to jake? i know that argument was pretty intense, but you’ve gone a week with no contact.” yuna asked as she tilted her head, standing by your locker while she waited for you to grab your belongings.

“eventually, yeah. i was thinking today after school. the thing with jake though, he either shuts down, or acts like it never happened whenever i want to talk about an argument.” you sighed.

it’s true. as open as jake may appear to be, it’s all but factual. you could never have a real talk with your boyfriend, because he hated confrontation. avoided it entirely.

typically, you don’t let arguments get in the way of your relationship. especially since living together is hard if you’re having frequent conflicts. it wasn’t too much of a problem now though, since he’s been staying at jay’s. but when you brought up the fact that he’s been spending too much time at practice, and that he always forgets your dates, jake let it all out.

it shouldn’t have been as big of a problem as it was. you just wanted to talk. but he finally argued back.

“i get it. sohee is exactly the same! don’t stress though. i know jake is a good guy, he’ll come around.” she smiled. “now let’s go to class? passing period is almost over, and yizhuo has been saving our seats.”

the lecture seemed to go by faster than usual. you were nervous as you steadily approached jake’s locker, which was directly outside his last class.

but when you heard his oh too familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks. you felt your heart sink to the floor as your stomach dropped.

“god. guys, don’t ever get a girlfriend. i’m bounded to long walks on the beach and dinner dates till i die. y/n’s demanding too much of me. i might just kill myself one day.” jake sighed.

“okay but dude, your girlfriends cool and all yet she’s lowkey uptight.” you heard heeseung say as he slapped jake’s shoulder.

“yeah man, you’ve been missing too much practice for your dates now. coach is getting upset. i saw yours and y/n’s texts the other day, and she micromanages you a lot. blink twice if you need help.” sunghoon joked as the three of them laughed out loud.

“i know, i know. i love y/n, but i cannot with her lately. thank god jay let me crash at his after the argument, because i couldn’t live with her constant nagging. she’s so fucking annoying.” he snickered. but, all their faces fell once they saw you.

you slammed jake’s locker door shut with so much force, your hand turned bright red. him and sunghoon flinched harshly, while heeseung and jay had no reaction.

your face ran hot, you felt it as you tightly closed your eyes, holding back the urge to burst out crying. the glass tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

but one look at his desperate eyes filled with regret, and you tipped over the edge. your salty tears spilled out, past your lashes.

you sniffled as you continued to cry uncontrollably, staring at their flustered faces. jake reached out to wipe your face, but you pushed his hand away, wiping the tears yourself.

“you fucking asshole.” you whispered. “i came here to apologize. but you can’t leave it be.”

“y/n..” his eyes softened, voice faltering as his words were laced with regret and shame. he reached out for you once more, but you stepped back.

the distance between you two physically and emotionally only continued to grow. “baby, just let me talk. like you wanted.” he pleaded, begging, almost.

“i.. hate you.. how could you ever talk about me like that? i never once would even think about saying something like that about you, like you did me.” you scoffed, looking behind him as you finally realized his friends left the scene.

you watched as his eyes watered, with one last attempt of trying to reach you. but he knew you were untouchable in this moment.

“sweetheart?” he watched as you began to walk backwards, away from him.

but you didn’t let up, still hurt. you shook your head, silently telling him no.

with every step you took backwards, jake moved forward, before finally grabbing your wrists tightly so you can’t leave him.

“it costs nothing to be a sweet guy, like the version everyone sees of you. but it takes everything to be an asshole.” you mumble, before pushing him away, finally and surely leaving out the school’s glass doors.

and jake remained there, his regret suddenly transferred into anger. he kicked his locker, watching the metal rattle.

he hated how his such childish and immature words cost nothing yet everything.

“fuck..” he muttered.

“fuck!” jake said once more, but louder, yelling it out loud.

he watched out the window as you walked towards the parking lot, before getting into your car and leaving without a second thought.

“please don’t leave me.” he whispered as his vision turned blurry.

“please don’t leave me..”

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part five]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 3.1k

masterlist | sweet masterlist

It’s fleeting, the hardened look that passes over Azzi eyes. If Paige wasn’t so familiar with even the subtlest shifts in Azzi’s body language, she would’ve missed it. The squint of her eyes, the tenseness of her jaw; Azzi’s not just upset, she’s furious. And Paige has always felt bad for the people Azzi’s felt this way towards, the silent anger radiating off a face that was normally bright with a dimpled smile. She’s always thanked God that it was never her, that between them it’s always been a back and forth of shy smiles and blushes.

But now Azzi is staring at her as if she doesn’t even recognize her, and Paige is at an utter loss of what to do. “It’s always just sex with you, isn’t it?” Azzi says wryly. She pushes harshly away from Paige, wiping her neck, as if trying to erase the marks already bruising her skin. “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait, Azzi.” But Azzi ignores her, flipping to her side and pulling the sheets tight over her rigid body.

Paige knows there’s no use in arguing. It seems like hours that she stares at the ceilings, scared to even move. Tears gather at the corner of her eyes. Furious at herself, she scrubs them away. And she’s almost asleep, the physical and the mental exhaustion from the day creeping up on her, when she hears sniffles coming from the other side of the bed. And then Azzi is crying, and it takes everything in Paige to not turn around and take the other girl in her arms.

Azzi makes it a point to ignore her the entire time during rehab the next day and on the drive home. As soon as they return to Storrs, she locks herself in her room with Micaela, making it clear that she wants nothing to do with Paige.

But after a week of sleepless nights, Paige has had enough. She can’t stand the thought of living in a world where Azzi can’t even bear to look at her. Knowing Azzi won’t respond to any of her texts or calls, she takes it upon herself to check her apartment, but the younger girl’s room is empty, looking a little bare. Confused, she runs to Werth and checks the gym, the media room, and finally the kitchen, only to find Amari and Caroline the only ones there. “Where’s Azzi?”

Amari and Caroline exchange concerned looks. “She left,” Amari says gently. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Left?” Paige’s head spins. “Where’d she go?”

“Back to Virginia. She said she’s gonna finish out her rehab there.”

“What? Did she tell you guys?”

Amari looks at her, worried. “She told all of us last week, the day y’all came back from New York. We thought you knew?”

The day they came back from New York. “Fuck. How long is she gone for?”

“Probably past the end of season, maybe even the end of the semester,” Amari says, her eyes rounding in worry as she observes Paige’s increasingly frantic state.

“Fuck,” Paige repeats, massaging her temples. “She left and she didn’t even tell me?”

“You kinda deserve it,” Caroline says pointedly, always Azzi’s biggest defender.

Paige tries to muster up a glare at the brunette, but she’s exhausted, and she knows she has no one to blame but herself. “Yeah, I know,” she finally mutters dejectedly.

“So what’re you gonna do?” Amari questions.

Paige slumps into a chair beside them, kicking at the leg of the table. “I don’t fucking know. She doesn’t even wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Then make her.”

“What?”

“Go to Virginia. Apologize and make things right,” Caroline says, her voice hard. “I’m sick and tired of hearing you two pine over each other.”

In a daze, Paige walks the entire way back to her apartment. By the time she unlocks the door, she’s already bought a plane ticket for the same night. She startles when hands touch her shoulder and spin her around. “What’s up? You look pale.”

“Azzi went back home,” Paige responds distractedly, tapping at her screen as she texts Tim asking if he can pick up her from the airport.

“Home?” Ella laughs. “Well, she finally listened.”

That gets Paige’s attention. Looking up from her phone, she squints. “What?”

“I asked her to give you space,” Ella cocks her head. “She said she would, but you guys went to fucking rehab together last week. But now she’s gone, so I guess she really did listen.”

A knot of something painful starts to form at the base of Paige’s head. “You- what? Why the fuck would you ask my best friend to give me space?” she demands.

“Dude, you’re always so fucked up worrying about her. Even now, you look like you just fainted.” Ella regards her coldly. “Excuse me for wanting us to go on one date without you thinking of her.”

When Paige stares at her, her mouth agape, Ella steps even closer, wrapping a hand around her bicep. “Come on,” she purrs. “We can have so much fun now that’s she gone.”

“We’re over.” Ella has the audacity to look surprised.

Paige grabs her purse from the coffee table and pushes it roughly into her chest, causing the girl to stumble back. “Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Paige is already in her room by the time the door slams shut. She stuffs things haphazardly into her backpack as her mind reels. Azzi had left. Azzi had thought Paige didn’t care about her. The mere thought of Azzi thinking she could ever be a burden makes Paige feel sick with fury. God, she had said all those things to Azzi, just for her best friend to think she was doing her a favor?

••

“Thank you for picking me up on such short notice.” Paige fiddles nervously with the straps of her backpack. “I’m not sure if coming here was a good idea but-”

“Paige,” Tim interrupts her train of thought, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “You know you’re always welcome. But, just a warning…Azzi might not be the happiest that you’re here. But give her some time, and she’ll cool down. She always does.” Tim’s unwavering confidence should give Paige a boost of the same energy, but it only shakes her up more. Everyone’s expecting them to make up like they always do after every petty fight, but what if they can’t make it through? What if this is it? Paige has never fucked up like this, never hurt Azzi so much that the younger girl felt the need to put multiple states between the two of them.

When Tim pulls into the driveway, Paige asks for a moment. The older man gives her a comforting hug before heading up to the house first, giving her space. Taking a deep breath to try and calm her racing heartbeat, she fluffs up the flowers, attempting to make them look prettier. She adjusts and readjusts the envelope placed in the middle of the petals. She runs her hands through her hair and scrubs at the stain at her sweater but to no avail. Paige is going to apologize to Azzi, and she’s going to make it right. Rolling her shoulders, she steps out of the car and marches to the front door.

Before she can even reach for the handle, the door swings open. Paige blinks.

“You’re here,” Jon sighs in relief, throwing his body at her. Paige balks for a moment before returning the hug.

“Were you watching me?”

Jon smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, but you were taking so long. Why were you looking in the mirror so much? You look fine.”

Paige blushes and pushes him away. “Stop stalking me.”

Jon beams at her again, before his smile drops suddenly. “Uh, just so you know, her girlfriend’s here too.”

And just like that, all the confidence Paige has spent the last fifteen minutes gathering disappears. Paige clears her throat, not sure if she heard him right. “Micaela’s here?”

“They were calling for a long time yesterday night. And she showed up this morning.” Jon pauses, looking at her meaningfully. “With a suitcase.” Then his smile is back, just as bright as it was before. “I talked to her a bit. She’s cool. But you’re Paige.” He pushes her towards the staircase. “Go.”

Azzi’s door is opened a crack, and Paige peeks through. Micaela and Azzi are on her bed, Azzi snuggled in her arms. They’re watching something on the TV. Micaela kisses the top of Azzi’s head, and Azzi looks up at her and laughs.

Fuck. Paige can’t do this. She backs away from the door. Micaela, she treats her so well. She puts Azzi first. And Micaela hasn’t hurt Azzi like Paige has. This is the biggest Paige has seen Azzi smile in months - her best friend is finally happy.

In that moment Paige decides that she needs to let Azzi go. She sets her bouquet of flowers down outside the room as quietly as possible. She takes the envelope, crumples it up and puts it in her pocket. She was stupid for ever thinking that flowers and a letter would make up for all the shit she’s put Azzi through.

“Where are you going?” Paige is halfway out the front door when a firm voice stops her.

“Home.”

“Come in and close the door.” Paige wants to tell Katie that she isn’t her mother and that she has no right to tell her what to do. But Katie has been there for her when her own mother hasn’t, has welcomed her into her home for months at a time and still checks up on her every week over text. So she closes the door and faces the older woman, unable to look at the eyes so similar to the ones she’s fallen in love with.

Katie beckons for her to sit, and she follows suit. “As her mother, I don’t think I’m supposed to say this,” Katie says slowly. “But don’t give up, Paige.”

“She’s literally sitting in there with her girlfriend.” Paige’s bottom lip trembles. “I’m too fucking late, and I can’t even blame anyone but myself.”

“I know it feels like there’s no solution. But-”

“With all respect, you don’t understand, Katie.” Paige cuts her off. “I don’t think we can ever go back to the way we were.”

“And that’s the problem. You’re so focused on trying to return back to normal but is that what you really want? Maybe it’s good you guys can’t ever be the same again. Maybe it’s good you two take the risk to become something more.”

Paige stands up, resolute this time as she reaches for her duffel. “I can’t,” she says. “I can’t ruin this for her.”

“Stay,” Katie urges. “If not for Azzi, at least for yourself. I just checked the weather. There’s going to be a blizzard. It’s not safe for you to travel.”

Paige is about to open her mouth to protest before a familiar voice rings out. “Mom?” Azzi bounds down the stairs, a smile on her face. Micaela is close behind, reaching for her waist and laughing. But then Azzi’s eyes shift to where Katie’s looking, and she sees Paige. Her face drops immediately, and the action is enough to send Paige’s stomach hurdling. “Paige?”

Paige lifts a hand, forcing a weak smile onto her face. “Hey.”

Katie glances between the two of them. “Azzi, sweetie, Paige is here to stay for a few days,” she says lightly.

Azzi scoffs, disbelief etched onto her face. “Like hell she is.” She walks up to Paige, jabbing a finger in her face. “You can’t just show up at my house and expect everything to be fine, you asshole.”

“She can’t go home right now,” Katie says gently. “The snow’s six feet thick outside. It’s not safe.”

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Micaela says softly, grabbing Azzi’s wrist in an effort to calm her down. “Let’s go, Az.”

Paige burns. No one calls Azzi that but her. Azzi glares at Paige one last time before following her girlfriend back upstairs. Katie’s eyes follow them, worried, until she heaves a sigh and faces Paige again. “Come on, hon,” she says. “You can stay in the guest room.”

Before now, Paige has never stepped foot in the guest room. It’s always gone without saying that whenever she stayed over, Azzi’s room became hers. Their clothes would mix in heaps on the floor until Paige would return home with a suitcase full of items half hers, half Azzi’s. The scent of lavender in the room would, for a few weeks, be overtaken by the more woodsy scent of Paige’s cologne. Now, the guest room is clean and airy, and it smells like lilacs.

Paige doesn’t like it.

But she sets her stuff down and texts the group chat to let them know she won’t be home for a few days.

Dinner is a silent affair, with Tim trying but failing to crack jokes to lighten the mood. Paige occupies herself with Jon and Jose, asking them about their basketball season and school, while Azzi talks in low tones to Micaela from across the table.

Paige is picking at the food on her plate when Micaela’s voice brings her out of her thoughts. “So, Paige, how long are you here for?”

Paige swallows her broccoli a little bit too quickly and coughs. “However long it takes for the storm to die down and my flight to clear.”

“And what were you here for?”

To finally confess to your girlfriend that I’m in love with her. Paige stabs another broccoli with her fork. “Just had some stuff to do in the area.”

“No use paying for a hotel when we have an extra room here,” Katie pitches in, saving her from having to lie even more. And while it’s clear neither Micaela or Azzi believe her, they don’t prod any further, leaving Paige to finish her food in silence.

••

“Can’t sleep?”

Paige turns around, surprised to see Micaela standing there, her expression clear. She leans back against the counter, tipping back her drink. “Something like that.”

“Mind if I join?”

Paige’s first instinct is to say no, but she realizes with a start that this is the girl Azzi loves. And if Azzi loves her, and she loves Azzi, there must be some part of her that can get along with Micaela. So she nods. “There’s grenadine and lemonade in the fridge.”

Micaela rummages through the fridge before returning with a concoction of her own. They stand in silence for a while, each of them sipping their own drinks, until Micaela says, “I’m not stupid. I know something happened between the two of you when you went to New York.”

Paige stares down at her glass, tracing its rim with her thumb. “Look,” she finally responds. “I fucked up with Azzi. I hurt her, a lot. I didn’t wanna come to terms with my feelings because I was a pussy. But don’t make that same mistake. I see you with her,” Paige pauses. “And she looks like how she used to. Before her injury. And if you’re the one who can bring her back to that, then I’m gonna help you.”

Micaela nods, taking everything in. “You still love her.”

“I don’t think I’ve admitted that to myself yet.” Paige finishes off her drink. “She was - is my best friend before anything else. I know that she knows I’ll die for her even if we never end up talking again. And I think I can be okay with that. That as long as she knows that I have her back, that there’s someone who’s always on her side, then I’ll be fine.”

Micaela tilts her head, studying her carefully. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Paige turns away, her eyes burning. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Azzi.”

••

Paige stays true to her word. She sends Micaela Azzi’s rehab schedule and at-home therapy treatments. She carefully compiles a list of her comfort movies and shows and texts them to Micaela. When Azzi has a particularly rough day at rehab, Paige spends the entire time she’s gone building a pillow fortress on the couch in the basement. When Azzi’s in a mood, she likes feeling like a child again - it makes her worries a little smaller, a little easier to deal with. So Paige lays out blankets, fluffs up pillows, and buys popcorns and caprisuns from the store.

When Azzi comes home and hugs Micaela, raving about how cute it is and how much she appreciates it, Paige lingers near the stairs of the basement. The sound of Azzi’s giggles, even if not aimed at her, put a smile on her face.

She looks up as Tim passes by. He fixes her with a stern look. “Just so you know, I don’t approve of anything you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Paige tries to look innocent.

“You’re only going to hurt yourself doing this, Paige,” he warns.

Paige bites down on her lip, the skin there already tender from all her worrying. “As long as she’s happy,” she says stubbornly.

“Stop hiding,” he says lowly. “Show her you love her.”

But Paige can’t.

So she continues to love Azzi from afar. She makes sure there’s always multiple ice packs in the freezer. She prays every night before bed that God will take Azzi’s pain away and speed up her recovery process. She texts Azzi’s old high school friends, letting them know she’s back in town and to drop by to say hello when they can.

It’s 12 am and she’s cutting up strawberries when she hears steps and heavy breathing from behind her. Turning around, she’s surprised to see Azzi glowering at her.

“I found out.”

“Found out what?” Paige’s mouth is dry. This is the first time Azzi’s addressed her directly since the day she arrived, and to say she’s nervous is an understatement.

“Everything.” Azzi clenches her jaw. “The pillow fortress? The ice packs? The fucking strawberries you’re cutting that will magically end up in my lunch bag with Nutella tomorrow?”

Paige drops the knife on the counter, as if that would make her look any less guilty.

“Why do you have to make things complicated?” Azzi says, her voice hoarse as if she’s been crying. “I think I’m finally over you and then you show up to my house and you start making me feel things for you that I shouldn’t feel.”

Paige takes a cautious step forward. “Why can’t you feel them?”

“I have a girlfriend. And aren’t you scared? Right now we can still go back to being us. We can be friends. But this-” Azzi’s voice cracks. “We’ve caused each other so much pain and we’ve never even been together that way. Imagine if we actually dated and we broke up. God, Paige, that would fucking wreck me. At least when we’re friends I can rest with the fact that you’ll always be there somehow.”

“So you don’t even wanna try?” Paige’s tone is incredulous.

“Do you have any idea how much power you have over me?” Azzi chokes out.

Paige closes her eyes briefly. “I would never hurt you.”

“How can you say that?” Tears leak from Azzi’s eyes. “How can you say that when you already have?”

“Azzi.” She reaches for her hand. “Let us try. You know - you know I love you? I know I’ve been an ass, and I’ve fucked up over and over again. But I can’t-”

“Stop.” Azzi shakes her off, walking backwards as if even being near Paige is physically hurting her. “Please don’t make this hurt more then it has to.” She crosses her arms over her chest, withdrawing into herself as she shivers. “I thought I finally found it. Micaela - she’s perfect. Was perfect. Doing all these things that only one person before has ever done for me. Then we get into an argument and I find out that you’re behind all this shit? That my girlfriend has been lying through her teeth this entire time? God. When am I ever gonna find someone that actually cares about me?”

“Azzi, I just need one chance. Please.” Paige watches Azzi back away, and every fiber in her being is screaming at her best friend to stop running away her. “I care about you. And I found out what Ella said. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Fucking hell, you’ve never been a burden to me, Azzi. How could you ever think that?”

“It’s not gonna work out, Paige. It won’t.”

“So that’s it?” Paige spreads her arms, lets then fall helplessly by her side. “You’re just gonna give up before we even try? Like a fucking coward?”

“You have no right calling me a coward,” Azzi laughs bitterly. “Not when you used me for sex and dipped whenever the conversation got too serious.”

“You’re the one who always left first, not me,” Paige grits out through her teeth. “You’re the one who suggested being friends with benefits. You are just as much guilty as I am.”

“Well, I regret it.” Azzi’s words come tumbling out before she can stop them. “I regret everything.”

“You regret everything?” Paige repeats back, shaking her head in disbelief. “I might be an asshole, but you’re even worse than I am. I can’t even believe you right now.”

“Go home.” Azzi turns her back, and her body shudders, as if she’s sobbing. “I don’t want you here. You should’ve never came.”

“Gladly,” Paige spits out. “I fucking hate you for this.” And as she stands there, chest heaving with the arrows she’s thrown, chest hurting with the hurt of everything said and unsaid, she knows that she’s lying. That she could never hate Azzi, as much as she tried. But everything hurts too fucking bad, and Azzi is looking at her as if she’s the worst thing in the world. And when Paige goes home and looks at herself in the mirror, she thinks that maybe Azzi isn’t too far off.

••

Azzi walks into the guest room. She lies on the bed, inhaling the faint scent of Paige still lingering in the air. She turns on her side, burrowing her face into one of the pillows when she hears something crinkle. Confused, she reaches into the bedsheets and finds a worn, crumpled card. Her heart skips a beat when she flattens it out and sees familiar handwriting scrawled messily across the paper.

Dear Azzi,

I talk a lot. But I think you know me well enough that I show my feelings best through actions, not words. I’ve said hurtful things to you. I don’t know how to verbalize myself in a way that makes sense.

But I care about our relationship, so I’m writing this letter to try and finally put into words correctly the way I feel about you, because it’s the least you deserve - something honest, and something real from me. I know if I try to say this all in person, I’ll fuck it up somehow. So here is my letter, to you, that I’ll probably read and rewrite a million times.

I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. But I do. And I know now that no one has ever made me feel what you do.

I know now that you were frustrated with me because you thought I never saw you beyond a friend with benefits. But I swear that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve hurt you with, was because I was trying to protect myself from the pain of realizing that you have always been more than just a friend. It has never been because I saw it as “just sex.” I saw it as more, I wanted it as more, and I was too immature to deal with it in a way that was kind to you. I’ll regret that forever.

I have never not loved you. I don’t think I will ever stop loving every single thing about you. And I keep repeating myself, but I really am sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you everything that you deserve, but still, I want to try. Hence why I’m coming here like a sap with all the flowers and shit tryna win you back.

But if somehow everything goes wrong and we never end up speaking again, just know that I’ll think about you every night before I sleep, just like I do now. Just know that I’ll always give us a second chance. I think we are inevitable. (I hope i spelled that right)

And if hopefully everything goes right and you forgive me and I somehow am able to be a part of your life after everything, then I promise I’ll work every day to show that I am serious about us. No other person, no other distractions, nothing else. Just you.

But no matter what happens, whatever decision you choose, as long as you’re happy, I’ll find a way to be happy.

Love,

Paige

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader -> pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[burrowdarling]

Always

Summary: After another tough loss in Week 5 to the Baltimore Ravens, Joe wants nothing more than to come home to you.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x gf!reader

Warnings: none

Note: Hi! This is my first time writing in a while so this may be a little rough. After the loss yesterday I want nothing more than to hold this man.

Word Count: 890

Check out my Masterlist here!

You were on the edge of your seat watching from home as each team was trading touchdowns back and forth for the entire game, sending the game into overtime. Everything was looking good, up until Evan went for the kick, the ball getting tripped up in the process, completely missing the posts. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

You saw the camera flash to Joe, hanging his head and a look of defeat on his face. You could feel his disappointment from where you were standing in your shared living room, knowing he needed this win more than the last. The past few weeks have been tough on him, the tension spilling into your dynamic together at home. Last week’s win was a great lift in spirits, but Joe still had his head down maintaining his focus to strive for more.

When Joe came on for his post-game interview, you knew it was going to be a tough watch. You could see the pain in his feature as he was being asked question after question from the reporters, looking exhausted trying to hold his composure. One in particular asked about each game having slim point differences and how that would translate to the end of the season. 

“We’re not a championship level team right now, we’re not. I’d like to think that you know, we’ll come back and improve throughout the season to get to that point, but right now we’re not and we have to get better” Joe answered, his voice showing his frustration and disappointment.

It absolutely broke your heart to hear him talk about himself the way that he was, bearing the fullness of the loss on his shoulders. You were both nervous and excited for him to come home. Wanting nothing more than to hold him close, but you knew the type of mood he would most likely be in.

Your phone pinged, the familiar sound of Joe’s text tone ringing through the silence.

On my way, I need you

The short message an indicator that after weeks of stress and struggles, he was seeking out your comfort. You typed out a quick reply and got to work before Joe got home. You spent the little time you had picking things up and getting dinner ready, whipping up his favorite comfort food.

About 30 minutes later, you heard the garage open and shut, followed by Joe shuffling in through the door. He kicked off his shoes with his head hung low. When he looked up, locking his sights on you, you could tell tears were welling up in his eyes, trying so hard to hold his composure. 

He took a few steps into the kitchen, the pain in his features becoming more prominent the more distance he closed between you too. You opened up your arms and he fell into your embrace, the dam holding back everything from the past few weeks of losses pouring out like a flood gate.

The two of you just stood there in the kitchen for a while letting time pass, slowing rocking Joe back and forth while he cried in your arms. Once the cries became sniffles, Joe pulled back and look at you with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You moved your arms from around him, bringing your hands to caress his cheeks, wiping away any remains of tears. 

“If only I had just done better and-“ you cut him off, not letting him bring himself down any further.

“You did everything you absolutely could have Joey. You put your entire soul onto that field and you know it”. 

Joe sighed and rested his forehead against your shoulder leaning down to reach you, letting his hands fall and rest lazily on your lower back.

“It’s just been so hard recently, it feels like whatever I’m doing isn’t enough and everyone is expecting me to do it all” Joe mumbled into your neck.

Your hands went to his hair, fingers massaging his scalp and tangling in the ends at the nape of his neck. 

“I want you to know that you are enough and that I know you’re trying your hardest, your fans know, and they only want to see you succeed. Reporters are gonna try their best to get the juiciest details from others defeat”.

You could see the tension begin to leave his body as he let his shoulders, lifting his eyes to meet yours. Joe scooped you up, placing you on the nearest countertop so you could be more level with one another.

“Thank you for always being there for me and being rock when I can’t for myself”. Joe said giving you a warm smile as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll always be your biggest supporter and cheerleader no matter what, it’s us against the world bug. I got your favorite ready for you on the stove. Why don’t we settle in on the couch and eat hm? I bet you’re hungry”.

“Starving, thank you, baby. Speaking of cheerleader, we should get you one of those uniforms sometime” Joe smirked, raising his eyebrows.

“There’s the Joey I know, I bet we could work something out” you laugh playing along, pulling him in for another hug. You were someone he could come home to always.

Thank you so much for reading, please send in any requests or comments. I hope you enjoyed!

[indulgentdaydream]

Comparisons Pt.2

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,730

Part 1

Warnings: insecurities (reader). Bad self esteem (reader). Criticizing oneself in the mirror (reader). Black eye (jason)

Have at ‘er guys.

The first thing you did once you got back into your apartment was throw your bag on the floor. The next thing you did was slump back against the door and slowly slid your way down until you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest, head tucked into your folded arms.

Your eyes had been burning the entire walk back. Your throat was tight and especially your lungs from how fast you had power-walked.

Now that you were out of the public eye, you let the tears finally fall after trying so hard to hold them back.

Thank the crime for Gotham’s low rent. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it to your bedroom to hide your oncoming sobs if you had been living with roommates.

You were exhausted. You felt entirely stupid, too. As if you weren’t enough for Jason. Artemis had everything. Everything you didn’t and more.

You were beginning to think he had settled for you.

You knew he could pull attractive women. Could pull damn gorgeous women. He was entirely handsome himself, even though he never saw it.

Nearly every time you two were out he would have people coming up to him. Flirting with him. Asking for his number. Even when you were right there, his arm around your shoulders or your waist. Or if he was alone because you had gone to the bathroom. That was when they came out of the woodworks the most. It’s like even they could tell you were subpar for him.

The thing is: Jason would never even look at them. No matter how long they stood there. Usually, when he had ignored them for long enough and was getting annoyed, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure they had left.

You couldn’t even explain why you felt like this. Jason had done nothing to prove that he didn’t love you.

But if Artemis, someone Jason had very possibly loved before you, was still in his life… what chance did you have at being allowed to stay?

Another sob left your throat. You were never in Jason’s league. Why ever pretend? Especially for this long?

You had overstayed your welcome.

Your phone buzzed in your bag. A call coming through. You sniffled, as you pulled it out of your tote.

Jason’s profile was displayed across the screen. A picture you had taken of him when you had dragged him out to the park a few months ago. You were both smiling at the camera as you took a picture. You had thought he looked so handsome in it. A soft smile, kind eyes looking a little off from the camera, the sun basking him in a sweet early spring glow. You had never liked the way you looked in that photo. When you made it his contact, you had cropped yourself out.

You frowned as your phone kept ringing. You didn’t want to deal with him right now. You set the phone on the ground in front of you, face up, letting it go to voicemail.

Your phone went black again. You started feeling a little guilty. Then, seconds later, it rang again.

You didn’t pick up. Even despite the guilt that began to chew at your stomach lining.

That call only rang four times before ending again.

A minute. Then a text message.

Jason: Just tell me whether or not you made it home, baby. Please?

You stared at it for a moment.

Another text.

Jason: I’m coming by soon either way. We’re talking about this.

You frown. He sounded mad.

Your head pounded lightly. A headache from how hard you’d been crying.

Maybe he was coming here to break up with you.

You’d obviously been delusional the past few weeks. Jason was using a case as an excuse to distant himself from you. To get familiar with Artemis again.

That had to be it.

Another text.

Jason: I know you’re seeing these, love.

Screw him. Screw him and his perfect grammar. And his stupid pet names.

You picked up your phone, opening the messages. You send back a simple “Home.” Before closing your phone again, placing it on the ground.

Jason: Thank you. See you soon.

Tears burned at your eyes again, but you swallowed them back.

You pushed yourself off the floor. No point in letting him see you, huddled in a heap of despair, still in your food splattered work clothes. Making your way to your bedroom, you began to change out of your work clothes. You automatically reached for the grey t shirt hanging off the post at the end of the bed, but hesitated. You stared at it. The far too big for you, men’s t shirt that was worn around the collar and smelled so much like Jason.

Your hand hovered over it before you stepped away.

He’d probably be wanting it back after this.

You stepped towards your dresser, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You hate it.

You can’t even see yourself as yourself anymore.

You stand there, picking yourself apart bit by bit. Rifling. Dissecting. Looking to find something good, something likeable, until you’ve tossed every part into the “discard” bin of your mind.

You can’t even do anything about it. All your tears are gone. You simply hang your head as you step into your sweatpants and slip on your t shirt.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to climb under the covers. Not bothering to shower.

The sun was still shining in, reminding you of how you were wasting such a beautiful day.

Your mind was working against you. Coming up with reasons for why Jason would be with you. Why he would have done everything that he had ever done with you if he didn’t love you.

The most prominent reason was that he was just taking pity on you. He had the time on his hands to do a favour for the lonely, ugly girl because he had broken up with his gorgeous amazonian warrior girlfriend. He couldn’t be giving out favours anymore now that he had her back.

You laid there on your side, arms hugging yourself. You realized you weren’t out of tears. They continued slip out of your eyes and pool to the pillow below you. The occasional sob leaving you when your mind concocted something else outrageous.

You don’t know how long you laid there for.

In the silence of your apartment, you could hear the lock of your front door click before the door swung open.

You tensed, arms hugging yourself as you laid on your side, back to the door.

You heard Jason slip off his boots, the steel toes he always wore clattering against the floor, signalling his arrival.

Padded footsteps followed, moving down the short hallway. Then the creak of your bedroom door behind you that had already been ajar.

Jason’s voice was soft as he called your name, “You’re not asleep, are ya?”

You simply glanced back at him over your shoulder, twisting. He took up the whole frame. He was dressed the same as earlier. Dark blue jeans, dark grey shirt with a faded brewery logo on it, and his leather jacket that he hadn’t bothered to take off at the door. His sunglasses were gone, showing off the fresh black eye that you hadn’t seen. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

Who brings flowers to someone when they’re about to leave them?

You laid your head back down without another word.

More footsteps. The bed dipped behind you, Jason’s weight settling on the mattress, sitting in the crook where your knees bent.

A beat passed before he sighed, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

His hand reaches down to brush away the hair that was covering your face. The second his fingers brush over your cheek, you flinched back.

Jason draws his hand back, “Talk to me. I know how your mind gets, baby. What happened today?”

You stared straight ahead of you, towards the window Jason would often use to enter your apartment in the middle of night, the sunlight shining through. “Are you going to break up with me?”

Jason’s answer was quick. Honest. “No. Never.”

You should’ve felt more relaxed, but you didn’t. You just felt more stupid, “Did you love her?”

Jason paused, “Artemis?”

You nod.

Jason shifted on the bed, bringing more of his weight onto it before answering, “I thought I did. When I was with her. But… no.” Another pause. “You taught me what love was.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew Jason loved you.

You felt horrible. began to cry again, your voice cracking.

You just… you just needed to make sure, “Are you only with me because— because you pity me?”

“What?” Jason’s hands were suddenly on your shoulders, turning you onto your back. His fingers brushed your hair back and cupped your face. “Of course not!” You met his gaze for a moment through a haze of unshed tears. You’d never seen him more worried. More concerned. More… heartbroken at your words.

His eyes drift to the wet patches on your pillow, then back to your face. He takes in your red eyes and red nose. “Baby… have you been crying over this? Thinking I was going to leave you?”

You look away from him without answering. A silent “yes”.

Jason sighs lightly, “Because of Artemis?” His thumbs begin to stroke your cheeks, “She was just giving me some papers for a shipment. She owed me a favour from a long time ago.”

“How long were you with her?”

“Eight months,” he said, though there was a flit of a questioning tone at the end of it. He corrected himself, “Nine.”

“Why have you never talked about her?” You see him frown, his eyes shutting for a moment. You feel your face burn from embarrassment at all your questions.

Jason takes a breath, “That relationship… wasn’t a good one. It was my second real one, ever.” He shrugs, “It was built off of shared trauma, I guess. Once the Outlaws disbanded we didn’t really have much of a reason to stick around one another.” He pauses. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d even consider it a real relationship. More of a fling.”

There’s a beat. You still don’t look at him.

“You know I love you,” he says. You bite deep into the inside of your cheek. “You know I love you… right?” His words sound so distraught at the idea of him making you feel unloved.

A small breath left your lungs. “I know.” Tears spill over as you talk, your arms still wrapped around yourself, hands squeezing the flesh of your biceps, “But that could’ve been an easy hand over. Five minutes.” You tried taking a deep breath, “Why… why make time to go and have coffee with your ex when you can’t even make time for me?”

Jason cursed quietly under his breath. Your face crumpled, but you tried for keep it together. “She wanted to.” Jason said. “Trust me. I didn’t. But I need that information.” He shuffled more onto the bed, hovering over you. “You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you walking past. You were like some angel coming from heaven. I’m serious.”

The moment replayed in your mind. Your bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably as you remembered his consistent frown every time he had looked at you.

“Then why—“ your voice hitched with a small sob. “You only smiled at her. You just started nitpicking me the second she left. Started when— when she was still there.”

Jason sighed again, his eyes shutting, “I know. I was acting like an asshole. I know. I’m sorry.” He leaned his face closer to yours, thumbs swipes away your tears. “I just get so worried about you sometimes.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sniffle again, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jason mumbled against your forehead before leaning back. “I’m sorry, baby. I was already ticked off that I was wasting time with her.”

You squirmed lightly, still hugging yourself, “I’m still sorry. I know you love me. I do trust you. I just—“

Jason shook his head, “No. Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have had coffee with her. I should’ve been picking you up from work.” He moved his hands to gentle grasp onto your hands, “Come on. Sit up for me, yeah?”

You followed his instructions, sitting up, crossing your legs in front of you. Jason grabbed a tissue from your bedside table, handing it to you to blow your nose. You felt like asking whether the case he was working was real or not. You decided against it, realizing his black eye should be proof enough.

Jason brushed your hair back as you blew your nose, clearing your face. “Why did you think I’m with you because I pity you, love?”

You look away, shameful, “Because… because you’re the first guy to ever ask me out.” You shrug lightly, “And… and no one else was wanting to. And I just…” You sniffle again. Jason takes your old tissue and hands you a new one, his other hand on your knee, his thumb stroking the side of it gently. “I saw how pretty she is and—”

“Not as pretty as you,” he gave you a soft smile, lifting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You gave no reaction.

Jason paused, “…do you not think you’re pretty?”

You try and turn your face away again, shrugging, “I’m just so far out of your league. She’s not.”

“Damn right you’re out of my league,” Jason laughed softly, grasping onto your shoulders as they fell in defeat.

Finally. You thought. He realizes. This is it. This is—

He took one hand and tilted your chin until you were looking at him again. “Love, you’re leagues above me. You hear me? I’m serious. I’m so lucky to have someone as sweet and caring as you.”

You begin to shake your head. Jason firmly yet painlessly pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, stopping you. He begins to nod your head. Up and down. Forcing you to agree with him.

He presses his thumb into your bottom lip. He pulls it down and back up over and over again, mimicking speech as if you were some puppet. He pitched up his voice and octave, “Yes, Jason! I’m the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen!”

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at your lips. You pull his hand away and hold it with both of your own as you place a kiss to it.

Jason grins, tilting his face down to yours, “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m sorry for thinking you were going to leave me for her…”

Jason smiles softly, “No more apologies. I know how your mind is.” He tilts his chin up and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Evil mind.” He mutters against it, making you giggle.

You hum lightly, leaning into his touch. “What happened to your eye?”

Jason scoffed lightly, “Some thug last night. My helmet was already broken. He got a good right hook in.”

You smile up at him. You sit up straighter, pressing a feather light kiss to the edge of the bruising.

Jason hums in satisfaction, “Thank you, baby.” He smiles again, looking back at you. “What do you want to do now? You’ve got me until nine.”

You perks up, “Nine? But it's already four! Don't you have to read those papers? Don’t you have to—“

Jason smiled and shook his head, cutting you off, "Already did. I just have to intercept that shipment tonight and then you'll have me all day tomorrow, too. I’ve got nothing else but time to spend with my girl.”

Your smile grows a little wider, "Really?"

Jason nods, "I promise."

You play with his fingers as you think it over. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, picking up each digit and curling them and straightening them again, "Can we go for a ride?"

Jason grins, "Course, love. Where's your helmet?"

AHHH!! Hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | smutty stuff | part 4 | part 5

"how would you react if i came to your world?"

the question caught you off guard. "where is this coming from?" you ask. "nothing, just wondering," he replies, although you didn't exactly believe him. sure, you hoped he would, but it wasn't realistic.

"now that you ask, i don't think i would be ready," you reply honestly. you don't notice the way his expression drops. "i would be surprised in a good way, of course. but i don't think it's realistic."

"hm," and with that, he remains quiet the entire time. you ask him questions and he replies normally, but he never initiated the conversation for a while.

the next day, he suddenly calls out to you while you were eating. "y/n, i'll be busy for a while. i have some things to take care of," he says, leaving without giving you a chance to reply. strange.

the next few weeks after that were incredibly gloomy. everything happened so fast, you didn't have time to process it. and everything ended even quicker that you didn't get to enjoy the time you had with him. your game wasn't working anymore. caleb wouldn't reply to your texts on the weird number he texted you from. and college kept getting more stressful.

it wasn't until you got some time to yourself after a hectic week. you waltzed into your living room and before you could reach the sofa, you fell onto your knees. after days of holding it in, you realized how much toll it took on your body.

you cupped your face as you tried to stop the burning tears which threatened to come out. soon, those tears turned into painful sobs. you cried out, trying to breath in but your chest was hurting. you missed him so much and you didn't even realize it until now.

caleb had become such a common part of your life in the past six months to the point that his absence feels like you lost a part of yourself. "get it together," you scold yourself, voice quivering as you sobbed uncontrollably. 'what did i do wrong?' you ask yourself.

'everything seemed fine, so what happened now?' the question looming over your mind the entire night till you were too tired and passed out from exhaustion on the floor.

when you woke up after your breakdown, it was around 1 am in the morning. and you slowly started resenting caleb for it. he got you hooked and suddenly left you with no explanations whatsoever.

a notification pops up on your screen, and you were so not in the mood for it. but you decided to reply to it anyway.

ne-andy-thal 👅

babe

you wont believe what just happened

pls wake up i miss u alresdy

plsplsplsplspls

actually ill text u tomorrow morning

i heard the engineering department busted their asses off and roped in other deps too, are u doing alright?

anyways, love u sleep well sorry for disturbing u <3

bitch you just saw my message

answer me tf???

you

hey

i'm not in the mood rn andy

ne-andy-thal 👅

rude??

you

sorry, i'm just going through some stuff

ne-andy-thal 👅

is everything ok bby? what happened??

you

no, things just took a turn and everything is spiralling outta my control

ne-andy-thal 👅

i have some news that might distract u if u wanna listen

its pretty big news

and u wont believe me at first but i have proof too

you

go on

ne-andy-thal 👅

can i come over for this?

ill bring over some ice cream for u to wallow

i have cookies and cream

you

please?

andy bae, did i ever tell you how much i love and cherish you?

ne-andy-thal 👅

never before 😒

but ill accept it now

cuz im such a great friend

you

💋💋💋

ne-andy-thal 👅

ewwww 🤢🤮

you

asshole

come over quick

"you will not fucking believe what just happened," andy comes in with a bang on your front door. you wince at the noise. "honey, calm down, it's 2 am in the fucking morning," you warn before pulling him to your side and hugging him. his warmth giving you the much needed comfort.

"aw my baby, are you alright?" he asks while rubbing your back. you sniffle and answer, "no, everything sucks."

"distract me?" you ask. "alright, yes. so basically, you know the game we play, right?" his words make you frown, remembering caleb. you nod, trying to not let it affect you.

"so, sylus is....sentient," he says with enthusiasm in his tone, completely contradicting your indifferent state. "why are you not excited?" he asks with a glare. "i- well, you know how i just had a breakdown?" you begin, watching him nod.

"that was because there was this whole fiasco where caleb became self aware six months ago, and now he left without saying a word or two," you continue, watching as andy goes through a spectrum of emotions.

"wha- wait, what?!" he gasps loudly, making you wince. "too loud, babe," you say. "right, sorry. but you didn't even care to tell me? your best friend?" his glare intensifies. "sorry.....i just thought you would freak out," you admit with an apologetic smile.

"okay, my feelings aside, let's focus on you first. were you guys dating?" he asks. "no, i don't know what it was, i just knew i had a thing for him a-and now it's all gone," your voice breaks in between. andy pulls you into an embrace before running his hand through your hair, trying to comfort you. it worked like magic.

"i'm so sorry, honey. maybe we could ask sy? only if you want to know. it's totally fine if you want to detach from the whole thing," he suggests, hugging you tighter when he feels a wet spot on his shoulder. "i really want to know."

"alright, then. but let's get you freshened up first, you stink right now," he covers his nose mockingly. you slap his shoulder and laugh. "strange way to thank your amazing friend, but it's okay for today," he huffs.

you take a quick shower and notice that andy put your clothes out. you smile at the action and make a mental note to give him the biggest hug known to mankind before he leaves tomorrow. you wear your clothes and leave your room, only to find a familiar deep voice talking to your best friend.

"she's doing alright, now. all i gotta do now is stop her from finishing both the tubs leaving nothing for me before she gets a sugar rush and destroys me in mario kart," he complains to his phone. a deep chuckle erupts from the phone. "can't believe you're complaining about me to my second favourite character, what a great friend," you roll your eyes at him before settling down next to him, cuddling up to his warmth.

"hi, hope you're feeling better. i just heard what happened," sylus says to you, a smile ghosts over his lips. you shy away from his vision, feeling strange and embarrassed. "she is, she has me, after all," andy pops in between, putting you in a headlock with his slightly muscular arms, choking you in that process.

"a-and-dy, can't b-breathe," you choke out. he quickly removes his hands and hits your back for some reason. "sorry, sorry, sorry. are you okay?" he apologizes frantically. you recover from the lack of oxygen and notice sylus's amused smile, directed towards your friend. you grin internally at the clear display of silent admiration.

andy walks to the refrigerator to get your ice cream and you take it as the perfect opportunity to call out sylus. "keep it in your pants, sylus," you say with a giggle, watching as he turns away while his ears turn red.

"here's your ice cream," andy sings out and places the tub in front of you, ready to be emptied within a few moments. "today i'm gonna introduce you to the worst thing that will ever happen to you, sy," andy says it in an eerily enthusiastic voice. "and that is?" sylus raises a brow.

"the notebook." you snort when you hear andy's words. you really wanted to see sylus cry, for some sick reason. "interesting," he says as his eyes follow andy's movements. the three (two) of you settle down comfortably, wrapped up in a warm blanket and a full tub of happiness along with the most saddest film known to mankind.

you look at your best friend one last time, a fuzzy feeling erupting inside your chest, feeling so fucking grateful you had someone to lean on.

somewhere in the dark in your room, a figure shuffles from its place. a heavy gaze directed towards you and your friend in the living room.

[blissfullsvn]

between the lines pt. 2

pairing. han taesan x reader genre. fluff, academic rivals to ???, college/university!au word count. 2.5k warnings. reader makes life-threatening remarks to taesan (jokingly... maybe...) (+ reader is allergic to coffee & shorter than taesan) a/n. read pt. 1 before this! but once again, the academic rivals are not academic rivaling here bcs they’re busy being (ironically) stupid 👎 anw, i hope you enjoy this! feedbacks are vv appreciated <3 pt. 1 | masterlist

taesan is kind of regretting his decision.

when you had reluctantly stood up and rested your weight over him, he was nothing but nervous. it was the first time you had ever been this close to him, your body directly pressing against his, and it took everything in him to not break into a bundle of nerves. or at least, not enough for it to be visible—he would rather redo that hellish test he took last week than make you see him like this.

his determination had proven to be difficult—extremely difficult—when he felt your cheek land on the curve between his neck and shoulder, the warmth of your breaths tickling his skin. he hoped you couldn’t see the goosebumps on his skin, or the way the hair on his nape stood.

that had been the only movement from you since he hoisted you up, and he was already walking out of the building, which took a considerable amount of time from the student council office. judging from how quiet you had been all throughout, he expected silence to blanket him all the way to your dorm as he assumed that you had fallen asleep again.

that was when his words had bounced back to slap him across the face.

the weight on his shoulder lifted, and he felt your gaze from behind him. “han taesan,” you called, breaking the quietness of the street.

“hmm?” he responded gently, and lifted you up to adjust your position.

you had allowed another beat to pass before you opened your mouth, and that was when the dam shattered.

taesan immediately slows down his steps in surprise, and he merely blinks at what he’s hearing. every single word you utter out only makes him more baffled, because what you’re saying should never be said aloud, especially in public. even now, you’re still throwing out the most creative expletives he could’ve gone his entire life without knowing, not to mention the concern you’re starting to instill in him over his own life.

but despite all of this, he can’t take you seriously when your cold has made your voice so nasal that all he can think about is how adorable you sound, on top of the fact that you’ve dropped your head to his shoulder again in the midst of your life-threatening remarks. your cheek is squished against his jacket, making your words come out in a mumble, and he can’t help but be absolutely endeared. even when you’re cursing at him like your rent’s due.

so, yes, he’s aware that maybe what you’re saying isn’t something which warrants a reaction like his, but how can he help himself when you’re even cuter in this state?

hence, even though you’ve cursed him out a total of 81 times within the past five minutes, he’s not offended. if anything, he’s amused, though he is seriously considering the depth of your feelings towards him.

“did you eat the wrong medicine?” you mumble slowly, eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern. “possessed by another entity?” you sniffle. “or shoved a pipe down your throat?—wait,” you pause, sniffling again. “that’s what i want to do... to you… but i’d be concerned if you did it to yourself….” you trail off, as if thinking about the possibility. “i digress. are you insane?”

taesan can’t hide the amusement that escapes in a form of a poorly-hidden chuckle.

“are you laughing?” your tone is accusing. “there’s seriously something wrong with you,” you say, and he spends another few minutes getting told off for everything he’s done wrong to you in your book. he remains silent the entire time, as he has been since you began talking, until he hears something that makes him feel indicted for the first time.

“...and that one time,” you sniffle, “you gave me a cup of coffee back in our first semester… you were trying to murder me, weren’t you?” you huff, but ironically, you’re tightening your arms around his shoulders.

“i genuinely didn’t know you were allergic!” he lets out almost petulantly, feeling incriminated. “if i had known, i would’ve never done that….” he trails off, then adds quietly, “there’s no way i would.”

you raise your head, looking at the empty roads beside the sidewalk as you ponder for a bit before your cheek falls back on his shoulder. “i’ll admit that was a bit of a reach. i won’t apologise though,” you say, and he can only let out an incredulous snicker. 

“and i suppose,” you add, “if you had such sinister intentions behind your pretty face, i would’ve been dead by now.”

taesan widens his eyes, slows his steps. the tips of his ears are hot, but he plays it off when he asks teasingly, “you think i’m pretty?”

“of course. i’m not blind,” is your immediate response. you say it so candidly that it catches him off guard, and his plan to fluster you instantly backfires on him. he’s just glad you can’t see his face, because he’s sure he resembles the red light ahead the empty roads.

“oh my god, han taesan.” you suddenly raise your head, looking down at him in disbelief. he panics at your reaction, ready to spew out excuses about why he’s full-on blushing, when he hears what you say next.

“did you offer to carry me home to distract me? to make me think about this moment over and over again and lose sleep over this and mess up my speech during the election so you can end up becoming the president? is this your grand plan?”

taesan has noticed that you become, for lack of better words, a yapper when you’re sick, but he didn’t think that your imagination would go overboard in this state too. nonetheless, he easily pushes the observation away when he deciphers the meaning behind your words and he doesn’t miss the chance to spin the tables around.

“i’m flattered, y/n,” he says, biting back his grin with a blush that’s still visible, but a lot more subdued. “i didn’t know i had this much of an effect on you.”

it seems you’ve finally registered what you just said, as he feels you freeze up behind him, and all he can do is try to suppress the smile that threatens to stretch across his face. he’s slowed down his steps considerably because he knows he’ll arrive at your dorm soon, but you’re already jumping off his back before he can realise.

“have a terrible night,” you say with a painfully straight face and walk off briskly, but halt in your tracks almost immediately.

“you left your bag,” taesan says, hiding his amusement behind his hand as he holds up the backpack he’s been carrying together with you.

you turn and stalk to him, grabbing it wordlessly before taking long strides away from him to disappear from his view.

when you wake up in the morning, it feels just as humiliating as the time you called han taesan when you were drunk (you had ended up cursing at him for fifteen minutes straight, and he somehow hadn’t cut you off once), which had become one of your top miserable moments in life.

no, this is even more humiliating, because at the very least you could use the excuse of intoxication before, but you had been fully sober this time.

it takes a little more effort to get up today, but before long, you’re heading out of your dorm quietly to not wake your roommate. despite being ten minutes later than usual, the student council office is still empty by the time you arrive. you can only be grateful, because the dread that had clawed at your skin as you stood before the door was intense—you really didn’t want to face him.

you find yourself hating the joy you dumbly felt a few moments ago, because the moment you take a seat, the door opens and of course it’s the person you wanted to avoid the most today.

you don’t greet taesan or even spare him a glance as you pull out your laptop and place it on the desk, but you see him inching closer from your peripheral vision. with your eyes lasered on your laptop screen, you pretend to not notice until he’s directly next to you and you have no choice but to address him.

wordlessly, he places a bag next to your laptop and walks to his usual seat on the opposite side of the conference table. your gaze follows him momentarily before you turn back to the bag. you take a peek and immediately raise an eyebrow when you see three different cold medicines, your favorite candies, and a cup of hot green tea—the same one you bought last night.

you look up at taesan, who seems to be darting his gaze everywhere but at you, but the door is already opening again as more members enter the office for the meeting. you keep your eyes on him for a little longer, who’s still adamant on not looking over, until you finally break your gaze when the meeting starts.

after you’re dismissed, you immediately call out for taesan, who looks up like a meerkat at your voice. you ask him to stay in the room for a little longer and pointedly ignore the meaningful looks from your fellow council members, who quickly file out of the room sensibly.

the moment the door shuts behind them, you raise the bag he gave you, shaking it slightly. “are you trying to bribe me?” you interrogate, straight to the point.

taesan only blinks, as if he's trying to process what you just asked, before his lips part and one corner of his lips quirks up in what can only be a scoff of disbelief. “are you serious?” he shakes his head, but not unkindly. 

“i mean—” you falter, finally realising how you came off. “thank you,” you say, and the way he instantly brightens up reminds you of a cat at the sight of treats. “but,” you add, and he shrivels. “why?”

he swipes his bottom lip with his tongue and flattens the hair on his nape as he says, “you’re sick.”

“i’m… aware,” you reply, forcing down the recent memories that floated to the top of your head. “i just—” you pause, looking down at the bag in your hands to gather your thoughts before you face him again. “people don’t usually do this for those they hate.”

taesan blinks. once, twice, thrice. the immediate rigidness from him is so noticeable that the air almost turns icy around you. you’ve never had a comfortable one, but the silence that falls over you is suddenly too loaded, too overbearing. 

but then his eyes lock onto yours, as if he’s finally seeing you, and the edges of his demeanour instantly melt away. he’s looking at you so softly, reminiscent of his expression in your memories, that it strangely makes you fidgety.

“y/n,” he calls, which suddenly feels too loud in the room with no one else but the two of you. he rounds the table and walks towards where you stand on the opposite side, stopping a few feet away. 

you look up at him, and it’s the first time you’re noticing how tall he actually is. like this, him staring down at you with eyes that hold too much, you feel a little… nervous.

though his expression is still construed as bewildered, you can feel his gentleness radiating from every cell, as if he’s holding a flower in his hands he’s afraid to crush. “i don’t hate you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i ever could.”

oh. you think, and you can feel the puzzle pieces start to align in your head. “but… you’re always trying to rile me up.” you find yourself furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, the pieces repelling each other again. 

he caresses his nape, looking down sheepishly. “i thought… we were having friendly banter,” he says, then looks over at you through his eyelashes. “i’m sorry for upsetting you,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone is so evident that it takes you aback.

“oh.” you think aloud this time, surprised by the unfamiliarity of the man before you. “it’s… okay,” you reply. then, you suddenly realise how dramatic you’ve been, and you feel your cheeks heat up uncontrollably. “i’m… sorry too, for all the times i’ve been rude to you.” you lower your head and shut your eyes, too embarrassed to look at him.

taesan laughs, a hearty sound that surrounds you like a warm blanket. you open your eyes, realising it’s the first time you’ve heard him like this, and look up to capture the moment. he’s laughing toothily, eyes crinkled into half-moons as he hovers one hand over his mouth. as you take in the sight of him in awe, you suddenly realise that this may be what has been beneath your emo rival’s irritating remarks all this time.

when you look back at all the times taesan has interacted with you, you don’t know why you thought he hated you. besides his tendency to, in his words, banter with you in class and the student council, he’s always tolerated your ridiculousness—from that call where he had simply asked if you needed a ride home after listening to your insults, to carrying you on his back all throughout the relatively long walk to your dorm just because you said it in passing.

you furrow your eyebrows. the puzzle pieces are moving closer again.

“taesan,” you call out before you can stop yourself. as of this moment, your mouth has disconnected from your brain as you try to fit the puzzle correctly, so you find yourself spitting out the question without a warning. “do you like me?”

the way he stiffens instantly would be comedic if not for the fact that you had asked a question that could break the truce you just formed. the realisation finally dawns on you, and panic starts to set in as you see his reaction. “you don’t have to answer that, i didn’t mean to—”

“y/n,” taesan cuts you off effectively. for a moment, only silence can be heard between you, and you hope he doesn’t catch your erratic heartbeat from your nervousness.

then, he offers a small smile. “give me a chance to answer this properly next time,” he says extra softly, as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. “for now, just know that, even if you drunk-dial me to yell at me again or curse at me all throughout another piggyback ride,” he softens, “i will never be able to dislike you.”

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[cmncisspnandmore]

All hands on deck -Part 3

Parings: Poly!Taskforce141 X Wife!Reader

Warnings: None?

Word count: 7844

Not beta read or edited, all mistakes are mine.

Previous: Part 2

2 months. 8 weeks. 56 days.1,344 hours. 80,640 minutes.

That’s how long John, Kyle, Simon and Johnny had been gone.

You rest your head on your hand, sitting on the dark brown chair in the corner of the playroom. Your mug of peppermint tea sitting on a coaster next to you, Right next to the book Kyle was reading before he left. Hope sits on the floor, smashing wooden blocks together, her little cheeks flushed pink. Her short brown hair pulled up in two tiny pigtails. Theo lays on the oversized bean bag, rubbing his eyes furiously. 

“Mama,” he whines, and you look over, blinking rapidly as you focus on the 4 year old.

“Yes baby?” 

“I want Papa!” he cries, head tipping back as a harsh sob leaves his lips. 

“I know baby, i know,” you frown, standing from your chair, walking over to the overtired toddler and picking him up.He presses his face into the side of your neck.

“I want Papa,” he whines again, his voice tired. For the past 2 weeks Theo had refused to go to bed, throwing monumental fits, throwing himself to the ground and crying for hours. Nothing you did soothed him, it always ended the same way, you sitting outside his bedroom door, your own tears trailing down your cheeks as you listened to him cry himself to sleep. The days with him weren't much easier, his overtiredness causing every small thing to be a battle. He had started going after Hope, hitting her, biting her, and then in turn hitting you when you tried to break them up.

The only saving grace for your sanity was that the older children had school during the day. With 3 of your 5 children gone from the house 8 hours a day you were at least able to have some semblance of order. But the house was nowhere near where you wanted it to be. The dishes piled up in the sink. Laundry wasn't done, and the entire house needed to be deep cleaned. But there wasn't enough time in the day.

You felt like you were drowning, an engine running without gas. Between waking up at every small sound in the house, Theo’s refusal to sleep, and getting up at 5am each morning to get breakfast and lunches done for the older kids. Not to mention the never ending errands you had to run, going to the grocery store, bringing Kira to gymnastics, Joseph to football, Isla to ballet. 

You were exhausted.

Theo sniffles into your neck, and you rub his back gently, trying to soothe him. 

“I want Papa,” he says softly, his tears soaking the collar of your pink blouse. 

“I know, I wish I knew when he was going to be home,” you breathe. Your lips brush over his cheek, your hand making small circles on his back. Hope toddles over to you, her hands gripping your pant legs. Her big blue eyes turned up towards you.

“Up! Up!” she demands, her hands pulling on your yoga pants. You crouch and pick her up, settling her on your other hip. Theo notices and reaches over smacking her in the face. It takes Hope a moment to register what happened and she starts screaming. 

“Theo!” you scold, putting the 4 year old on his feet. He stares up at you with his brown eyes. Tiny brows furrowed in anger.

“No! No Hope! I don't like her!” he screams, raising his tiny fists to beat against your leg. You cradle Hope to your chest as Theo beats on your thigh. Big tears stream down her cheeks, a tiny hand print on her face, 

“Theo we don't hit, it's not nice.” You sigh, looking down at him. His face is red and angry as he continues to hit you. “Damnit Theo ENOUGH!” You yell, and he stops immediately, his lower lip trembling. You watch as his face scrunches up and he starts to scream. 

“I no like you Mama!” he screeches before he takes off from the playroom, his angry footsteps disappearing down the hall. You close your eyes, your head pounding, Hope still crying softly in your arms. Theo’s angry screams down the hall, you take a deep breath. Trying to compose yourself, as you walk down the hallway. 

“Do you want some strawberries? Will that make you feel better?” You ask Hope, and she stops crying almost immediately. You shake your head, she was definitely one of your husbands kids, food seemed to be the cure all for her. You walk down the hall and set her in her highchair. You see Theo’s feet peeking out from under the island counter, but don't say anything. You know if you said something to him he would just lash out at you. He was like a tightly wound spring, one wrong move and he exploded. 

You grab the container of berries from the fridge and start cutting them into small pieces, plating them on one of Hope’s tiny pink plates. You deposit them on her tray and she digs in, hands fisting as much fruit as she can. She shoves fistfull after fistfull into her mouth.  Strawberry juice dribbled down her chin, staining her yellow dress pink.  

A little hand grabs the bottom of your pants as you put the knife into the kitchen sink. You glance down, Theos small hand grips the black fabric tight. You kneel down, knees cracking as you come face to face with your overtired four year old.

“Sowwy Mama…” he says softly, looking down at the cream tile.

“I accept your apology, but we don’t use our hands to hit people. It’s not nice, Hope didn’t do anything to you. I know you miss Papa, Dad, Da and Daddy. I wish I could make them appear so they could hug you sooo tight they squish all the sad outta you, but I can’t. And I miss them too, Theo. It’s okay to be upset, but it’s not okay to use your hands to hurt people, okay?” You rub your fingers over the backs of his hands, and he nods. Brown curls falling into his face, you brush them back smiling softly at him.

“C’mon, how about you have a snack before we go pick up the twins and Isla from the bus stop, does that sound nice?” You reach for him, pulling him to his feet. He nods, “we have any blueberries?” 

“We sure do,” you smile, and Theo races to a chair, scrambling up it. He rests his elbows on the table, and watches as you grab them from the fridge and put them back in a bowl for him.

You take a seat opposite of him, watching as he eats the small blue fruit. Your head resting on your hand, your head still pounds. Each beat of your heart is like a hammer in your head. You rub your temples, wincing as Hope starts to bang her plate on the high chair tray.

“More! More! More!” she laughs, the plate clattering to the floor. 

“Okay, okay, you can have a few more,” you push back your chair, grabbing her plate from the floor, you squick some blueberries for her, and give her back the plate. Theo and Hope eat their fruit happily, your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. It was almost time to go to the bus stop to get the other kids. 

“Eat up my friends, we gotta go get your siblings in a moment,” you muse, walking down the hall. You collect Theo and Hope's shoes, after slipping on a pair of flats. Theo’s dinosaur sneakers are tattered and in need of replacing. You sigh as the velcro closure hangs on by mere threads. It was always something. You kneel in front of Hope’s highchair and slide her baby pink crocs onto her feet. Her face smeared in pink and purple juices from her snack. You wipe her mouth with your sleeves, staining your shirt. You could hear Simon's voice in your head, grumbling about trying to get stains out of your shirts. A smile ticked up on your lips, he did most of the laundry when they were home. He claimed the monotonous task quieted his mind, much like when he cleaned his gun. He would always scold you for using your shirt or pants to wipe the various messes off the children. At one point he was convinced you did it just to punish him. 

Not that it was your intention. You never did it maliciously to give him more to do, but with 5 kids it was faster to just use your shirt or pants to wipe small messes than find a rag. There was barely enough time to use your shirt before they smeared it over the furniture. 

The clock on the wall chimes, 3pm, the soft melodic song pulling you from your thoughts. You quickly slip on Theo’s shoes, and pull Hope from her high chair. 

“Lets go my friend, time to get the others,” you hold your hand. Theo climbs off the chair, shoving his last berry in his mouth. His tiny hand slips into yours, as you walk down the hall. Pulling open the front door you glance around, hoping that maybe the black sub they took to base would be pulling down the driveway, but it was empty. Only the discarded bikes and sidewalk chalk there. The chalk drawings faded from the sun, and various shoes walked across it.

The bus stop was at the end of your street, about a 5 minute walk from your house. Theo holds your hand the whole way, eagerly looking at the houses as you pass them. He points out all the different color flowers that are starting to bloom in your neighbors yards. A group of parents stand at the end of the street, all of them talking among themselves. 

“Mama! Piper!” Theo exclaims tugging on your hand as he spots his friend. Piper was your next door neighbor Maria’s daughter. She was the youngest of 3, only a few months older than Theo. 

“Alright go on, but stay on the grass,” You call after him as he pulls away from you, little legs carrying him towards the red headed toddler. Piper notices his running, and jumps up and down tugging on her mothers dress. Maira says something to her and she runs up to Theo, pulling him over to the grass on the edge of the street. Threry sink into the grass, plucking flowers from the ground and making them into a pile.

“Hey” Maria greets you as you walk up to the group. A few other parents giving you a small wave.

“Hi,” You smile, shifting Hope higher on your hip.

“Hello Little Missy,” Maria greets Hope, her hands coming to snatch her from you. She settles Hope on her hip, Hopes hands playing with the beaded necklace she wears. ‘How’ve you been? Have they come home yet?”

“Not yet,” you shake your head and Maria reaches out, her hand squeezing your arm lightly.

“I’m sorry, love, hopefully they’ll be home soon,” she gives you a reassuring smile.

“I hope so,” you run your hand through your hair. “The past few weeks have been a lot.” 

“You look tired, if you need anything let me know,” Maria pats your arm. “I’ll watch this little cutie for you any day, and Piper had been begging for Theo to come over and play. Maybe we can set up a playdate for them later this week? I can take them for a few hours and you can get some rest.” 

Your eyes water, Maria was always so kind to you. She knew what it was like to have a husband who was gone alot. Her own husband worked a lot overseas in the states, she would often just stop over with a meal for your family when she knew the guys were gone. 

“Oh hun, don’t cry.” She whispers, pulling you towards her. Her arms wrapping around your shoulders, Hope smushed between you two as she embraced you.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you wipe at the tears that collect on your lower lash line.

“Don’t apologize, you’ve got a lot on your plate, I’ get overwhelmed with 3, I can’t imagine 5. Kids are a lot of work, and it’s not like they’re sitting in an office somewhere like my Michael. They’re out god knows where putting their lives on the line. I at least get the comfort of knowing Michael is in a hotel room each night safe. I couldn’t imagine not knowing where my husband was, if he was alright. And you have not 1 but 4 people to worry about.” Her hand rests on your shoulder, the warmth from her palm seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

“I know, I just feel so stupid being upset by it. It’s been almost 8 years of dealing with it. I mean god, I’ve been with them since I was 18,” you sniffle, taking a deep breath.

“8 years is a long time, they’ve been your safe place for most of your adult life. It’s hard to not know when you’ll get that security back. No one is judging you for having a hard time.” She adjusts Hope in her arms, switching her to the other hip. She studies you for a moment, before she leans in. “If there’s something you need to talk to me about, I’m a pretty good secret keeper.” Her eyes drift to your stomach before she looks back at your face. A suggestive smile on her lips.

“Oh, no! No!” You wave your hands in the air. “That’s not it at all, I haven’t even gotten my period back since Hope stopped breastfeeding. Soon hopefully,” you laugh, as the bus pulls up to the end of the street. 

“Okay..” Maria hums, handing your youngest back to you. Theo runs over to you grabbing your leg as he watches the bus doors open. A few neighborhood kids get off before you 3 do. Joseph spots you first, his black backpack over one shoulder, he runs over. Kira and Isla follow. 

“Are they home yet Mama?” Joseph asks, hope flaring in his blue eyes. Blue eyes that looked exactly like Johnny’s. 

“Not yet Babe, soon though,” you pat his head, running your fingers through his short brown hair. 

“It’s okay Mama,” he sighs, a frown on his lips as he shrugs his backpack up higher. Isla skips over, her bright pink sneakers lighting up.

“C’mon Theo I'll race you home!” Isla teases her younger brother, and they both take off. Isla clearly lets Theo stay ahead of her, she steps far shorter than normal.

“Stay on the side of the road please! And where I can see you!” You call after them. Kira and Joseph walk next to you. Both of them are unusually quiet on the walk home. Isla coaches Theo on stopping at each mailbox on the way back to the house. Always looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren't far behind.

“Everything okay?” You ask, bumping your hip into Kira’s shoulder.

Her blonde hair has started to come loose from her braid, stray tendrils of hair falling into her face. She shrugs slightly, kicking at a rock with her shoe.

“Someone said that we’re weird because we have 4 Dads and that there's no way we could have 4 dads that three of them aren't really our dads.” Joseph chimes in, swinging Hope's hand back and forth, as he walks next to you.

“That's not true, your fathers are most definitely your dads. They all love you,” you frown.

“But it’s true isn't it? I'm Daddy’s and Joseph is Da’s, Theo is Dad’s, and Hope and Isla are Papas… That's why my hair is blonde like Daddy’s and Theo’s skin is brown like Dads. Joseph, Isla and Hope all have blue eyes and brown hair because Da and Papa have brown hair and blue eyes,” Kira crosses her arms over her chest, one hand playing a strand of her blonde hair.

“Yes, you’re right about that. You may look like Daddy, but who reads you a story every night when he's home?” You touch her shoulder gently as you reach your driveway.

“Dad does,” She looks up at you with furrowed brows. 

“And who makes you whatever you want for breakfast on sunday morning?”

“Papa…” she trails off.

“And who gives you the best hugs when you’re sad? Besides me of course.” You smile,

“Da..”

“And who plays whatever game you want, whenever you want?”

A smile forms on her lips, “daddy.” 

“And all of those things are what Fathers do for their kids right?” You ask, setting Hope down in the front yard and she takes off towards Theo and Isla.

“Mhmm..” she stands in front of you, as you crouch down. Your hands holding hers, giving them a soft squeeze.

“So just because you might be Daddy’s kid biologically, doesn't mean your fathers don't love any less, or love any of the other kids more. All of them love so much, and they would do anything for any of you guys. They are no less your dad just because you don't have the same blood type or the same hair color. Because family isn't about who you’re related to, it's about who loves you. If you were to ask any of them how many kids they had, they would say they have 5 beautiful, smart, kind and caring kids. Kids they love more than anything in the entire world, and nothing will ever change that. A lot of people have more than one Mom or dad. You remember Sophie right, she used to live down the street before she moved.” You gently tuck some of the loose hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, Sophie had two Moms because her Dad married someone else after her mom died,” She nods a small smile on her lips.

“So see, people can have more than one or dad, because all that matters is that they love you. So next time someone is mean to you, you just remember that your fathers love you so much, Kira. And nothing will ever change that.” You pull her to you and hug her, her arms wrapping around your neck. Her blonde hair tickles your cheek as she hugs you tight. Over her shoulder you watch as Hope chews on Islas backpack strap, Theo and Isla rolling around in the grass, Isla doing forward rolls and Theo trying to copy his older sister. Joseph watches you and Kira from the front steps. A smile forming on his lips, as you smile at him.

Your poor sensitive boy had been worried about Kira, he didn't like it when she was upset. Even as a baby whenever Kira would cry his little body would stiffen up, all his muscles tense until someone comforted her. For the longest time you had them sleeping in the same cot. When you tried to separate them they screamed and cried. You had been worried about safe sleep, insisting that they sleep separately. It was Kyle who suggested putting them in the same cot. After 5 days of little to no sleep you finally caved, and as soon as you laid Kira next to Joseph they both drifted off instantly. Little bodies pressed against each other. 

It made sense, when you thought about it. They had only ever known life with another person stuck to their side. They couldn't understand why it had changed when they were born.

Now looking at your almost 8 year olds your heart aches. You loved them fiercely and the thought of people giving them a hard time about their dads made you crazy. Why couldn’t people just leave it alone, it’s not like you were hurting anyone. Your lifestyle didn’t cause anyone harm, no one was dead because you had four husbands.

There wasn't some catastrophic event that would happen because you found happiness in the arms of four men. 

“Okay, Mama,” Kira pulls back slightly so there's some distance between you two. “Can we get pizza for dinner?” 

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you, and you give her a small nod. “Sure Baby, let's all go inside. I’ll help you with your homework and then we’ll order pizza.” 

Your back rests against Theos bedroom door, your ass went numb an hour ago. He had stopped crying, the camera app pulled up on your phone showing him laying across his bed, little legs hanging off his bed. His mouth opens as he snores softly.  

After dinner it was a shit show. Hope threw up all her pizza, Theo decided to draw on the walls, Kira and Joseph got in a huge screaming match over whose turn it was to pick a movie. And Isla had accidentally run into the glass cabinet in the dining room and broke it, earning herself a small cut on her hand. 

Your night ended with Theo throwing the world's longest tantrum because his Papa still wasn't home to tuck him in. 

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. Your entire body hurt, your head pounded with each beat of your heart. Every muscle felt like you went 10 rounds with Simon. Your head knocks softly against the door, as you look up at the white ceiling of the hallway. 

It was almost 2 in the morning and despite how bone crushingly tired you were, you couldn't find it in you to get up. To crawl into your massive bed and lay there, missing your men. Sleeping alone for most people was a luxury, especially for someone who had as big of a bed as yours. But to you, the empty bed with more pillows and blankets than one person could need was a constant reminder that they weren't home. 

You had tried calling their cell phones earlier, knowing that it would just go straight to voicemail. You had just needed to hear their voices, hoping it would give you the strength to get through the night. 

Tears prick the back of your eyes, your throat constricting with emotion. You missed them so much it was starting to physically hurt. You could feel the hole in your chest growing with each passing day. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and they started to fall rapidly. Your breathing turns harsh and rapid as you fold over on yourself. Hands gripping your knees as you sob. Your spine digs into the hard wood of the door behind you, but you barely notice. The physical discomfort is no match for the bone deep ache in your heart. Each breath is like a million tiny needles embedding into your lungs as you struggle to pull in oxygen. 

Your soft sobs echo through the hallway, and you’re honestly surprised you haven’t woken one of your children. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you bite back a scream that threatens to rip from you. Your vision becomes spotty as you hyperventilate, and eventually it becomes too much and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Warm hands, soft voices, the smell of jasmine and vanilla. Another set of hands, these ones larger. A different scent, one of gunpowder and leather. 

“C’mon Darling, open your beautiful eyes,” a gruff voice coaxed.

John.

“She’s not runnin’ a fever…” another voice, this one laced with an accent.

Johnny.

“Baby? Can you hear us?” A warm palm brushes over your forehead.

Kyle.

“Give her a minute, the poor thing looks exhausted.”

Simon.

Your eyes flutter open and you blink at the harsh overhead light from the ceiling fan over your bed. People swim at the edges of your vision and you rub your eyes, trying to focus. When you pull your hands away from your eyes, you have a sudden feeling of Deja vu. Four sets of eyes peer down at you. Two sets of blue, two sets of brown. 

“There you are,” John's lips tip up in a small smile.

“I’m not dead right?” You whisper, voice hoarse. 

“No, Baby, you’re alive,” Kyle laughs slightly, his warm hand coming to brush along your cheek. You lean into his hand, the warmth from his fingers seeping into the skin of your cheek. You look at the others, they’re still wearing their fatigues, you push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“When did you get home?” You ask, your gaze landing on Simon. He stands against the wall opposite your bed. Eyebrows furrowed as he watched you like a hawk.

 “20 minutes ago,” Johnny answers, slipping onto the bed next to you, he pulls you towards him. He cradles you against his chest, his lips brushing your cheek.

“You were asleep outside Theo’s door, you look exhausted Darling,” John puts his boonie hat on the dresser, and pulls his gun out of the waistband of his pants. He walks over, shoving Johnny over for a second to grabs his as well. John disappears into the walk-in closet and you can hear the beep of the electronic lock for their gun safe. 

“Oh…” you murmur as Johnny tucks you under his chin, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

“I take things have been rough?” Kyle sits on the other side of you. As if on cue, the baby monitor for Theo’s room screeches to life. 

“Mama!!! I want Papa!!” Theo’s little voice crackles over the monitor.

John pokes his head out of the closet, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpant. “That’s my cue,” he mutters, walking over to the bed and dropping a kiss to your head. He slips from the room, and a moment later you hear Theo’s bedroom door open.

“Papa?” Theo’s voice is small and sleepy.

“Hi buddy, you looking for me?” John says quietly.

Simon reaches forward and switches off the monitor. Before he disappears into the closet to change as well.

“Missed you Mo Chridhe..” Johnny kisses your shoulder and hair.

“Not as much as I missed all of you,” you smile, grabbing Kyle’s hand and squeezing softly.

“Go change MacTavish, you’re gonna ruin my sheets,” Simon grunts. “Stop hogging the wife too,” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at you and Johnny. 

Johnny sighs and climbs off the bed and Simon slips into his spot, pulling you basically on top of him. His lips press to the side of your head as he anchors his arms around your waist. You look at his face, the dark circles under his eyes and a new cut through his eyebrow. Every muscle in his body is tense. You feel like you’re cuddling a rock wall more than your husband.

Kyle heads into the bathroom leaving you and Simon alone for a few moments. You rest your head on his large chest, his heart beating frantically against his ribs.

“It’s okay Si… you’re home now.. you can relax,” you gently rub your fingers over his jaw. The muscles twitching under your fingers.

He lets out a long breath, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he presses his mouth to yours. He pours everything into the kiss, his worries, his anxiety, the love he feels for you. He leaves you breathless as he pulls back.

“Get some sleep, Lovie. You need it.” Simon lets you go slightly so you can settle into your spot in the middle of the bed. Kyle flicks the light switch off and climbs in behind Simon, his arm over Simon’s body and resting on your hip. A few seconds later Johnny slips into bed facing you, his hand grabbing yours.your eyes grow heavy as he settles the blankets over you. The soft click of the bedroom door, followed by a slight shift in the mattress as John climbs in, the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep.

You wake the next morning, bed empty, and you sit up. Did you dream of them coming home?

You glance around the room, but when your eyes settle on John’s boonie hat and Simon’s skull balaclava sitting on the dresser, you know you didn’t.

Slipping from the bed you change into a pair of leggings and a top, quickly brushing your teeth. You can hear laughter from the floor below as you walk down the hall. All the kids' bedroom doors are open, and the scent of pancakes floats up the stairs.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look, this one looks like a smiley face!” Joseph laughs.

“Nice job bud, can you make another?” Simon’s deep voice replies.

You round the corner and pause in the doorway, Theo is snuggled up on John’s chest, as John sits in a chair. His large hands rubbed the four year olds back.

Hope sits in her high chair, Kyle perched on the edge of the table as he rips up a pancake for her. Her tiny hands are grabbing the pieces faster than he can place them. 

Kira and Isla are sitting with Johnny at the table eating, their faces covered in sticky syrup, chocolate from the pancakes on their fingers.

“Hi Mama!” Joseph is the first to notice you, your shadowy figure at the edge of the doorway. All eyes snap to you, your children smiling before going back to what they were doing. Your husbands regard you for a few extra moments. Gaz only momentarily before Hope smacks her hands on her tray, demanding the man in front of her rip her pancake faster. 

John smiles at you over Theo’s head, his head tipping towards the full coffee pot. He knew you well, the first thing you needed in the morning was a caffeine fix. Johnny watches as you walk to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup and adding all your favorite mix ins. 

“Did ya sleep well?” He asks, wiping syrup from the table with a wet cloth.

“I did, best I’ve slept in awhile actually,” you hold the warm mug between your hands. You peer over the kitchen island where Simon is standing with Joseph making pancakes. He pours the batter onto the hot griddle before Joseph carefully drops various toppings into it. Blueberries for some, and chocolate chips for others.

“What kind do you want mama?” The boy asks, a smile on his lips as he shoves a stray chocolate chip into his mouth.

“I’m okay baby, thank you,” you walk over kissing his cheek before stretching up on your toes to kiss Simon’s. Simon’s brown eyes flicker over to you, but he doesn’t say anything just observing you.

You slide into a bar stool and watch as they continue to make stacks of pancakes. Once they are out of batter Simon plates two pancakes for Joseph, steering him in the direction of the table for him to eat. You raise your mug to your lips taking a small sip of your coffee. Your nose scrunching as the liquid slides over your tongue. Your stomach rolls slightly as you take another sip. You set the mug down on the counter, looking up to see Simon once again watching you. His hands held the empty bowl of pancake batter. 

“Something wrong with the coffee?” He inquires and you swear his eyes can see right through to your very soul. 

“I think the cream might be bad,” you push the mug away from you. Suddenly John’s hand is wrapping around the mug and he takes a sip. He’s quiet for a moment before he sets the cup down.

“Kira, Joseph, Isla, get ready for school,” John looks over at the kids who are staring at all of you. They quickly scramble from the room. Their footsteps race up the stairs as they run to their rooms to change.

“When did you find out?” He asks, and you look up at him puzzled.

“What?” 

“You don’t have to hide it, baby. We weren’t kidding when we said it before we left.” Kyle pulls Hope from her high chair and comes to stand around the counter with the other two.

“Said what?” You look between Simon, Kyle and John, your eyes flickering between them all. Johnny comes over, dropping the kids plates into the large sink.

“About wanting another bairn,” he crosses his arms over his chest. A smirk on his face as he looks at you.

“I’m not pregnant.” You blurt out, running your hands over your face. When you pull your hands from your face they’re all staring at you with doubtful looks on their faces. “I’m not!” 

“The only time you don’t like coffee is when you’re pregnant,” Simon states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“When was your last period?” Kyle asks, shifting Hope up higher in his arms.

“I haven’t gotten one since Hope stopped breastfeeding, that’s normal though,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Did you not learn anything the last time you thought that?” Johnny laughs, and you cheeks flame. Okay so maybe they had a point, the last time you didn’t get a period after you stopped breastfeeding was when you got pregnant with Isla 3 months after the twins were born. 

“Sod off,” you grumble, getting off the stool and storming up the stairs. 

“Lovie! Don’t be like that, we aren’t mad!” Simon calls after you, but you don’t miss the laughter in his voice. 

“I’ll prove you wrong! Just gimme a moment!” You slam the bathroom door closed, and drop to your knees in front of the bathroom vanity. You pull out baskets of random items. Gauze, kids hair brushes, extra tooth paste, a Barbie doll that went missing months ago. A half used box of tissues, and more. You finally spot what you’re looking for, a box of digital pregnancy tests you kept in the back of the vanity.

You don’t bother shoving anything back under the vanity, as you quickly pee on the test strip and put the blue plastic cover on. You jog back down the stairs, the test in your hand as you place it on the counter in front of them. The little digital screen blinks, the bars creeping ever so slow as you give each of them a glare. 

John puts Theo on the floor and the 4 year old runs off, his own tiny feet going up the stairs as he goes to find his siblings. Kyle sets Hope on the counter, and she smacks the countertop with her hands, laughing at the sound that echoes through the quiet kitchen. 

“Darling, we want as many children as you’ll give us,” John reaches over and flips the test over so no one can see the digital screen. 

“We already have 5, how many more could we possibly need?” You sit on the bar stool, as Simon hands Hope 2 wooden spoons for her to play with. She shoves one in her mouth and waves the other around, almost smacking Gaz in the face. 

“I’d like 3 more,” Johnny answers, leaning his forearms against the counter. 

“8 Children total?” You stare at him, unable to wipe the slightly horrified look off your face. “You realize that there would be 13 people in our family at that point right?” 

“What's got you shaken up Mo Chridhe?” he frowns at you.

“I-I don't know if i can handle 8 kids alone….” You whisper, your voice shaking.

You could barely keep the 5 you had already alive when they were gone. Add in 3 more and you were sure you weren't going to survive. But you loved your children, and had always wanted a huge family. It was something you dreamed of as a child, and you knew how much each of your husbands adored the children. Were you really ready to never have a newborn baby again? Never experience the first time a baby smiles or laughs. Your gaze flickers to Hope, as she sits on the counter top, drool trailing down her chin as she gnaws on the wooden spoon. Kyle watches her, a smile on his face as she smiles at him. 

“We talked a lot on this last deployment, and we agreed we would be stepping back a lot,” John comes to stand behind your chair, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“But you’re the best at what you do… I’d feel terrible if something catastrophic happened because you were home instead of where you were needed.” You look between the 3 of them in front of you.

“Love, here is where we’re needed,” Simon frowns.

“We’ve been doing this for a long time, longer than most task forces. It’s about time we think about passing the baton to another task force anyways. We’ve been talking with Laswell and she’d sent us some files of teams she thinks would be a good fit. We would train them, and we would still be working on base. But we wouldn't be deploying as much, only when we were really needed.” Kyle adds.

“We’ve been asked to help train and teach new recruits, we’ve got a lot of experience in the field, and it's helpful for them to learn from people who have been out there, seen what we have. We’ll still be doing what we love, but we’ll get to come home to our family every night. You won't have to worry if we’ll be coming back every time we walk out the door. You’d get the help with the children, and we’d get to see them more. Spend time with them. We’ve missed a lot over the years and we don't want to miss anymore.” Simon runs hand through his blonde hair, and your eyes fill with tears. 

“You’re not just doing it for me right? You want to step back right?” You look over your shoulder at John. 

“You’re part of the reason, but we’ve all taken a beating over the years. And it was getting time for us to retire anyways, we’re just doing it a few years earlier. But trust us Darling, we want to be home. Being out there doesn't give us the same thrill it did years ago. Being here, with you, that's what we look forward to.” John runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you breathe, your eyes falling to the flipped over test. 

“No matter what it says, we’ll be okay,” Kyle reaches across the table and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. 

“What do you want it to say?” Simon asks, drawing your attention to him. 

You chew your bottom lip, what did you want it to say?

You were happy with the 5 beautiful children you had. The twins, Isla, Theo and Hope, they were amazing children and you loved watching them everyday. But your family didn't feel complete. You didn't feel done, your heart still longed for more.You loved how close the kids you had now were, they were never alone, they always had someone to play with. And when the time came and none of you were around, they would still have each other. 

“I want more,” you finally answer, and all 4 of the men in your life smile. 

“Even if it's negative, we’ll keep trying okay?” John kisses the top of your head. Taking one last deep breath you reach forward and pick up the test. You look at all of them as they wait for you to flip it over. 

Your hands shake slightly as you flip over the little blue test, 5 sets of eyes peer down at the small screen. 

‘Pregnant, 3+’ stares back at you. 

Johnny is the first to move as he nearly climbs over Kyle and John to get to you. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you from the chair, and spins you around. His face is buried in your neck as he holds you tight. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbles as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Get out of the way MacTavish,” John grumbles as he pulls you from Soap and into his arms, he presses a kiss to your lips as well. “I love you, thank you for giving us another.

“You don't have to thank me,” You laugh as you kiss him back.

Kyle is next, his hands settling on your waist as he pulls you in, his lips finding yours. “We do, because you’ve already given us 5, and we would never ask for more if it wasn't what you wanted.” 

Simon is the last, he pulls you in, his large hands on your hips as he leans down, his forehead bumping yours as you share a breath there. “You sure this is what you want?” He asks softly, you can hear the others move about the kitchen. Kyle takes Hope to put her shoes on. John and Soap call up the stairs for the older children to get their backpacks as they slip their lunchboxes into them.

“I’m sure,” you smile, “I want this.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Simon presses a kiss to your mouth before he hugs you tight. You wrap your arms around him, leaning your head on his chest. 

The sounds of footsteps running down the stairs pull you away, Isla, Kira, and Joseph file into the kitchen, their backpacks on, all dressed for school.

“We’re ready, can we all go to the bus stop this morning?” Joseph asks, looking between you and Simon.

“Sure bud, let me just put my shoes on,” you smile, you walk down the hall to grab your shoes and pull them on. The rest of your family waits, as you tie your sneakers.  John holds Hope in his arms, Simon holds Theo’s hand, Johnny and Kyle head out the door first. The children followed. You fall in step in the middle of your group, it was warm today. Warmer than normal for this time of year, but you didn't mind it. Although the unusual warmth usually brought thunderstorms. 

Those you weren’t too fond of. 

As you approach the bus stop you see the normal group of parents waiting with their children. Maria stands next to her two older boys standing with a group of friends, Piper sits on the grass, her little head lifting as you all approach. She waves enthusiastically to Theo, and Theo pulls away from Simon. Running as fast as his little legs will carry him to his friend. They sit in the grass, building a stack of rocks to see who can get it higher. 

Maria looks at you, a giant smile on her face as she sees your husband’s with you. 

“I see they came back!” she exclaims, as you and the others stop a few steps from her.

“Pleasure to see you again Maria,” John hugs her.

“Glad you made it back,” she smiles, hugging each of them, even Simon who stiffly hugs her back.

“We’ll be around a lot more,” Johnny smiles, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulls you into his side. 

“Oh?” Maria looks at them.

“We’re stepping back, we have much more important things here,” John explains, and Maria nods.

“I’m glad you’ll be around more,” she eyes you suspiciously. “Are you still going to tell me I'm wrong?” She gives you a pointed look.

“Ma- y- how does everyone always know before me! It's my bloody body.” You grumble, and Soap laughs. 

“We know what to look for,” Kyle kisses the side of your head.

“I just knew because even though you looked knackered, you still looked like you were glowing,” Maria laughs.

“Simon figured it out because of my coffee,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I'm happy for you, dear. If you need anything let me know. Although I wonder how you’ll fit another in that house of yours. You’re quickly outgrowing it,” Maria adds as the bus pulls up. The older children all race off to get onto it, and wave you as they all climb on. 

“We haven't figured that much out yet,” you shrug, “I'm sure we’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will,” she hugs you. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you hug her back.

“C’mon Theo! Time to go,” Simon calls and the small boy hugs his friend before he races over. 

You wave again to Maria and begin the walk back to the house, Hope having fallen asleep in John's arms. Her brown hair falling into her face as she sleeps peacefully. You look between the four men that walk with you.

“What are we going to do about the room… we don't have any more bedrooms.” You place your hand on your still flat stomach. How long did you have to prepare?

Where would you even put a baby? 

Isla still had her own room, and sure you could move Theo into there, but he still wasn't a good sleeper and you didn't want to ruin her sleep by him waking up. 

You could move the new baby into Hope's room with her but it might still cause problems with how frequently new babies wake up. She would be almost three and a half by the time the baby was going to be ready for their own room. And you certainly were going to need a bigger dining room table to be able to fit everyone. 

“We can always move, we’ve talked about moving in the past. Wanting to get out into the countryside more.  It would be a good time to buy right now anyways, interest rates are low. And I'm sure there’s something out in the rural parts that would be plenty big enough for us, and we can always add on. We don't really have enough land with the current house to add on, we’d be building too close to the neighbors.” John explains, as you get to the end of your driveway.

You stare at your house, you’ve been in it for 5 years, having moved in when you were pregnant with Isla, a month before she was due. The twins were still babies themselves. You loved the house, but it was too small for such a large family. With only 5 bedrooms, and 3 bathrooms it was becoming crowded. Your kitchen, although big enough for now, wasn't going to be able to accommodate everyone for much longer. And you always wanted a house with lots of land for the kids to play in. You had a decent sized yard now but it was nowhere near big enough for the swingset the kids kept asking for. 

And it wasn't like it was a small house. It had almost 3000 sqft, but when you have 5 children and one (possibly 2) on the way. You needed something bigger. Something with room to grow. 

“Okay, we’ll start looking at listings.” 

“So we’re gonna move?” Simon confirms.

“We’re moving,”

Next:

[crimsonmochi]

Prompt. Full-heartedly believe Choso is the goodest most pathetic boy for his partner ever. And not just when it comes to sex, just everything. He just loves you so much :( I can't prove it, but I can write about it. Smut included.

Choso, who just doesn't know what he would do if you weren't there. I mean, this boy gets lost so easily because of how much he wanders, he has to call you because he gets upset and has zero sense of direction.

"I don't know how to get home."

"Why did you leave?"

"I saw a kitty and I wanted to pet it."

Choso, who pouts, and he pouts a lot. He pouts when he doesn't understand something you're explaining, he pouts when he wants something, and he pouts when he doesn't get what he wants. Will act like you killed his whole family if you don't give him kisses right now.

Choso, who needs to be touching you at all times in some way, or he panics and thinks you don't love him anymore. The first time you gently push his hand away from your waist in public due to being overstimulated at the mall, he nearly has a breakdown going over every single thing he's said and done in the past week.

He told Yuji about it the next day, explaining that he will literally end his life if you leave him and telling him he had to help.

"Just make some sort of big gesture. You should be fine."

Choso decorated your bed with some flower petals the next day, found out he was allergic to pollen, and was sneezing throughout his apology. Apology you didn't know was for, but you forgave him regardless, nursing him back to health in your arms until he didn't have the sniffles from the pollen anymore.

Choso who was a virgin when you met him and remained one for a good part of your relationship, entirely confused when his dick would get hard when you held his hand? Love, why does it do that? It hurts. He couldn't look you in the eye for a bit after you had explained it, embarrassed and flustered.

Choso had to be shown everything bit by bit. He complained when you showed him porn because it's not you, so why would I watch it. Makes no sense.

Choso who, after that session, tried to masturbate, but it wasn't working. He was clumsy with his movements, too needy and eager, and didn't even know what he was supposed to be chasing. Until he thought about you smiling at a joke he made earlier, and before he knew it, he came all over your bedsheets.

Choso tried to hide what happened from you but couldn't lie when you asked why he was hauling your bedsheets into the washing machine on a weekday, meekly trying to put together the situation with words. After explaining, he asked if he needed to go see a doctor.

"That's normal, babe."

"Are you sure? Felt like I got possessed for a moment, maybe we have a ghost."

He couldn't understand why you laughed at that but was thankful for the reassurance that he wasn't dying.

Choso, who begged you to take his virginity a month later, whining about the wet dreams he had been having about you, confused about what it meant, but it had to mean something.

Choso spent an hour just feeling and looking at your body, unsure where to place his hands, where you liked being touched, where you didn't. He spent so much time asking questions, wanting to please and be good for you, that he only remembered how desperate he was when you finally took control, something blooming in his stomach as you gave him orders.

Choso, who discovered he cums fast and from almost nothing. He shuddered when you took his length in your hand, his back arching off the mattress as a soft whimper escaped his lips, shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

Choso, who discovered that going down on you was his favourite thing to do of all time. For a week straight, that's all he wanted to do; he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just stay under him all the time as he feasted. Has orgasms from it, too, completely untouched, just whining and moaning between your legs like a kicked puppy.

Choso, who pouts at you when you don't let him give you head.

Choso, who loves to be called a good boy, lives for it. In and out of the bedroom, it's like you saying "I love you" to him. Honestly has a bad day if you don't say it.

He is your good boy, and you will call him that.

Choso, who refuses to brat out because how can he be your good boy if he acts up. Days are filled with "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," and "right away." If anyone were to witness, they'd think you're running a tight ship military, but it's just your handsome man on his best behaviour as always.

Choso, who never argues. Not because of anything in particular; he's just not wired that way. He listens too well, is in tune with your emotions and his, and adapts fast. He just wants to make your life easier, and if you want the trash taken out at 8:31 instead of 8:30, then he'll be damned if he doesn't make that happen.

Choso, whose personal therapy is laying his head in your lap while you braid a strand or two. He loves the gentle tug on his scalp, loves your fingers in his hair, and loves to look up at you and see how focused you are.

Choso, who needs to feel helpful and wants you to depend on him the same way he depends on you, sometimes goes out of his way to make himself feel indispensable because he likes how it makes him feel. Once stole your schedule only to memorize it and recite it by heart when you mysteriously couldn't find it, the biggest smile on his face when you thanked him.

Choso, who could make out with you for hours on end just to feel your fingers playing with his baby hairs once. Nearly gets off on it.

Choso, who likes to shower with you only for the soap and shampoo part. He likes to be taken care of, your hands on his body as you lather him up properly, his eyes closed and his mind sleepy. Double points if you're taking a bath instead.

Choso, who lays in bed every night with you and tells you he loves you, why, for what traits, for what you give him and what you make of him.

Choso, who could write a whole essay about you, would never be done, could never run out of things to say.

Choso, who just loves you so much, needs you forever, no matter what.

[hcsiqs]

| i love you, im sorry

• pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

• summary: inspired by gracie abram’s i love you im sorry

• warnings: angst ?? mean!paige kinda…

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Paige, please,” you begged as tears fell from your eyes and you tried to get the blonde girl to look at you, but she refused. “Don’t just push me away!”

“Go y/n! I don’t need you anymore, ok?” she replied, hurt evident in her voice. She jerked her arm away from you.

She had just torn her ACL and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially you. It seemed like everything you had been doing for the past few weeks set her off. She hated the way you tried to help her and the fact that it seemed you pitted her, even though you weren’t trying to. You just wanted to help her, that’s all you ever want to do.

“I’m just trying to be there for you,” your voice dropped into a softer voice as mascara stained your cheeks.

“Well I don’t need you to be here for me or whatever the fuck,” she ran her hands down her face.

“I wanna help because I love you P,” you tried reminding her that all of this came from your love for her, but she didn’t wanna hear it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” her voice broke as she her piercing blue eyes made contact with your own and you could see that she meant every word.

You bit your lip trying to hold back your sniffles as your lips curved into a frown without you even trying. Your arms crossed over your body as you let out a hushed, “Ok,” before packing all your things from her room into a bag and leaving without saying another word. That was the last time you talked to Paige junior year.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all

that often, we're cool now

Paige had decided to stay an extra year at UConn due to her injury that she suffered from a few years prior. And you just so happened to also be staying at UConn to get your graduates degree.

Obviously going to the same school you two had bumped into each other and exchanged a few words, but nothing much, both always seeming to be in a rush to avoid the awkwardness.

You had decided on taking a few summer classes and as you were walking with your head down you found yourself run into a taller figure. When you stepped back you immediately recognized who it was.

“Paige,” you said with a tight lipped smile.

“Y/N,” she replied with the same smile before shooing her teammates off. “How’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good,” you nodded, “Staying busy, you?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” she replied nodding her head while shoving her hands into her pockets. “You—uh—you look good,” her eyes scanned you up and down, something you had gotten used to when you were together.

“Thanks. You too,” you were trying to keep the interaction short and sweet, not wanting to get into anything. “I gotta go, but see you around?”

“For sure,” she nodded before you walked off and tried erasing the entire interaction from your brain.

It wasn’t like you had talked at all in the past two years. You had your civil interactions here and there but never had them for too long. And you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted it to just stay cool between the two of you. Not wanting to bring up y’all’s past.

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

You had just finished your fall semester finals, so you and your friends decided to celebrate and get rid of all the stress by going to Ted’s and getting drunk.

It just so happened to be the same night that the UConn women’s basketball team had won a hard game against one of the best schools, and they had all decided to out to celebrate.

And that’s how you found yourself staring down a certain blonde at the bar who was obviously flirting with another girl. You kept telling yourself that it shouldn’t bother you because you had broken up almost two years ago now, but you could shake the “I loved her first” from your brain as you watched the two.

So, you took another shot to try and distract yourself. The burning sensation trickled down your throat before walking past Paige, ‘accidentally’ hitting her arm.

And once you found yourself in the comfortable muffled silence of the bathroom the door swung open to reveal the tall blonde basketball player. “What’s your problem? You’ve been staring at me all fuckin night long.”

“Have not,” you slurred, rolling your eyes and turning away from her to look in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had taken and your mascara was messy under your eyes from continually rubbing them.

Paige moved closer to you, but not too close, almost scared that if she did you would run away and she would lose her chance. “Yeah. You have.”

“No,” you shook your head, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

“Dude, just fucking talk to me!”

“No! You don’t get to act like what happened is my fucking fault,” you raised your voice turning to the side to actually look at her up close. “You pushed me away, not the other way around.”

“I know and I regret it everyday. But every time I try to talk to you, you rush off!” Paige started moving her hands to represent her frustration with the situation.

“Why would I wanna talk to someone who is just going around flirting with random girls,” you snapped back before even realizing what you were saying. But as soon as the words left your mouth you immediately slammed your lips shut, afraid of what might come from them if you didn’t.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay?” your hands found their way into your hair, brushing it back with your fingers.

A moment of silence fell between the both of you. Neither really knowing what to say in the moment.

“Forget what I said,” you shook your head, wanting to disappear from the entire moment.

“I miss you,” she confessed as you tried pushing past her to get out of the small room.

You felt as if your heart was gonna beat out of your chest at those words. The words you had been wanting to hear since your fight two years ago. The words you had fought to hear that same night but never did.

“I miss you too, P,” your drunken self admitted. Your glossy eyes meeting hers. It seemed like your heart had stopped in that moment and nothing existed but the two of you.

I love you, I'm sorry

allie’s corner

this is lowkey poop im sorry

[kana-daydreams]

𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨

summary: zoro decides just for your sake and his, for once, to allow himself to express a feeling he’d long buried inside him after Kuina’s death—and a feeling he’s only ever had for you. genre: mild angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.2k

I love you.

Settled atop the crow’s nest dome- shaped roof of the Thousand Sunny, Zoro’s dark-brown eyes dart open to meet splotches of fluffy white painted across a canvas of endless blue.

A gentle breeze rustles his clothes and threads through his mint-green hair as he lays with his back pressed flat against the roof’s surface,  head cushioned by his arms, while his gaze continues to follow the clouds lazily gliding across the sky.

I love you.

Zoro clicks his tongue when he hears the words teasing melody continue to play in his head.

Words that had repeated its haunting every daylight, and every nightfall.

Words you’d confessed to him weeks ago—and words he had thought would be your last.

Why did you do it? 

Zoro still relives the moment when he watched your body go limp in his arms, crimson red trailing its way down in gushing streams from the wound in your torso.

Why did you risk your life to save his?

A question that lingered along with your confession deep within his mind during the couple of weeks you’d remained a victim of sleep.

A furrow lines Zoro’s brows, deepening as he unwillingly recalls the urgent scream of your voice calling his name, followed by the sound of steel tearing through flesh and then the painful sight of your body collapsing, motionless, in a pool of red.

After the tragic occurrence, day after day, Zoro would visit you inside the sick bay. It was a difficult task at first, seeing your comatose state, but he made it part of his daily routine to check up on you. And assisted Chopper where he could, sometimes spending the entire day by your side and wishing that you would just open your damn eyes.

And during that time he spent with you and without you, he prayed. 

Zoro never believed there was a god but yet, for you—he did. 

Like a devout believer, day in and day out, he prayed and hoped for a miracle. 

Hoped that some god— any god—would hear his prayer and that you would awake from your seemingly endless sleep. 

Though when a couple of weeks had flitted past and you showed no signs of waking up, the little faith he’d mustered started to wane. 

Waned until like a flame drawn down to a single spark of light left with nothing to fuel its burn, it extinguished.

But today Zoro’s flame reignites.

At the sound of Chopper's crying voice, Zoro’s body bolts upright, his eyes drawing wide when he hears him announce in between sniffles and hiccups, that you’re awake.

And in an instant, he’s on his feet. 

And in an instant, his legs carry him with desperate steps towards the direction of the sick bay, Zoro thinking to himself, despite his once wavering belief—for the first time—a god really just might exist.

“Nami, Robin— you guys are going to hurt her!” Chopper’s worried voice warns the two women hugging the life out of you—literally, Chopper thinks.

“Okay, just one more hug.” Nami snivels, long tears rolling down her cheeks as she gives you one last squeeze before she and Robin unwrap their arms from around you, moving to stand amongst the rest of the crew huddled around your bed.

Your eyes scan each of their tear-stained faces like your own, at the same time searching for the perpetual stone-cold expression of Zoro’s, your heart sinking when there’s no sight of it. 

“I’m so happy to see everyone.” You manage a weak smile, brushing off the disappointed feeling at the swordsman’s absence, and instead focus on the wide smiles, happy tears and collective expressed words of happiness and relief of your long-awaited recovery.

For the next hour or so, the sick bay’s room is permeated with mirthful chatter and laughter until Chopper starts kicking everyone out, informing them of your much needed rest.

“I don’t understand? Why would she need more sleep?” Luffy who sits cross-legged at the foot of your bed asks with a genuinely confused expression. “She’s been sleeping for we—” he’s interrupted when Nami grabs a hold of one of his ears and forcefully starts dragging him out of the room, the scene making a small laughter bubble up your chest.

Luffy’s painful groans and complaining voice drowns out when the door clicks close behind them, and with solitude now your only company, your mind is left to idle.

To idle on the memory of Zoro.

To idle on the memory of his mortified features as he held your form, drenched in blood, close to his chest. And the prominent picture of hurt mixed in with other indiscernible emotions that crossed his face when you confessed your years-long harboured love for him, just before your vision turned dark.

You can’t help but wonder exactly what he thought during that moment of your untimely confession, as you absent-mindedly reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, smoothing it along the rough scar that lines across your stomach. A reminder of the small price you had to pay in exchange for the life of the one you’d always cherished with your whole heart, and the one your eyes longed to see the moment you’d opened your eyes.

A sudden rap at the door pulls you out of your thoughts and you rasp out a “You can come in!” wondering if Chopper had returned to check up on you.

However, when the door cracks open, instead of the doctor, it reveals the familiar figure of the man you’ve yearned to see. 

You watch as he steps into the room, your eyes catching his steely expression which immediately melts at the sight of you. 

Zoro closes the door behind him and wordlessly approaches your bedside, neither of your gazes unyielding from the other. That is until his eyes flicker down to your hand still settled on your exposed stomach, the muscles in his jaw becoming visibly tense.

There’s a silence that settles between you both. One that is equally tense and you can’t help but attempt to lighten the mood.

“Fell asleep again or forgot I existed?” You quirk a brow, a teasing lilt carried in your tone. “I’m placing my bet on the first one.” You chuckle.

 “It’s none.”

Your laughter simmers down when you look up to see that Zoro’s features are void of any hint of amusement.  

“Oh? Then…” 

“I wanted us alone.” He explains and your head tilts in curiosity at his words.

 “Alone?”

“Yeah. We need to talk.”  

You ponder on what he says. On what the topic of discussion might entail that he didn’t want the others around. And in a second or two, when an answer suddenly dawns on you—that it might be about your declaration of love— you feel a faint touch of warmth caress your cheeks.

Shyly, you pat a hand beside you on the mattress. A motion for him to have a seat. 

Zoro takes you up on your offer, joining you on the small bed after removing his swords which he settled in a nearby corner of the room.

“So, what you wanna talk about?” You ask as you feel the bed sink under you from his added weight.

Zoro takes his time to form an answer as his eyes examine you for a bit: the healthy gleam of your skin, the vibrant light in your eyes, and the way your lips curl into that beautiful smile he’d longed missed.

And the longer he takes to respond, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“How do you feel?” He finally asks.

You pout. It isn’t what you expected, but his concern for your well-being at the same time isn’t a surprise.

“A little woozy and tired. But Chopper said I’ll feel better with a little more rest.”

“Right…rest.” Zoro murmurs to himself.

He had been more than determined to see you as soon as he watched the others leave your room that he didn’t consider the toll their long visit had probably taken on you.

“Then you should get some.” He stands to his full height, ready to make his departure, only to be stopped by a sudden and gentle tug on his shirt. 

He peers over his shoulder, looking down to see your fingers gripping onto its hem, your face creased with worry.

“Please Zo, don’t leave.” You plead. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You’d noticed it in his tense expression—that what he wanted to discuss carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, though you weren’t exactly sure what it might be if not your confession.

“You need to rest.” Zoro urges.

“I won’t be able to unless you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Your persistence and stubbornness is no surprise to Zoro. He knows all too well that your words are true, and stands there conflicted with your hand still glued to his shirt, before momentarily releasing a deep sigh as he relents to entertaining your request.

You watch as he seats himself near you once more. “Tell me Zo. What is it?” You prompt when a lull falls, lingering between you two. 

Zoro’s eyes sweep down to where your hands lay before flitting up to meet your worried eyes. “Why…” He pauses for a beat as if gathering his thoughts, before he pieces together the rest of his words; finally asking the question, though not in full, that has been long weighing on his mind. “Why did you do it?” 

Your brows wrinkle, confused. “Do what?”

When his gaze leaves your own and you notice it drops down to your stomach, you immediately come to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

“Because I wanted to.” A smile pulls at your lips. 

A smile that makes Zoro’s hands, unnoticeably to you, ball into fists.

A couple of weeks ago, you were on the brink of death because of him and now you’re here, smiling warmly up at him, saying that you didn’t mind that you’d almost die!

Zoro’s fingers curl, digging deeper into the palm of his hands.

He’s happy—overjoyed, though his features mask the feeling—that you’re okay and that he gets the chance to see your smiling face again. But what if he had lost you?

What if he had lost you, just like he lost…

Zoro shoots up to his feet, your fingers hold on his shirt, ripping away.

 “You’re leaving.” 

His sudden burst of words leave you to stare dumbfoundedly at him as he walks over to the side of the room where his swords lay, propped up against the wall.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?”

Zoro faces your direction once he’s finished securing his swords to his hip. “As soon as we dock at the nearest town, you’re getting off.” The tone of his voice hints that there's no room for an argument.

 You gape up at him. “You can’t be serious.”

This wasn’t the first time, the second nor the third, that Zoro had tried to get you to leave the ship—and to leave their crew.

He’d wanted you long gone since the day Luffy’d recruited you and tried his earnest to get the boy to throw you off the ship. 

Figuratively of course.

“I thought we were past that phase. Aren’t you tired of trying to get rid of me?”

“Not, exactly.” Zoro says and you purse your lips, brows knitting into a frown at his curt and honest reply.

 “Well like I’ve told you countless times, Roronoa. I'm not leaving.” 

Zoro gives a subtle flinch when you refer to him by his family name instead of the nickname you’d called him since you were children. He then releases a deep sigh meeting your defiant gaze. “Being a pirate isn’t child’s play.” He ends with your name. “It’s dangerous.”

“And, what? You think I don’t know that.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing. 

You were aware that like the others,  Zoro was worried about you. But you were here because of your own volition. Not his. A fact you verbally express.

“I’m not a little girl, Roronoa.” You say, voice stern. “I’m an adult. Meaning, I make my own choices.”

Zoro scoffs, almost mockingly at your words. “Yeah, choices that almost left you in a permanent coma, sleeping beauty.”

“I was only trying to protect you.” You feel yourself becoming more pissed, for  lack of a better word, at his retort. “You could have died if I didn’t—”

“I ain’t no weakling. I could’ve taken it.” He argues back.

“You don't know that, you arrogant seaweed!” 

Zoro was strong. Inhumanly strong. A verifiable truth you’d always known. But like any other human being, he was still mortal—and all mortals bleed. All mortals die.

Seaweed?! Zoro’s brows furrow, the muscles in his face twitching. He then heaves a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look…” he starts, voice much mellow than before. “You’re not a pirate. You’re not me and you’re not Luffy—you’re not like any of us.”

Zoro watches as your expression morphs into a reflection of hurt at his words—and it aches him. But his words are somewhat of the truth. You aren’t like any of them. You don’t have raw strength or devil fruit powers to protect yourself nor are you cautious when faced with life-threatening situations, choosing to tackle those situations head on without much of a drop of hesitation.

And that’s what scared him the most. 

“It'd be best if you just go back home where it’s safe.” Zoro finishes, eyes meeting anywhere but your gaze.

“So that’s the real reason you don't want me around?” Your fingers clench around the sheet wrapped around you. “Because I’m weak?” 

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Then what do you mean, huh! Zoro Roronoa.” Your eyes well with unshed tears and your voice cracks as you choke back a sob. “Why is it that you keep trying to get rid of me?” 

Your question is only met with silence, as Zoro continues to keep his mouth sealed.

“Is it because I’m a burden?”

You weakly voice a thought that’d always remained rampant in your mind since the day Zoro vanished a few years later after Kuina’s death, leaving you only a single letter explaining his aspiration and his pursuit of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman along with a stern warning that you never attempt to search for him.

You’d adhere to his wishes which brought with it many sleepless nights, especially when you thought you would never see him again. 

Fortunately, by a stroke of luck, you’d managed to cross paths when you stumbled upon him wandering around like a lost puppy back in one of the towns you usually frequented for selling your goods. And after your fateful reunion, spurred on by what’ve been years of friendship blossomed into unrequited love, you decided to join Zoro in his ambition—and the rest of the straw hats who’d unexpectedly and without a doubt become your home: your family.

“...It is. Isn’t it?” You say when you notice him tense at your assumption.

“No it is’n—”

“Then what is it!” Your voice consumed by a mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment bounces off the walls of the room. “At least tell me why?” 

Zoro looks across at you and a pained expression shadows his face when he sees droplets of tears rain from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, falling and seeping into the white sheets clutched in your grasp.

“Why do you want me to leave?” You continue. “Why don't you want me to be a part of your life?” Some of your words get caught up in an uncontrollable storm of hiccups and sobs. “... and I promise Zoro. Tell me why and I promise I’ll leave.”

Zoro was never one to be emotionally transparent. You know that. But you wanted to know why… 

Why is it that he was so determined—eager to make you leave? 

Why is it that he was so eager to drive you away like you were never a part of his life? And him, never a part of yours.

Silence permeates the room as Zoro’s lips remain sealed shut like before, and as it prolongs so does your impatience.

“If you’re not gonna answer, then go.” You breathe out a weak sigh, feeling new tears starting to emerge. “I’ll leave just like you ask, so just get ou—.” 

“‘Cause I love you.” Zoro mumbles out in a rush, that you barely register what he says.

You blink away the tears, directing your attention over at him, more precisely his back.  “What…did you say?”

Zoro’s face contorts into a frown, heat burning at his cheeks. “I said…” He grits his teeth, finding it cruel that you were making him repeat such cloying words. “...I l-love you, you idiot.” He stammers out and you notice his ears tinge a dark red.

Your heart stutters at his unanticipated confession, words you’d been longing and hoping to hear for years—and words which render you speechless.

“S-say somethin’” Zoro practically begs, growing increasingly embarrassed by your lack of a reaction, still keeping his body pointed in the opposite direction.

You shake yourself out of your surprised state. “You love me?” You ask as heat fans across your face. “Then…why do you keep pushing me away?”

“..Because you’re reckless.”

Your face contorts into a slight grimace, feeling somewhat offended by his words. “I am not reckless.” You retort, regretting it when he starts to recount childhood memories and those of late, that bear witness to his claim. 

Though those events couldn’t compare to the one that almost made him lose you.

The room descends into utter silence when Zoro finishes, leaving you with your head drooped down in embarrassment which had seeped in bit by bit during his narration of your every rash act.

 “I can’t…” 

You raise your head slowly to look across at Zoro whose voice punctuates the silence. And your heart sinks when you hear the subtle crack of his voice.

“I can’t...” He repeats, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I–we lost her. You—” Zoro grits his teeth, clenching his eyes tightly from the growing pain in his chest. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

To Zoro, you are his everything.

The woman who holds the entirety of his heart in the palm of her hands; all he has that reminds him of home—and a reason other than his promise with Kuina to become the world's greatest swordsman.

Zoro’s hands ball into fists as he feels a burning sensation settle behind his eyes. “I can’t lose you t—” 

The words that pained to leave his lips are cut short, when Zoro feels arms wrap, snug around his torso, a soft and familiar body pressing against his back.

“I’m right here, Zo.” You reassure with tears and soft whimpers. “I’m here. And I’m alive.”

Zoro’s heart pounds violently against his chest when you hug him closer to your body, as if trying to prove to him you were real and not  just a figment of his imagination.

To your surprise, Zoro turns around and captures you in a tight embrace. “I know…” He presses a light kiss to your hair, letting it linger for a second, before settling his chin atop the crown of your head. “And about what’ve said before. Forget about it.” He says, as your soft sobs continue to fill the room. “I…I don’t want you to leave.” 

“You mean it?” You quiver out.

“Yeah.” He replies. “Just please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

Your eyes flutter close as you snuggle closer into his warmth. “I will. I promise.” You say, both of you, unknown to the other, making a silent vow to become stronger.

Stronger for each other.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[charmercharm3r]

Now go to sleep

BC

Masterlist

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, bf!chan, piv, fingering, idk witty banter cus he's such a cute meanie like that, idk he's been so teasing on bubble lately I couldn't help myself so ..here..

☆ﾟ

"I'm tired, I'm not going to argue about this."

"I'm tired too, but I can be tired and still care about our relationship!"

Chan had gotten home a half hour ago and was barely stripping his outside clothes, head caught in his shirt when the words left your mouth. He could be menacing when he wanted to be.

Take now, for example. He'd finally wrangled himself out of the material and hadn't even slipped it off his arms when he turned his body to stop and stare at you like you'd just said you committed armed robbery. Brows slightly furrowed, lips pouting at you, Chan had the "fuck around and find out" look down to a T.

"Don't go there." Tone of voice, too. Menacing.

"Don't make me."

But there was the attitude right back. He deserved it for ignoring you the past week, you'd been so understanding until now. You'd reminded him every week for a month until this past Saturday the day he specifically took off so that you could have one date night. Just one. It was the only thing you've asked for since your birthday. And he still forgot.

Forgot or prioritized something else- probably work related- you didn't know or care.

"You promised," your voice shook slightly.

"So did you. You promised you'd understand."

"I've been understanding. You've been ignoring. Me."

The annoyed brow ruffle softened as did the rest of his face when the tears started to well up in your eyes. You didn't wanna cry in front of him, it was the last thing you wanted to add onto his already heavy weighted shoulders, but you couldn't help it. "It's not just your life.

"We sleep in the same bed. We share the same bathroom. You use my shampoo and I steal your hoodies. Sometimes you take my socks from the drawer and it makes you a minute late 'cus you have to make the trip back to the bedroom. Sometimes I accidentally grab your towel after a shower because it's steamy in the bathroom and I can't see, then you shower after me and get confused and use my towel instead. It's probably my fault, but it's not just your life."

Chan dropped his shirt to the floor, annoyance being replaced with guilt. He had been ignoring you, but not purposefully. He knew about date night and let his boss, his colleagues, everyone get in his head that the only way to prove himself and his capabilities was to work himself to death. Death by heartbreak because the sadness that radiated off of you was so painful he was sure that that was exactly what was happening to him.

He took the few steps to stand in front of you and reach out to cup your cheeks, thumb catching the slowly rolling tear. "Your towel is softer, anyways."

You hated how easily he could make things better, laughing and sniffling as you leaned your head into his palms. "I wash our towels together, that doesn't even make sense."

Kisses were smothering your face in the next moment, warmth making the tears fizzle from behind your waterline to be replaced by the need to grab him, hold onto him and never let go. You melted in his arms so quickly, there was no evidence that you'd been crying in the first place.

And when he kissed your lips, you forgot why you were sad in the first place. For a second, at least. The lingering hurt was still there, not as potent, but definitely still there.

"I like using your towel because it's yours," he murmured into your mouth, hands wandering down to press your body against his shirtless one. "Your shampoo smells better than mine. Still smell it throughout the day and think of you." Guided back onto the bed, he covered you entirely to shield you away.

Kisses on both cheeks. "Your socks are cute." Kisses down your neck. "I know they're yours because of the colorful designs." Kisses to your palms and finger tips. Down your body and stealing your top away to plant more across the expanse of your belly until your body started to overheat. "I take them on purpose."

"Then you grumble at me when you're late on purpose, too?" You were teasing back, if the smile you wore was anything to go by.

"Yeah, to get you to kiss me before I leave. You forget if I don't."

"Why don't you just ask me, then?"

"It tastes a little sweeter when you think you came up with the idea on your own." Chan smirked back up at you before venturing further to rid you of your bottoms so that you were left bare before him.

You would never admit it to him, but you forgave him as soon as his shirt came off. You just like when he works for your forgiveness, it reminds you that he does still truly care.

"You're still wearing pants," you breathed heavily when he spread your legs so he could slot between them, the rough denim brushing your aching core.

"Mhm," he mumbled back.

"Take them off."

Chan stopped his kissing rampage and pulled back with that fucking look that made you want to slap him silly. "Why should I?"

It was your turn to be annoyed. "Because I'm trying to fuck my boyfriend."

"Vulgar," he teased, placing a cheeky peck to the tip of your nose. "How badly do you want it?"

Tender touches roamed your thighs and love handles, getting you into a position on your back you knew rather well with him as your partner in it. "Not want, need."

Chan chuckled against your skin, burning like hot coal in the path he took further south, past your cunt and down your legs to pepper kisses around your calves and ankles as he sat up, taking your limbs with him. He maneuvered you to hang your legs over his shoulders so he looked down at you. "Is that really all it took, baby?"

"You haven't done anything yet. I'm still upset."

He bit his lip and raked his eyes up and down your body. "I see how it is."

Cryptic as always, he never gave away more than necessary.

But his body language is impossible to misread. Through his jeans, you could see the tent in his pants that you knew was probably painfully rubbing against the harsh material. He wanted it as badly as you did, but didn't want to be the first one to cave.

Before he could move again, you locked your ankles around his neck and tugged him down, "you were being so nice to me, what happened?"

"Make a little more noise for me, baby."

His hands had snuck their way to your core, fingers running through your folds before you had processed his words. You were doing exactly as he asked, not by choice. He provoked the noises out of you with precise, practiced moves against your clit, practically stringing them out of you like another one of his musical instruments.

"Please," you whined, threading your fingers in his hair hoping he'd cave.

Chan laughed again, "I don't think so. Not loud enough."

Prodding against your hole made another whimper crack through your restraint. You weighed your options and both would lead to an orgasm, you were sure. But you didn't know which route you wanted take more- letting him talk you down into submission or teasing him back until he fucked you into it.

Then his fingers broke the surface, plunging into you slow but deeply. The stretch was already proving to be more than you could handle, head falling back into the mattress and letting chants of his name fill the room. Chan loved it, drooling over how easily he got you under his reign.

"Baby, please. Wan' it," you grabbed his hand to halt his ministrations. Chan laughed at your sudden flip in attitude.

"Fine," he feigned compliance, knowing he would give you anything you asked for if you kept looking at him like he held your world in his hands.

He did, but he doesn't need to know that just yet.

Chan unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips along with his boxers, just enough to let his cock spring free. Clearly, he was barely containing himself seeing as leaking precum made his tip glisten.

"Here," he presented himself like a present, not moving. Chan simply waited for you to take what you wanted. When you did, he smiled, proudly this time.

You used the leverage on his shoulders to scoot down the bed and reached between your bodies to let him slip past your entrance. Oh, he fit like a perfectly tailored glove, every time.

He let you use him, only providing some stabilization as you fucked yourself back and forth, up and down, any which way you could to reach the high you so desperately needed from him. Until you couldn't anymore. All you had to do was stop, let out a huff, and look up at him with those fucking eyes, and Chan folded.

Literally folded, hunching over you and cooing, "okay, okay. I'll do all the work. Only because you look so cute when you try to fuck me."

He didn't need to go very fast, just the right angle to press your sweet spot like a button. The wet, pornographic sounds of your bodies pulling apart and colliding, with his name falling from your lips and his noises of pure pleasure, it wasn't very long until the both of you were arching into one another and letting the euphoric waves crash onto shore.

Chan slumped onto you, bodies tired and feeling entirely too cuddly to clean up any more. Doing the bare minimum and kicking off his pants while not even bothering to pull out, he laid his head into the crook of your neck and smothered you entirely.

"Date night. This weekend." You grumbled into his hair, getting comfortable.

"Whatever you want. Now go to sleep," Chan nuzzled his nose into your skin, letting your warmth take over his senses.

Draping your arms over his shoulders and holding him close with a kiss on the top of his head, you mumbled back, "don't tell me what to do."

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star