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powderpinkandsweeet · 4 months ago

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Ellie x Reader - part of the series where Loser Ellie lives in your apartment complex. I’m a cat mom, and for the sake of plot you are too. (Some sfw some nsfw, Ellie creeping through your things, masturbation)

You’re going out of town to see family, and you need someone to take care of your cats. Ellie just so happened to have no (aka canceled) plans, so she was more than willing to help you out.

Ellie’s hands were clammy as she knocked on your apartment door. She had never been inside before or even had a glimpse. A shadow crossed the peephole and you opened the door with a smile. She almost missed your “hello” as her gaze flickered between your eyes and breasts. “Uh-huh, mhm… wha? Yeah, sorry hi, I’m here for the cats.”

Unphased, you invited her inside. The layout of your apartment was identical to Ellie’s but she thought you had taken to decorating it more seriously than she had. It was softly lit and overrun with pillows and blankets. The floor was a minefield of cat toys in all colors, shapes, and sizes. It felt like home to Ellie. You don’t know it yet, but Ellie was already thinking about where she could fit her own things among yours.

“You can go ahead and make yourself comfortable, I’ll find the kitties so you can meet them,” you announced before disappearing into your bedroom at the end of the hall. While she waited, Ellie perused the picture frames on the walls. Your smiling face was pictured alongside ones Ellie couldn’t recognize. She diligently examined the images, frowning at hands on shoulders and arms wrapped around your waist. Rather than committing them to memory, Ellie hurriedly pulled out her phone to take pictures of each image. She would crop out your precious face and figure out who the hell was in the pictures with you.

You interrupted her scrolling by returning with a well-fed tuxedo cat cradled in your arms. You beamed with pride as you introduced the cat to Ellie, “this is Rosie, she’s shy but a real sweetheart when she warms up to you. Ellie and Rosie eyed each other suspiciously. “She’s doing pretty good right now though, usually she hides under the bed when we have company… here, we should have her sniff you so she can get to know you.”

“Get to know me? By smelling me?”

“Yep!” you responded enthusiastically, “kitties navigate a lot by smell. Rosie can get anxious so she just needs to make sure you’re friendly.”

“Oh it’s okay, I get anxious too.” She didn’t expect you to laugh, but you found it charming how tentative and gentle Ellie was being as she bonded with Rosie. While holding her breath in nervousness, Ellie held out her palm and Rosie extended her neck to intently smell Ellie’s hand. Expecting a bite or a scratch, you were relieved as Rosie retracted and relaxed back into your arms.

“Good job, babygirl! I’m glad she’s playing nice with you, haha!” You scratched under Rosie’s chin as a reward and a look of bliss spread across the cat’s face. However silly it was, Ellie felt jealous of the chin scratches. You gently placed the purring cat into a plush bed and turned to face Ellie. “Let me go find Kiwi, she should be around here somewhere.”

You disappeared into the bedroom once more as you called for Kiwi. Ellie heard a small “mew” and your happy exclamation of the cat’s name before you emerged with a tabby cat in tow. “This little lady is Kiwi. She doesn’t so much like being held but she’s good at coming when called. She’s snuggly when she’s tired but can be real feisty at playtime, so be careful”

Ellie squatted down to Kiwi’s level before reaching out her hand for her to sniff like you had shown her. Puffs of air hit Ellie’s long fingers and rings as she “introduced herself” to the small tabby. She tentatively reached to pat Kiwi on the head but was parried by a paw and sharp claws. "Hey, not nice!" you admonished as you pulled back. "Sorry, she's just got to warm up to you."

"Yeah, it’s okay, no problem... um, so I have to feed them and everything?" she mumbled back to you.

You went about showing her every detail of your morning and night routine with your "babies." Ellie felt like she should have taken notes with how many steps you were explaining, dry food, wet food, vitamins in their wet food, water bowl, water fountain, outside time in the morning, treats if they're good, outside time if they’ve been good girls all day, like how would she remember all this?

You seemed to notice the furrow in her brows and relieved her as you said "It's a lot, I know. I can send you a text with all the instructions. Here, what's your number?"

Ellie froze. You wanted her number? Ellie secretly hoped that this was all a ploy. Maybe you just wanted to get her into your apartment, be alone together in a space where you had control and could do whatever you wanted with Ellie. Her voice wavered as she relayed her phone number to you. You typed it into your phone and continued to "click clack" your nails against the screen until Ellie's phone buzzed. "Hi Ellie! it's me lol." The text made her smile, but the winky face made her pause and overanalyze 'did she mean anything by that? Winks are flirty, right?'

You wish her a casual goodbye, briefly touching her fingers as you pass her a spare key with a Hello Kitty keychain. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and Ellie is left alone in your apartment completely unsupervised.

She leans her back against the door, and lets out a long, heavy sigh. Ellie can see the door to your bedroom at the end of the hallway. It's open only slightly, enough for the cats to get in and out of it for bed. Surely since it's open you wouldn't mind her taking a peek? The cats went in and out anyways and she was supposed to look after them. The hinges creak as she nudges the door open. It's better than what she had ever dreamed of. Your bed is piled high with pillows, blankets, and stuffed toys. She couldn't help it, and Ellie jumped head first onto the bed. Nose pressed against your pillow, she took in a deep inhale. She had never been able to smell you like this, indirectly of course. She attempted to keep a respectful distance when you were around so as to not creep her out, but in this moment she was anything but respectful of your boundaries.

She continued to investigate by going through your drawers, rifling through old t-shirts and sweatpants before she found what she had been looking for. With shaking hands, Ellie clutched a g-string in front of her. How often do you wear this thing? Who had you worn it for?

Your en-suite bathroom was where Ellie found buried treasure, your panties in the laundry hamper. Ellie started to dig through it before her impatience got the best of her and she just dumped it on the floor. Clutching all the panties she could find in her hands, Ellie felt analysis paralysis at which one(s) to take with her. If she took them all, surely you would notice. She decided to stuff just one pair in her pants' pocket, a pair of baby blue panties with a little bow right at the top. She would like to think that she's seen them before when she's walked up the apartment stairs behind you. Souvenir tucked safely away, Ellie continued to explore.

After flipping through all the clothes in your closet, Ellie turned her attention to your bedside drawer. The drawer stuck a little when she attempted to open it the first time, but with a tough "yank" Ellie was able to pull it open, and break the lock from the wood. Her eyes widened and her mouth ran dry. You wouldn't notice, right? Maybe if she put it back or fixed it you wouldn't notice. Maybe she could blame the cat? More important though at this moment in time, was the drawer's contents. "Jackpot," Ellie thought as she pulled a Hitachi wand from the drawer. Holding its weight in her hand, she flicked on the switch and was taken aback by the strength of the vibrations.

She had heard the rumbling of the vibrations through the floor some nights. This is what had made you come time and time again, ignorant of Ellie fucking herself to the sound. Ellie had come with your name on her lips, hoping that you couldn't hear her even though she could hear you loud and clear through the poorly insulated walls. She continued to dig through the drawer, taking note of the sizes and variety of toys you had.

After rifling through the rest of your bedroom and bathroom, Ellie prepared for bed. Digging through your dresser, she pulled out one of your baggy t-shirts and a pair of clean panties. She slipped them on and admired herself in the bathroom mirror. She smiled and felt butterflies in her stomach as she took in how the shirt hung on her frame, imagining how it would look on you as well. It made her feel close to you and miss you just a bit less. Ellie made her way into your bedroom and under the sheets. She lived a two minute walk away, but Ellie wanted to make the most of what she had.The sheets and pillows were soft and smelled like you.. Ellie closed her eyes and imagined you were in bed with her, watching intently as she gripped the hem of your shirt and raised it above her breasts. Ellie licked her thumb and pointer finger before circling her thumb around her nipple. The teasing touch made her shiver, imagining you working her up before getting to the good part. She gave her nipple a hard pinch in contrast to her gentleness before. Ellie’s impatience was getting to her. Her gaze wandered to the bedside drawer she had just explored. She retrieved the Hitachi wand from the drawer and placed it beside herself on the bed. After much contemplation, Ellie clicked on the power button. It shook in her hand, surprisingly loudly when it wasn’t rumbling through the walls.

Ellie grazed the vibrating head against the tip of her nipple, flinching back and crying out an “AH” in response. ‘Okay that was weird but not in a bad way,’ Ellie thought to herself. Her other hand stroked down her stomach to palm her pussy dressed in your panties. The gusset was soaked, and Ellie smeared the slick across the fabric with a pleasured sigh. Wet cotton clung to her folds and her clit, which she circled through the fabric with two fingers. The friction felt different through the fabric, but Ellie refused to take your panties off. This was the closest she had ever felt to you, and she would make the most of the opportunity. Impatience and intense need filled Ellie as she roughly rubbed her clit.

Your Hitachi wand still rumbled where it sat beside Ellie on the sheets. Ellie’s shaking hands wrapped around the handle. After a few deep breaths, Ellie softly pressed the head of the wand against her pussy. As if she had touched a live wire, Ellie thrashed and nearly dropped the wand. “FUCK” she cried out, but did her best to hold it firm against her clit. It felt so fucking good, but the pleasure was more intense than anything she had ever felt. She clenched her jaw and threw back her head. She could hardly keep her eyes open, but she didn’t mind since all she could see when she closed them was your smiling face. In her wildest dreams you would be the one pressing the vibrations against her clit, pressing sweet kisses to her cheek and neck as you praised her. Ellie’s pussy tingled at the assault, on the verge of numbness from how overstimulated she felt. Between her tensed thighs, Ellie’s pussy gushed, soaking through the panties and down the crease of her ass to leave a stain on the sheets. Her clit burned uncomfortably as her pussy clenched around nothing. Ellie reached her limit and practically flung the Hitachi wand away from her swollen pussy. It continued to shake and rattle on the floor as she caught her breath with a dopey smile on her face. After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, Ellie fell asleep in your bed with your biggest plushy tucked in her arms and your name on her lips.

Ellie didn't think her last day cat-sitting would involve a trip to best-buy, but the opportunity couldn't go to waste. She wandered the aisles before coming to stand before a wall of security cameras. She didn't really have the money for it, but eating ramen noodles or rice and beans for the next month to still afford rent would be worth it. The sales representative eyed her suspiciously as she asked him questions about the most "subtle" or "invisible" cameras they had. She eventually settled on one that was compact and promised good video and audio quality. She excitedly took it home.

Searching for a spot to put the camera wasn't that difficult considering the various knick-knacks and books on your shelves. Ellie crawled under your desk to plug the camera in, then threaded it between two of your stuffed animals on the surface. It looked almost like a laptop charger, with a chunky box and a long thick cord to the wall. 'All else fails, maybe I can convince her that I forgot my laptop charger,' Ellie hoped. Hard work and a couple hundred bucks couldn’t go to waste.

Ellie whipped out her phone to open the camera's video feed. She could clearly see herself in the viewfinder, and adjusted the camera so your bed would be in frame. Her trap was set up, now she just had to wait.

A/N: there will be a part two to this for when you come back in town. Thank you for all the love on my writing so far ❤️

#wlw smut #tlou 2 #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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shadow4-1 · 11 months ago

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Got You! - Ghost x Reader Oneshot (NSFW)

please mind the tags on this one! this one is especially dark! tags: heavy noncon, slight dubcon, some torture, predator/prey dynamics

Summary: Being on the frontline as a Kortac hacker is just another job for you. But after a mission goes sideways, you find yourself in the clutches of a broken yet monstrous man they call Ghost.

You typed quickly and quietly on your tablet. A thick cord wormed its way from a port in its back all the way into a wall of servo units. The wall blinked and hummed, some lights flickering as you did your job and did it well.

"I can't believe they're paying so much for such little data." You murmured to yourself, eyeing the storage left on your removable drives. It was less than a couple gigabytes of intel. Off in the distance, you heard a few pops of gunfire, your fellow Kortac members keeping the area secure for you in particular.

"What a weird place to put this shit." You murmured again, glancing around at the room.

You couldn't remember where, in what country you were exactly. This was your third intel op for the week, it was all beginning to blend together. First time had been Russia, and then Spain, and then...Morroco? You were in Morroco, right? Based on the soft rug beneath your knees, the cotton drapes, and the casual color scheme, you supposed so.

All that mattered was getting the hell out of dodge. You half glanced back down at your tablet, another five minutes to completion. Most of the lights on the racks of servers had turned red, a sure sign you were doing your job correctly. Although, the more you looked around the stranger it all felt. Yes, you were a talented hacker. You'd worked hard to get where you were, but your instincts had never let you down either. Something about a server room being in the living room of a Moroccan household didn't seem right.

You heard some more insistent pops of gunfire. They weren't as far away as before. Your heart began to thump with the beginnings of anxiety. Leo, your main escort, was sure to be just outside of the cinderblock house. A part of you wanted to run to him, but you had to stop yourself. Three minutes, and you'd be able to get the hell out of there.

The pops of gunfire quickly became sprays. You heard something shatter across the street. Fuck.

"Leo!" You hissed out, grabbing your tablet, readying to rip the cord out of the back. "I almost got it!"

Thirty seconds. Come on. Come on!

Leo burst through the door, slamming it behind him. He huffed with adrenaline, forcing the door to lock and slamming a nearby bookcase against it. The gunfire was outside. You heard some yelling and returning fire. A man cried out in pain, you guessed one of yours. The glass of the living room window exploded.

Luckily for you, the servo units blocked your body from the main impact. Unluckily for your tablet, it was knocked from your grip. It skidded across the floor, screen shattered with a hole in the center.

A sniper.

You tried to reach out for your trusty tablet, but Leo had other ideas. With one of his large, tan arms, he hooked it around your center and yanked you upwards. Before you could even question him, he began to pull you towards the direction of the back of the house. Sprigs of his usually neat, slicked back hair fell across his forehead. He looked worried, an expression you were not used to seeing on the normally jubilant man.

"Leo, wha-"

You were cut off by the sound of the front door and bookcase splintering inwards. Daylight streamed into the dark house, making it harder to see. Leo practically picked you up and carried you as he ran. There was a long hallway with multiple doors that he locked behind you until finally, your path ended in a bedroom. The layout of this house was strange, but you hoped that it would help throw off your pursuers for just long enough that you could escape. It seemed Leo was thinking the same thing.

"Come on, girlie! The window, quick!" He huffed out through his thick, Australian accent. You happily obeyed, trying desperately to lift up the sill of the nearest window.

"It won't move!" You cried, throwing your entire shoulder against the small ledge. You yelped out in pain, multiple nails had pricked your palm. "It's nailed shut!"

There was a sickening crash from somewhere on the other side of the door. Leo stood tall, his rifle in hand, ready to blast a hole through whoever was planning on coming through. He looked over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in determination. Somehow, his energy was what you needed to keep from falling into a pure panic.

"Try the other one, girl! Kick it out 'f ya 'ave to!" He commanded, his low voice like a spell.

You climbed up onto the bed in the corner of the room. Sure enough, there was a skylight within reaching distance. You threw your body up the wall, the metal bed frame squeaking and shaking beneath you. You clawed and scratched, your fingertips barely making it to the ledge.

"I can't reach!" You cried. "M' too short!"

Leo made an aggravated noise in his throat, but it wasn't directed towards you. Out in the hall, there was the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open. You glanced down at Leo, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

So this was it, huh?

Fucking weeks, months, of being stationed with this random man, and this was how both of you were to die. Cornered and helpless in a foreign country. A part of you supposed that maybe it was meant to be. Leo had always been kind of sweet to you in comparison to the rest of the men you worked with. Hopefully, your shared end would be quick.

Leo's eyes quickly swapped between you, the skylight, and the door. He blinked and then jumped up onto the bed with one stride. You squeaked as he pushed you to the wall, lifted the butt of his rifle, and knocked the glass out with a singular, smooth motion.

"Leo wai-"

He didn't wait. He dropped his rifle on the bed, hooked his hands underneath your thighs, and lifted you easily. Despite his help, you only managed to be tall enough to get your arms through the windowsill, but it was enough.

The door to the bedroom was thrown open with so much force that it caused the plaster of the wall to crack. Leo turned his back to the wall, letting your legs kick off his shoulders.

"It was a pleasure!" He called up to you, voice cracking.

"LEO!" You cried.

A folley of shots flashed from a muzzle in the doorway. Leo let out a garbled growl, reaching for his knife in its holster. He surged forward with his weapon, blood spots leaking into the back of his canvas vest. Leo was dying, and yet he kept fighting.

Fighting for you.

You refused to let his sacrifice be in vain. You turned your attention back to the roof beneath your fingers. The skylight was part of the floor of the flat roof of the house. If you managed to get your body through the sill, you could potentially be able to run from rooftop to rooftop to safety.

You used what little leverage you had in your arms and legs to push yourself up. It hurt, the glass dug into your fatigues and was no doubt embedding itself into your skin, but you hardly felt it.

Leo called out your name in a gritted scream.

You had to keep going.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You kept squirming and clawing your way up, pulling your right knee through the window. That was the final amount of leverage you needed. With a hard kick, you threw yourself a couple feet away from the skylight. You sucked in a well needed breath and turned over to fall on your knees.

You'd made it.

All you had to do was stand up and make a running jump to the next banister. You presumed it couldn't have been more than five feet away. Totally doable, even for your smaller stature. You got your right foot underneath you, using your hands to push up from the floor.

Something wrapped around your right ankle, squeezing so impossibly tight you felt the joints squeak. You cried out in pain, trying to right yourself, but falling onto your left side. You looked down at your legs to see what had ahold of you.

Fear froze you in place.

Through the darkened hole of the skylight, surrounded by broken glass, was the dark figure of a man's head. He was covered in all black, save for the bleached white skull he stared at you through. His eyes were so dark and smothered in kohl that only the whites of his eyes were truly visible.

He looked alien.

And he had a terrifyingly casual hold of your ankle with only one hand.

"Got you..." He hummed, his voice deep and dark and dangerous.

The panic finally kicked in, in full force. You screamed and threw your entire body weight away from the strange monster of a man. It seemed he anticipated your move because he tugged back at the same time you tried to surge forward. You gained absolutely no ground.

Tears began to blind your vision and you clawed and kicked with your free foot. You miscalculated. The extra foot was his next target. With his other hand, he snatched your free ankle into his grip.

You fell to the ground, kicking and screaming. Your leg muscles burned, your heart felt like it was about to explode with panic. You tried so desperately to use what was last of your strength to wiggle free, but it was no use.

With one very hard yank, he pulled you backward. In what felt like slow motion you watched as you were torn away from the sunny afternoon, the terracotta bricks and laundry clotheslines of freedom. You fell down and down and down into the darkness of the bedroom prison that was sure to be your tomb. Your nails caught on the texture of the wall as you belly flopped onto the bed below.

All of the air was forced out of your lungs. The fall had only been a few feet, but the impact of hitting your ribcage on the metal bedsprings of the mattress was enough to wind you. You sputtered and coughed, subconsciously curling up on yourself. The blankets tangled into the soles of your boots as you tried to put distance between yourself and your attacker.

A beat passed, and you gasped out, finally getting a lung full of air. You panted hard, putting your arms over your face, expecting a flurry of blows or a knife in your ribs.

"Who do you work for?" The man asked as he slowly stepped off the bed with heavy, measured footsteps.

Hysterically, you sobbed, refusing to look at his masked face. Despite your fear, you felt him come around the side of the bed to lean over your face. In a complete panic move, you kicked yourself backward, only serving to push yourself deeper into the corner of the bed against the wall.

It seemed the masked man's patience was dwindling. He roughly grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you with enough force to slam the back of your head against the wall. The pain, luckily, did clear your head enough to actually answer the question he asked.

"K-KORTAC!" You stammered out. "I-I work for K-Kortac! C-cyber tech o-operator!"

The man looked down at you with an odd sort of interest. He looked down at your legs, seemingly off in thought. The light that filtered down from the broken window cast him half in shadow and half in light. Behind him, on the floor, lay a body in a growing pool of blood.

"Leo..." You hiccuped out in recognition, feeling an intense pull of hysteria.

The man didn't even glance back at your fallen comrade. Instead, slowly, his eyes panned up your body until his gaze landed right on the Kortac chest insigna of your kit. Tears plinked down your lashes and into the canvas material.

The mystery man clicked a button on a comm unit tacked to the front of his vest. A man on the other end yelled out a callsign through static.

"Ghost! Ghost! How copy?" The voice had an accent you couldn't make out in your addled state.

"Copy, Soap." The masked man (Ghost, you presumed) spoke back. "Get to exfil now. Don't wait for me."

"But Ghost-"

"I said don't wait for me, sergeant." Ghost nearly yelled in annoyance. "Exfil in 40, out."

He stopped pressing the button on his comm unit and looked down at you once more. His expression was unreadable. You tried to make yourself seem as small as possible before him.

Ghost slowly glanced over his shoulder with only his eyes. He seemed to give Leo's dead body a short once over before he focused his attention on you again.

"You shag 'im?" He asked.

"Wh-...what?"

"You shag 'im?" He asked again, this time using your name to make the question somehow even more personal.

You looked up at him in a mix of horror and revulsion. What kind of question was that? This man had pursued you like an animal, murdered one of the few men you respected in cold blood, and now wanted to know if you'd been fucking that man while his dead body was still warm?

"F-fuck you." You choked out. Despite feeling drained off all your physical strength, you still had some mental fortitude left.

Ghost let out a soft huff. Whether or not it was a noise of amusement or annoyance, you couldn't tell.

You screeched as he grabbed the front of your kit with one hand. He lifted you out of the corner and slammed you back down in the center of the bed. The metal base squeaked and groaned but held up beneath the impact of your body again. You yelped out as he took his other hand and pulled out a wicked looking knife from his belt. The edges glinted with red, drying blood.

You tried to bat away his hand but he was significantly stronger than you. Even with all your might, he didn't budge. Running on pure fear and self-preservation, you dipped your head down towards his wrist. You clamped your teeth down hard against his gloves. He brought the knife up to your kit but stopped.

He made that noise again. And this time, it seemed to border on amusement.

The world turned black for a second.

When you came to, you could taste copper in your mouth. It ran hot down your nose and out the corners of your lips like drool. You groaned out pitifully, your body giving up any and all fight.

The bastard had knocked your lights out.

Despite all of your senses swimming in pain, you could feel your body physically lightening up in weight. With a bloody gurgle, you glanced down. Your kit and utility belt had been cut away, leaving you in just your fatigues.

"There we go. Good girl." He grumbled, putting his knife away. Something about the tenderness of his voice did not match up with his actions.

You whined out a cry, and he let you. He made no move to deck you again. Instead, unzipped your pants, hooked his fingers into the waistband, and yanked down.

You tried to pull your legs up and away but barely managed to twitch them. Your pants grew tangled around your still boot clad ankles. Ghost took absolutely no time in ripping it all off your body, making you sob as he twisted your already sore ankles.

"Stop..." You hiccuped weakly. "Please."

Roughly, he pushed the hem of your longsleeve up and over your breasts. He jerked it up over your shoulders so hard the fabric snapped and ripped. He threw the ruined garment to the side, seemingly too enraptured by the sight of your near naked body.

Weakly, you put a hand up to his chest as he put his knee up on the bed. There was no strength behind your push, and it seemed to amuse him. He let out a cruel chuckle and pinned your hand over your head as he positioned his entire body between your thighs.

Tears spilled so freely down your cheeks and neck that they soaked the bedsheets beneath your head. This was wrong. He had to know this was wrong. He couldn't do this. Could he?

"Please...no..." You whispered.

He didn't say anything, just breathed in slowly and steadily, eyes roaming over your entire body. He didn't move to touch you, or rip off your panties, or do anything else as monstrous as he'd done before. He just stared at you with an odd sort of fondness.

With his gloved hand he cupped at your face. You whimpered and cowered in his touch, but it was sweet, almost lover like. He wiped as much tears and blood from your face as he could, even taking the corner of a blanket to dab the excess body fluids away.

You were so confused and scared. What the hell was wrong with this guy? If he wasn't going to kill or rape you what did he want?

The hysteria finally set in.

How fucking funny was this? You couldn't find a decent man for years. Leo was the only one to come close, and even then, he was dead. And the two of you had barely been considered acquaintances. This big, fucking hulk of a monster knocked you out, ripped off your clothes, and now wanted to be tender with you all of a sudden?

You giggled once. Then that giggle turned into a chuckle. Soon enough, you were laughing softly against the hand cupping your face.

"I...what do you want?" You managed out between hysterical pants.

He didn't answer, just leaned his body down low over you. The bed protested hard beneath you both but stayed together. Slowly, he began to put his entire weight down on you.

At first, you wheezed, your beaten body unable to handle the load on top of it. Eventually, after enough time, you began to melt beneath him. Despite the discomfort of everything, his body felt warm and solid... and almost safe in a fucked up way you couldn't explain.

Ghost slid his other hand between you, cracking your legs apart. His still clothed core pressed up against yours. You knew that the too hard lump straining against the fabric was definitely not a gun.

"Why?" You asked meekly. "Why are you doing this?"

The man buried his mask clad face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled sharply before slowly breathing out.

"Mine." He admitted, giving your body an experimental thrust.

He groaned low in his throat. Again and again he thrust hard against your center, his cock grinding into your panty clad entrance.

What did he mean he "mine"? He was trying to fuck your forcefully pliant body. This man was a fucking lunatic. What in the godforsaken world di-

The head of his cock brushed up against the mound of your cunt. Despite the layers of clothes between them the head found its way just deep enough between your lips that he brushed up against your clit. Tears pricked in your eyes. Again and again and again, he pleasured you with each cant of his hips. You cried at the feeling. He wiped the tears away sweetly.

Why didn't he just rape you hard? Why did he have to drag this out, make it sweet? If he wanted your body so bad why didn't he just take it? He obviously had no qualms about using force.

"Thas' it, love." He murmured softly. "Just like that."

Was this some kind of sick fantasy? Did he truly believe you were into this? Or was he just pretending you were to fulfill some kind of fucked up need for human closeness?

He kept rutting against you, mumbling quietly against your neck. Most of it was filthy name calling, the rest was too damn sweet for the act he was committing.

"Fuckin' pretty thing you are. Not getting away from me." He muttered, seemingly half out of his mind. "Never getting away from me. Ever again."

You were so confused. Since when had you ever met this man before? You were certain you would've remembered him and all of his monstrous qualities. You tried hard to squirm away from his touch, but he kept you right where he wanted you to be.

"Never again, love. Not letting you slip through m' fingertips again." With his free hand, he pulled the front of your sports bra down. One of your breasts popped free of its confines and into his view.

"No please..." You begged.

"Should've thought of that before you ran off." He growled.

Words relaying your confusion immediately died in your throat. Ghost tugged the bottom portion of his mask up and then proceeded to pull your nipple into his mouth. He bit you hard, making you scream before letting up. He lapped at the aching bud, forcing it to harden into a throbbing peak. As if just to spite you, he traced your areola with his tongue, making your entire body shake with whiplash from the pleasure.

"Stop please!" You begged. "You're hurting me."

Ghost made that huffing noise again, his breath cooling the saliva against your nipple. He pulled your other breast out and pressed the two together. He swiped the flat of his tongue over both buds. You squeaked and tossed your head back.

"Thought you could hide behind your lil' computer, love?" He growled out, his drool leaking between your tits. "Thought I'd never find you?"

"Wha-?"

"Thought you could just drop off the face of th' Earth n' I'd never find you again?" He nearly yelled. "Should've known a slag like you was just in it for a paycheck."

"I don't...what?" You tried. "What do you mean?"

Ghost sat up to glower over your face. His jaw was set hard. You could see the veins in his neck since he'd pulled his mask up to his nose. You blinked tears out of your eyes. What you thought was the shadow of his jugular turned out to be the corner of a neck tattoo. One you immediately recognized.

"S-Simon?"

Despite his obviously bad mood he still managed to crack a smile. It was genuine and yet still so full of malice. His grin was still as beautiful as the night you'd met him. And the night you'd chosen to run away.

"I was scared!" You cried out in admittance.

"You were scared?" He chuckled. "When every night you were in my bed n' cummin' on me?"

It had been years since you'd seen him. You'd been mere weeks out of university, adrift and broke, but with a shiny new certificate in computer science. Just to get a free meal here and there, you'd found yourself going out on dates with random men. You'd never had much luck with men, and so it was easy to forget their many faces.

But Simon's you could never forget.

He'd been quiet, almost too quiet. He'd exclusively asked you questions about yourself in a much meeker voice. Come to think of it, he'd sounded like a different person the whole time. Did he do it on purpose so as not to intimidate you? Or was it a side effect of the pills he was taking while he'd been on medical leave?

He'd made it clear the two of you weren't going to be long term. And you were okay with that. It wasn't until you got a job at a programming firm that he started getting leery. When you made it clear your fling of a relationship wasn't going to work he'd retreated. And then he came back...lurking in the shadows.

"I-you were stalking me!"

"You still have no idea what I've done for you."

For a moment the two of you looked at each other. The pure terror of a moment ago was starting to wash away. This man was no longer a complete, deranged stranger willing to murder you in cold blood. He was still unhinged and dangerous, but he'd shown he wasn't going to kill you immediately. Your chances of getting out of this situation were much more likely. You appreciated those odds.

"What did you-"

"Y' think i' was a coincidence?" He hummed, cocking his head slightly. "Getting that job. N' endin' up here?"

"Simon-"

"You were meant for me." Ghost said with pure conviction. "You were meant to be next to me...under me."

The egoistical side of you wanted to fight, to scream, to make it clear you'd never want him ever again. The other side was absolutely certain that to live through this encounter was to appeal to him. You'd done it before and it'd worked. It was partially why you'd slept with him so much back then. And why you'd forced yourself to cuddle into his iron grip afterwards.

"On your back. On your knees..." He kept trailed off, eyes drooping in arousal. You felt a hard twitch between your legs.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of your dead, fucked out body being haphazardly tossed on top of Leo's. You needed to live. You'd do whatever you had too. And you knew what'd it take.

"S-Simon...I-look I'm sorry." You swallowed hard, tasting nothing but copper. "You scare me sometimes, but I-I still really care about you."

"Don't lie to me, lovie." He scoffed. The usage of his old nickname made you shudder.

"Simon...I've never stopped thinking about y-you." You sighed out, feeling your skin flush with embarrassment for admitting such a thing. It was marginally a lie since you mostly thought about him with fear in your heart. But there was a part of you who missed his body, his hands, and how'd he'd fuck you apart night after night.

"Please....I-" You slowly moved to sit up on your elbows. As you did your core inadvertently brushed against him. A warm jolt of pleasure shot up through your spine and you couldn't help but bite your lip.

There was a new tension in the air.

"Always such a fuckin' minx." Ghost growled.

"J-just for you." You admitted, forcing your gaze away from Leo's body. "I swear..."

"I know." Ghost hummed, cupping your face in his palm. The sweet gesture made your lashes flutter.

"You're a good girl." He said, as if off in thought. "Just needed a break. N' now you're back, back w' me."

"I..." You blinked, feeling tears well in your eyes. You were playing right into his hand. You knew it, and yet...a part of you didn't care.

He'd pulled strings, murdered and God knows what else just to give you a life outside of him. It'd all been one big, nasty lie just to make you feel good. Just so your inevitable fall back into his arms would feel earned. Because you didn't earn anything. Your entire life trajectory had been an unearned lie. But somehow, someway, you'd earned his affections. And that was all that seemingly mattered in your life.

"Mm...missed you, love." He sighed.

With that he kissed you softly. He was too sweet, too loving. It made your heart ache. You couldn't stop the few sobs that escaped. He didn't seem to care as he licked over your blood tinged tongue. He tasted like he'd always had. Like fresh cigarettes and bitter pine. Your head swam.

"Fuck. M' missed the way you taste." Ghost sighed, licking his lips.

He roughly tugged your panties, making the stitching pop, forcing the elastic to dig into your flushed skin.

"W-wait I-" You squeaked.

It didn't matter. With an easy flick of his wrist the entire garment came off with a rip. The amount of strength and tension used on the cotton practically burned your skin as it was forced off of you. You cried out in discomfort, trying desperately to close your legs, but it was of no use.

Without another second to lose, Ghost hooked his arms up beneath your legs and forced them up. He pushed them back so hard and so quickly he forced the air out of your lungs. You gasped, trying to right yourself.

"There w' go." He growled, staring at your now bare cunt, your knees up to your ears. He kissed your mound, nuzzling his nose into the dusting of hair, breathing you in.

A part of you felt disgusted. You'd been sweating out in the desert, sweating in fear of him, and it seemed he was drinking it all in. Truly a beast he was.

"See you haven't shaved." He hummed, giving a few broad laps to your folds. With each lick, a bit of his thick saliva grew matted into the light dusting of hair. You whimpered.

"Good." He chuckled.

You yelped when he slipped his tongue into you. It was thick and wide and he'd never had any issues getting you open this way. He much preferred to lick your cunt lips apart to accommodate him than sully his fingers. You hated this despite how good it felt. His fingers were always a bit less personal. This way? You had no choice but to watch as he devoured you like a starving man.

You supposed he was.

He'd made it clear you were his and his alone. And if that was the case, then he was only yours too. At least, you'd hoped so. You hoped no other woman would ever be subjected to this torment.

You cried out, legs shaking from the stress but also the pleasure. You tried so hard not to watch him drill his fat tongue right between your lips. He was drooling, his saliva spilling down and down over your neglected clit and onto your squashed tits. He wiggled his tongue in a way that brushed over that rough spot he liked torment. He bullied the tip of his tongue as deep as he could, letting it point right between the gummy ridges of your g-spot. You couldn't help yourself.

It'd been years.

Every man you'd ever talked to had scorned you or disgusted you. You'd never wanted to touch one until Leo had come into your life. And even then, he was untouchable. You'd been too nervous to flirt. At the time you didn't know why, but now, you'd subconsciously known you'd had a skull on your back. Perhaps you were getting a slight kindness for staying untouched all this time.

You cried as you came. Your hips bucked and writhed. Your spine protested, your head swam from the lack of blood flow. Everything floated away for a gorgeous second before your soul slammed back into your addled body.

"Fuckin' 'ell..." Ghost purred. As he talked a wetness spilled out of his mouth. For a brief second you wondered if he was really drooling that much. "C'mon, lovie. Give it to me."

"Wha-"

Ghost latched onto your clit and sucked so hard you screamed. You felt two of his fingers slip inside you with no resistance. They bullied that spot again while he forced pleasure out of your nub. The first orgasm didn't have a chance to fade into an afterglow. The second orgasm came quickly. It burned. Your belly muscles didn't even have a chance to relax.

"Simon!" You mewled, absolutely lost.

He wouldn't stop. He kept taking and taking and taking. He let his teeth graze at the sensitive flesh of your clit. You saw stars again. This time, the orgasm was so violent you screamed. Every bone in your body shook. Your eyes rolled up into the back of your head.

You came to with the warm splashes of wetness against your breasts. A familiar and yet foreign pressure in your belly was being released. More warm wetness dripped quickly onto your neck and chin. You let out a weak cry.

When you finally managed to open your bleary eyes you realized what'd happened. The entire bottom half of Ghost's face was shiny with slick. He huffed against you with pure excitement in his eyes. Your cum coated the inside of his mouth with the telltale sheen of cream.

"Knew you were a squirter." He grinned at you.

It was as if your orgasm was a feast for him. He hungrily lapped every ounce of your relief off of your body. To get to your cummy chest he released your legs. They fell apart, and you groaned in relief. Fresh blood finally flowed to your head, and you grew dizzy.

"Ah ah, no goin' soft in th' head on me now, lovie." Simon hummed as he laved his big tongue over your wet breasts. He slapped your cheek. Not enough to really hurt you, but certainly enough to clear up the stars in your eyes.

"Simon..." You hiccuped.

"Only got a few minutes left." He mused, eyes scouring over your entirely bare body.

Despite wanting to fight him, your extremities felt like jelly. You couldn't even catch your breath. All you could do was lay there in complete submission.

Without a warning, Ghost used his strength to flip you completely over. He forced you up onto your knees and pressed your face into the now tainted sheets.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but there wasn't much of a point anymore. No one was coming to help, and even if they did they'd be dead before they could process what was even happening to you. Ghost was going to take you. And you'd asked for it.

It beat death, right?

He entered you roughly from behind. Luckily, he'd prepped you well, so there wasn't any pain. Just the warm, muted burn of him stretching you open for the first time in years. You'd forgotten what the feeling of sex was like. You couldn't help the low groan that escaped your lungs.

Ghost was right there with you. He hissed loudly, gritting his teeth as he sunk right into you. His big, gloved hands palmed roughly at your ass. He forced your cheeks apart to no doubt give him an excellent view of where you joined together. You squeaked when you felt a couple of his thick fingers spread your lips apart even further.

"Fuckin' 'ell." He groaned. "Missed this tight lil' cunt o' yours."

You whimpered.

"Next time I'll make sure you get the fuck you deserve, lovie." He growled. "But m' runnin' short on time."

"Si-."

A hand roughly grabbed your throat and squeezed. You opened your mouth in shock but nothing came out. No words, no air, just a silent shock.

Ghost began to move, fucking you roughly. He wasted no time in forcing his fat cock back into those parts of yourself you didn't know existed. He kept his grip tight. You couldn't breathe in or out. Tears and panic began to well in your chest.

With the smallest amount of energy you had left, you tried to claw his hands away, but he just choked you tighter. The mix of fear, lack of oxygen, and pleasure was too much for your brain. Black spots began to form in your vision.

"There we...ngh-go." He huffed. Every thrust was punishing. You could feel his sharp hipbones and hefty balls slap into your core. Your only saving grace from the stinging contact was the cushion of your innate softness.

You began to choke. The pressure building in your chest and behind your eyes was immense. The entire room was spinning. Drool spilled past your open, air hungry lips. The black spots began to completely fill your vision. Everything started to float away into that dark, sleepy place.

"Fuck." Ghost panted, his thrusts becoming uneven. "Fuck!"

The moment he came, he let up on your airway.

Everything had turned black for you. When you finally came to, completely out of it, the entire act was over. It hurt to much to move, but you could feel the wet cream between your legs. It had been awhile but you could never forget the feeling of being stuffed with Simon's seed.

His comm unit made a static-y noise and he answered it.

"M' on m' way. Five minutes to exfil." He hummed. "N' I managed to catch a lil' bird."

Ghost didn't wait for his teammate to respond, instead he lazily got off the bed. He eyed your body, smirked, then pulled his mask back down.

"I hope you learned your lesson, lovie." He said, lovingly rubbing your cheek. "Time t' come home."

You couldn't make any noise, your voice stolen from you. You couldn't even swallow. All you could do was lay there and look at him as he took to work getting you dressed again. He was haphazard and rough. Anything he couldn't put back on you, he didn't. The last thing he adorned you with were ziptie handcuffs to your hands and feet.

Ghost then threw you over his shoulder and headed back out the way he came. He didn't even bother to walk over Leo's corpse. Instead, he opted to step directly onto the dead man's head. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to block out the sickening, wet sound.

The sunlight burned but its blinding, white rays were welcoming. You'd never thought you'd see the light of day again, and so the blistering heat of it was welcome. Something told you to relish in it, as it might be awhile before you'd get to see it again.

The position over Ghost's shoulder made it impossible to look up. The only thing you could see were the back of his legs and feet. However, you could hear the sound of men yelling and running around. They began to get washed out by a helicopter whirring, it's blades cutting the air and cooling the sweat on your skin.

Ghost stepped onto the helicopter and unceremoniously dropped you to the metal plated floor. You couldn't even groan in pain as your leg took the brunt of the fall. All you could do was lay there, restrained and in so many different versions of pain.

The small grouping of men in tactical gear hungrily eyed your body. Each one was more distinctive than the last. One of them slow whistled and when he spoke you recognized him as the man over the comm unit.

All of the men, including Ghost, stood around you. They discussed your fate, each one getting more and more creative as they went on. The one in charge, the one with the beard smiled sweetly down at you. He wiped a stray tear away from your face with the back of his curled index finger.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Simon. We'll get 'er to sing for us."

In that moment, you realized you should've asked Leo to shoot you when you had the chance.

#simon riley x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 headcanons #captain price

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storm-angel989 · 4 months ago

Note

Sorry if I've been the one filling up your inbox and it's annoying and my requests don't make sense but could you do a Valentino's daughter where shes m0lested by her teacher sorry if it's to dark or anything but I would really love to see this in your style love your work and style thank you (and reader is like 17-18)

Hi there,

This is a very real and intense traumatic experience that so many people have been through. I don’t write explicit scenes involving minor characters, and with my lack of personal experience within this topic, writing anything as such isn’t something I’m confident or comfortable doing. That being said, I didn’t want to not honor your request, so I tweaked it slightly to make it Valentino’s reaction to his daughter’s horrific ordeal. I hope that my writing justifies the trauma that reader has gone through and perhaps helps someone, somewhere find healing.

<3 Mandy

Valentino couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the way his daughter had been acting lately just felt off.

“She’s just growing up, Val,” Velvette reassured him over coffee one morning. “She’s a senior in high school. Probably worried about college. Didn’t you say she was thinking about going up to Ozzie’s territory? Or Mammon’s? That’s a pretty big jump from here.”

“Not to mention quite a long way from her family,” Vox added. “Add in the stress of senior year? No wonder she seems a little bit more tired than usual.”

Still, despite their reassurances, Valentino couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t take him long to decide that he would get to the bottom of this, one way or another. A conversation definitely seemed warranted- light prodding, just to assure her someone was here if she needed to vent. Make sure she knew she was loved, and had support around her.

And to start, he decided, he would pick her up from practice himself that night.

Signing into the highschool wasn’t technically necessary- after all, he and the other V’s owned the building in which he stood. But he wouldn’t brush aside the safety protocols. After all, they were in place for a reason. He made his way down the hallway towards the gym, pausing when he watched a plethora of laughing girls emerge from the locker room. He recognized several of them as her teammates.

“Excuse me, ladies. Have you seen my daughter, ehm, reader?” He asked.

He wasn’t expecting the uncomfortable silence that greeted him. Several of them looked away. An odd feeling settled in his gut and his eyes met the eyes of the girl he knew reader considered her best friend.

“Readers Best Friend, where is she?” He asked softly.

“Mr. Cavallero’s room,” she muttered. “ It’s her turn. You might not want to….”

Valentino didn’t wait for her to finish. One of the perks of owning the school- he knew each room, each teacher and the layout of the building like the back of his hand. As Valentino silently rushed his way towards the classroom, that bad feeling in his gut solidified.

Half dressed. Eyes glazed over. Apologies. Daddy, I’m sorry. His jacket, wrapped around her bare shoulders. The scene blurred together as Valentino’s anger took over. He grabbed the so called teacher by his neck and slammed him against the wall.

“Baby. Go call Uncle Vox and tell him to come pick you up. Right now.”

To him, his voice sounded calm. But as soon as his daughter left, he unleashed the fury reserved only for the worst offenders. By the time Vox arrived, there was nothing left- no trace that such a teacher had ever been in existence. Slowly, he took a drag from his cigarette and stared at the disheveled desk before shifting through the papers.

Minors. The son of a bitch was going after girls he had no business touching. Valentino’s lip curled in disgust. Even he, as the overlord of lust and depravity, ensures that no child would ever cross paths in his studio. No being would participate in his lucrative business until they were of age, able to understand and consent to what he was offering. He could feel his blood boil and suddenly, an eerie calm washed over him.

“I want every data point on this creature,” Valentino said to the open room. “I want every girl on that team to speak to someone, and I want to ensure that whoever hired him loses their job, and whoever hired that person also loses their job.” He lifted the cigarette to his lips, “and I want every single classroom, corner and crevice in this school and all the others to be equipped with cameras. And a team hired to monitor them.”

“Val, are you…”

Valentino ignored him as he turned and walked out of the room. “Where is my daughter?”

“She went home with Velvette, Valentino, what did you do?”

Valentino exhaled a cloud of red smoke as he walked out the front door of the building. “I eliminated a problem, Vox.”

Vox stared at him as understanding washed over him. His fingers flew over his phone and in seconds, there would be no consequences for Valentino’s actions. There would be no court case, no trial, no follow up and dramatic, made for tv rehashing of the trauma these girls had gone through. With the existence of that monster gone, the beings he had hurt would be able to get the help they would need to continue on with their lives.

Vox followed him out the door and got into the limo next to him. A quick ride later, and Valentino extinguished his cigarette just before he walked into their flat.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” her words echoed as he made his way down to her bedroom. He felt his anger begin to rise and he took a deep breath before he knocked on the door.

“Bebita?” he asked softly as he surveyed the room.

His daughter, curled up and crying as Velvette sat next to her. Velvette looked at him and he made his way across the room.

“Daddy, I…”

“You have no reason to apologize and I need no explanation,” Valentino replied calmly. “Let me be very clear, mi amore. I am not angry, I am not upset, and I do not blame you. But I do need to know if you’re physically hurt.”

To his relief, she shook her head no.

“Good. We can talk in your own time, when you’re ready but for now…for now baby, know that I will protect you..” Valentino reached out, an offering of his arms. To his relief, she wrapped her arms around him and he held her in a hug.

“No one will ever hurt you like that again,” he said softly. “I promise.”

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 6 months ago

Text

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 3

Part 2

Hero did not win. They woke up back in their bed, a few bruises blooming across their body, with the beginnings of a black eye. They groaned, sitting up.

“Ow…” Hero mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Hero jolted, and immediately regretted it, as that only served to aggravate their angry bruises. They turned their head- ow- and saw Supervillain sitting at their bedside. Their brows were knitted together, and their mouth was drawn in a thin line. Oh, Hero had really screwed up now.

“I, um,” Hero stammered, “listen, if you’re going to kill me- please just make it quick-”

Supervillain’s expression softened. They held out an ice pack to Hero.

“I’m not angry with you, Snow Angel,” he said, “though I am a bit upset you ignored my instructions.”

Hero cautiously took the ice pack and held it up to their swollen eye. They used their powers to make the pack a little colder.

Supervillain grabbed a glass of water and two small pills off the nightstand. Hero eyed the pills warily.

“they’re not drugs,” Supervillain said, “just pain relievers.”

Even if they were drugs, what choice did Hero have? They took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

“I’m afraid your little stunt has forced my hand- I’ve had to increase your security,” Supervillain said, taking the empty glass from Hero, “but before we get into anything else, let me apologize.”

Hero blinked in surprise.

“I gave my men strict orders that you are not to be harmed under any circumstances,” Supervillain said, “the henchman who apprehended you seemed to have forgotten that. You won’t have to worry about them anymore, however. The only thing they’ll be doing now is fertilizing my plants.”

Hero’s face went pale. So now someone was dead because of them.

“Oh, Snow Angel,” Supervillain sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by telling me why the heck you brought me here in the first place!” Hero shouted, “I can tell you right now I’m not going to be your living weapon!”

“Who said you were?” Supervillain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s very heavily implied- it’s- it’s- if it’s not that then what for!?”

There was an all-too-convenient knock on the door, and Supervillain was more than happy to take the opportunity to go open it and forget about Hero’s question entirely. A henchman walked in, pushing a cart full of breakfast food inside. Supervillain thanked them; the henchman nodded and left the room. Supervillain sat back down at Hero’s bedside and set a tray from the top shelf of the cart in their lap.

“That isn’t drugged either,” Supervillain said, reading Hero’s face.

Hero’s eyes bounced from the tray of food, to Supervillain, to the food, to Supervillain, and finally back to the food. Hesitantly, they took a very, very small bite… and melted.

“Good, isn’t it?” Supervillain smiled.

“Mhm…” Hero agreed.

Their mouth was in heaven, and before they knew it, the plate was empty.

“Judging by the state of this-” Supervillain held up the cleared plate, “-someone was indeed hungry. First you sleep for almost a whole day, then this. It’s a good thing I bought you when I did, you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

“Wha- I have not been neglecting myself!” Hero protested.

“Hm,” Supervillain hummed, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Supervillain took the tray up, setting it back on the cart and pushing it to the side. They got up, holding their hand out to Hero. Hero eyed it with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the grounds?” Supervillain prompted.

Hero blinked. Yes, actually, they very much would. If they knew the layout of Supervillain’s home, the easier it would be to escape it. Hero took Supervillain’s hand and slid on some slippers that had been left out for them. Supervillain smiled and led Hero out of the room.

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#whump #an offer you can't refuse #fight aftermath #carewhumper #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writing #creative writing #snippet #kidnapping #writeblr #captivity #drugging mention

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fairyniceyeah · 4 months ago

Text

🧭🐶 You got me losing patience

Title from Case 143 (Stray Kids)

Summary: Seungmin slips on stage and to make matters worse, it’s because he is already sick with the stomach flu. Getting treatment at the hospital doesn’t go well.

CW: emeto, injuries, blood, needles, hospitals

Sickie/Whumpee: Seungmin Caretaker: Bang Chan + Minho/Lee Know

🧭🐺

“Channie?”, Minho asked as he approached the leader. Chan turned around, the smile slipping from his face as he saw the worried face of his oldest dongsaeng.

“Minho-yah, what’s wrong?”, he asked, abandoning the jewelry he had started taking off. They had just finished their Case 143 Mnet Comeback-Stage and now that the nerves weren’t high anymore, he had looked forward to a relaxed evening. Apparently it wasn’t to be so, judging by the way Minho was chewing on his lower lip.

“Have you seen Seungminnie? Did he go with the medics already?”, Minho asked and for a moment Chan swore his heart had stopped beating in his chest. Why would Seungmin go with the medics? Had something happened he had not noticed? How couldn’t he have?

“Wha … why?”, he stammered, heart pounding faster now, seemingly trying to cancel out the skipped beats.

“Oh, right. You couldn’t have seen. He slipped while doing the spin we do during Changbinnie’s rap. I saw he twisted his ankle but he seemed to be able to continue. Now, however, I can’t find him”, Minho explained.

“I … no, I haven’t seen him”, Chan said nervously, “I thought he was behind me when we left the stage. Hyung?” He called over a manager. “Did you see Seungmin-ah?”

The older manager frowned and shook his head. “No, I haven’t … you don’t know where he is either?”

Chan and Minho shook their heads. At least the rest of the group hadn’t noticed the rising tension yet. Hyunjin and Felix were sprawled on top of each other on a couch in their waiting room with Hyunjin and Jeongin talking quietly. Han and Changbin were dancing around full of energy, celebrating. All of them were swarmed by staff members carrying make-up kits, fans and towels.

“No, we uh …”, Chan stuttered. He felt awful. It was bad enough that he apparently was missing a member in a space that - while just for idols - was more public than he liked. The building was huge, it was easy to get lost and there were other groups all around them, all stressed and under pressure.

Seungmin had never fared that well with emotional stress and confrontations. If he was hurt to add onto that … Chan did not want to think about how the young vocalist must be feeling.

“Maybe he went to the bathroom”, Chan lied - well, it wasn’t really a lie. Maybe a white lie. There was a chance that Seungmin was in a bathroom after all. “We’ll go look for him.”

The manager, having been with them since the beginning, knew that Chan would never stay back when a member was concerned. So he just sighed and nodded.

“Be safe, stay together and call if you don’t find him in the next fifteen minutes.”

Without any thought to the other five members, Chan and Minho slipped out the door.

🧭🐺

Sometimes Chan hated being right - the building was huge and built like a labyrinth. While he knew that Seungmin had a good sense of direction, he didn’t know what state the younger was in. If he truly was injured he would likely choose to hide, not liking showing vulnerability, especially not surrounded by sunbaes and hobaes.

They had checked the bathrooms first, hoping that maybe Seungmin had decided to hide there. It had been a futile hope - they were crowded and it was clear that Seungmin would never go there then. So they had resigned themselves to walk through every hallway and pray they found their vocalist soon. Chan could tell Minho was nervous and he himself was barely faring any better.

At least they quickly understood the layout of the building. All horizontal hallways going off from the main hall would have waiting rooms at the front, with storage rooms in the back and would end with a dead end.

The leader had already lost count of how many hallways they had been in hoping that Seungmin was somewhere between the stage and their own waiting room. Had it been five? Six?

“Do you hear that?”, Minho suddenly asked, grasping Chan’s jacket and shushing him. For a moment all Chan could hear was the bustling of a crowded building but then he heard a whimpering sound at the end of the hallway they were in.

“Do you think that is him?”, Minho whispered, eyes wide.

Chan had never heard Seungmin make such a sound before but they also were running out of options. He was scared of the state he might find the younger in if that would reduce him to … this.

“I … I don’t know. Let’s check.”

They walked towards the end of the hallway, trying to hear where the sound was coming from. It definitely came from the end of the hallway, three or four doors down. The last door was open and the sound seemed to come from there. Grasping each other's hands tightly, they peered inside.

Yet … nothing was inside the room, nothing where Seungmin could hide.

Yet … the whimpering was louder than ever, now joined by a sniffling sound.

Stepping outside the room, Chan closed the door with a sigh. He should have known.

There, on the hallway floor, squeezed between the wall and the previously open door, sat their missing vocalist curled into himself with his head buried in his knees. Seungmin looked so young like this, hugging himself tightly.

Minho gasped beside him but Chan paid him no mind, too focused on their youngest.

“Hey, Min-ah”, Chan whispered and knelt down by his dongsaeng’s side. Seungmin ignored him or maybe hadn’t even heard him. Reaching out, Chan gently cupped Seungmin’s cheek with his palm, his pinky under Seungmin’s chin. There was undeniable heat radiating from the younger.

A fever? Chan wondered briefly how high it was and how that had happened. Had Seungmin been feverish before the stage already? Or was his injury that bad?

They could figure that out later. As Minho sent a text to the manager, Chan lifted Seungmin’s head so they could look at each other. Nevertheless, the vocalist refused to meet his eyes. Up close Seungmin looked even worse - face ashen pale and streaked with snot and tears. Trailing his eyes downward, following Seungmin’s gaze, Chan wondered how he had not noticed the smell earlier. Behind him he heard Minho mutter a worried: “Oh, Min-ah.”

There was a watery puddle of vomit on Seungmin’s pale pink sweater vest, staining it darker. It seemed to be mostly liquid, a bit of what looked like rice visible, but that made it clear how unwell Seungmin truly was. It seemed like he had been feeling sick earlier too - that at least would explain the lack of food in his throw up.

Chan felt his heart break for his ill dongsaeng and at the same time he was beating himself up. How could he have not noticed that Seungmin was not feeling good? But regrets were for later, now they had a sick and injured dongsaeng on their hands.

“Hyungies?”, Seungmin rasped, his voice raw and wet from crying. He sounded awfully young, younger than the sixteen year old Chan had met years ago. There was desperation to his voice and deep, deep exhaustion.

“We’re here, baby”, Minho quickly reassured, kneeling down beside Chan and using his own sleeve to wipe at Seungmin’s wet face. It was cute really, how he was able to quickly change from his loud, boisterous camera personality to the caring and sweet soul only they were able to experience. “We got you.”

Chan nodded at that, stroking back sweat-soaked hair. “We’re not going anywhere. Can you tell hyungs what happened?”

Seungmin looked up at them, eyes watering with tears that spilled over and trailed down his cheeks before Minho was able to wipe them away.

“I … I wasn’t feeling well all day and, uh, I threw up this morning and earlier before sound check. I thought I could push through but then I twisted my ankle during the dance and I was feeling so sick and it hurt and I was so overwhelmed and…” The words spilled from Seungmin’s lips like a waterfall, coming faster with each second and causing him to choke on air. He coughed hoarsely, nearly gagging again.

“Oh, baby. Why didn’t you say earlier?”, Chan whispered, hurting with Seungmin but also so worried why the younger hadn’t trusted him with his sickness. At this point he wouldn’t even have cared if Seungmin had entrusted himself to any of the other members but himself or staff even, just to anybody to stop this from happening. “I could have figured something out.”

“I wanted to … but you were so stressed earlier with Sungie’s anxiety and … and I wanted to perform anyway. It was too late to change things and I … didn’t want to be left out”, Seungmin mumbled.

Chan sighed. He knew it was difficult for his dongsaeng to just stop and prioritize his well-being. He also knew that Seungmin had a hard time with his status as main vocalist even after all the years and felt the need to work harder than anyone else to not let anyone down. It was still hard to see his baby so unwell, alone and hurt in a random hallway after having thrown up on himself.

“I will always have time for you, Min-ah. If not, I will make time. You don’t owe anybody your health either…”, Chan replied, wanting to add more and wipe the insecurity from the younger’s mind. Minho’s hand on his knee stopped him.

“Seungminnie, do you think you can make it back to the waiting room so the medics can look you over?”, the dancer asked, shooting Chan an apologetic glance. I’m sorry for interrupting you but he needs medical intervention before we talk about his mental state. Chan nodded. You’re right.

“Hyung, my ankle really hurts”, Seungmin admitted, “I … I don’t think I can walk.” His lip wobbled dangerously and Chan was quick to intervene before he started crying again.

“How about I piggyback you?”, the leader suggested, “I know it’s not ideal but I really think you should get looked over as soon as possible.”

“Everyone will see…”, Seungmin whispered, looking down at his lap and cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

“Everyone will see an exhausted idol who did his best and needs some help from time to time, like everybody else”, Chan reassured. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time any of the staff or other idols had seen a sick or hurt member from a different group backstage. It was a sad reality in their line of work. “If it will make you feel better, you can take off your sweater? You could wear my jacket instead?”

Seungmin nodded gratefully, cheeks red in embarrassment. Quickly Chan took off his own black performance jacket while Minho helped Seungmin pull the soiled sweater vest over his head. It was not as difficult as they had feared, the sick already having seeped into the fabric and so not at risk of dripping everywhere. Still, it was disgusting - and Chan had to give Minho a lot of credit for schooling his face into a neutral expression. He was so happy his dongsaeng could take the soiled item off.

Quickly he wrapped the shivering Seungmin into his own warm performance jacket. The stylists would just have to deal with the loss.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?”, Minho asked worriedly, holding onto Seungmin’s hand. The dirty shirt laid abandoned on the floor.

“Kinda, yeah”, Seungmin whispered, swallowing.

“I’ll try to be steady, okay? Let us know if you need a break”, Chan said with a tiny smile. It was not ideal to carry a sick, queasy and easily embarrassed member through crowded halls but they had to make due.

Seungmin nodded.

Without further ado, Chan turned around, trusting Minho to help Seungmin on his back. Within a minute he had a warm weight on his back, arms hooked under Seungmin’s thighs and the younger’s face pressed into his neck. He was uncomfortably warm and already Chan was sweating again after the show - Seungmin’s temperature really must be through the roof. Briefly Minho helped Chan to his feet then he vanished to the side, one of his hands on Seungmin’s back in a gesture of comfort.

🧭🐺

The walk back - now that they knew where they were going - was much quicker. To their luck they didn’t meet many people in the hallway, just an idol group they didn’t recognize giving them worried glances.

Minho opened the door to the waiting room to let them in, only to be nearly bowled over by a worried Han. “Hyung, where were you? The managers wouldn’t say and I was wo … what happened to Seungminnie?” The rapper’s eyes went wide when he saw the younger carried in on Chan’s back.

The rest of the members stared in shock for a second before rushing over to try to check on Seungmin. Chan felt Seungmin’s grip on him tighten and there was a quiet whimper coming from him. He understood, he too wouldn’t want to be crowded in a situation like this. Seungmin was already overwhelmed and overstimulated - a bunch of rambunctious young men, even if caring and his best friends, wouldn’t do him any good.

“Changbinnie?”, Chan called over the chaos, “please take the others to the car and go home. Minho and I will stay here while Seungmin-ah is getting checked over by the medics, okay?”

Changbin looked rather reluctant to leave the vocalist’s side but he nodded, quickly herding Hyunjin, Han, Felix and Jeongin with the help of a few managers to the door. Soon only Chan, Minho, Seungmin and one manager were left.

Chan walked over to a couch, carefully setting Seungmin down. The younger immediately curled into himself and as Minho sat down on the floor next to him, he grasped his hyung’s hand tightly. He had his eyes squeezed shut and with the tears on his pale face and red flushes on his cheeks he looked the definition of pitiful. Chan sighed and made Seungmin stretch out his injured leg so he could elevate his foot on a pillow and the armrest of the couch. The younger just whimpered a bit, staying silent otherwise.

“What happened?”, the manager asked, frowning, and already on the phone with the building’s medics.

“Stomach flu, I guess”, Chan started to explain, “he said he threw up a few times today and then during the dance he twisted his ankle.”

The manager hummed and gave the information down the line to the medical operator, nudging a trash can closer to Seungmin with his foot.

🧭🐺

They had only waited for a few minutes - Chan at Seungmin’s head and playing with his hair, Minho holding his hand and whispering reassurances, and the manager in the corner to not overwhelm the vocalist - when suddenly Seungmin’s eyes shot open.

“Hyung”, he gasped, flailing around. He hiccoughed and then Minho shoved the bin under his face, seconds before his stomach contents spilled from his lips. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the trash bin was enough to make Chan nauseous just from watching. Seungmin gagged and another wave of brownish vomit came up, splattering into the previous mess.

Tears trailed down the young man’s face as he tried to get a breath in before he threw up again. It was awful to watch.

“Chan, hold this”, Minho said in a small moment of respite, “he needs to sit up more.”

Chan nodded and held the trash bin under Seungmin’s chin while Minho struggled with helping Seungmin sit upright, without touching his injured foot. It was obvious that the vocalist was really dizzy, clutching at his head in desperation.

Minho barely had time to sit down next to him on the couch and wrap an arm around him, so Seungmin could lean on him, before the singer gagged harshly. It was a painful sound and Chan didn’t want to imagine how badly it must be hurting his throat.

More sick came up without much more warning, spraying out of Seungmin’s mouth and nose as the young man sobbed. He was clutching at the bin with white knuckles.

Seungmin had never been good with vomit - despite the frequent migraines he suffered from. When he wasn’t half-blind with pain, vomiting was something that shook the younger to the core. He wasn’t necessarily emetophobic but he also was careful to take care of himself so he wouldn’t be sick. If he was sick despite trying hard to avoid it he always wanted somebody by his side. Still, his insecurities and fears of being a burden to his hyungs, had him ignore his mental well-being before, as he had today.

Chan was just glad he had somebody to hold him now.

“Hyung”, Seungmin whimpered, tearing Chan out of his thoughts. Chan let go of the bin with one hand to soothe the tight grip Seungmin had on the rim.

“It’s going to be okay, baby, we’re here”, Minho assured, rubbing Seungmin’s back.

As Seungmin panted over the bin, seemingly unsure if he was about to throw up again, the door opened - admitting a medic.

“Are you done?”, Chan asked gently, trusting the manager to speak with the paramedic before they tried to get closer. In this vulnerable position, Seungmin surely would not appreciate more eyes on him and prying questions.

“I don’t know, hyung, I don’t …”, Seungmin started but was cut off as his throat contracted again and he dry-heaved. It was pretty clear that he was basically empty.

“You’re going to be okay, baby”, Minho whispered, “let go of the bucket, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

He gestured at Chan to take the bin away, which the leader gladly did. He didn’t think he could watch Seungmin so miserable much longer without bursting into tears himself. As he turned back around, Minho had Seungmin straddling his lap and the vocalist’s fist clutching at the stage outfit he was still wearing. Seungmin was crying silently into his shoulder with Minho running circles over his back.

🧭🐺

“Chan-ssi, the paramedic needs to take a look at Seungmin-ah now”, the manager said after a moment.

Chan nodded and stood up from his position on the floor. “Min-ah”, he said quietly, placing a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder, “I’m sorry but can the medic check on you now? I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Seungmin whimpered and clutched at Minho even more tightly. The dancer looked up at Chan with a worry written all over his face. It was such an un-Seungmin-like behavior but then again, the younger really was not feeling well. It could also be attributed to the fact that he was, after all, burning up.

“Seungmin-ssi”, the young, female medic addressed the vocalist in a comforting voice, “you don’t even need to let go of your hyung, okay? I just need you to turn a bit so I can check your foot over, hm?”

After a few tense seconds, Seungmin nodded and let Chan move him so he was still half on top of Minho but his legs were stretched out so the medic had easy access. Chan settled down on the floor next to them, pushing the disgusting bin away. The manager nodded at him and took it from him, leaving to empty it out. Chan placed one hand on Seungmin’s back and the other on Minho’s arm. The dancer gave him a shaky smile in thanks.

“I’ll take your shoe off now, okay?”, the woman said and Seungmin jerkily nodded. He didn’t make a sound despite the pain, obvious in his tense shoulders and the way he clutched Minho even tighter.

🧭🐶

Seungmin buried his face in Minho’s chest, wishing he could just melt into his hyung. He was feeling terrible, his stomach churning, his ankle throbbing and even his arm was still hurting. He just wanted to go home. The paramedic was kind and careful but still it hurt when she touched and moved his ankle. Mino rubbed his back and Chan offered his hand to hold.

“Press as tightly as you need, Min-ah”, Chan whispered, “we got you.”

Between all the movement and the fever Seungmin was sure he had, at some point, passed out or at least spaced out all the way. Awareness returned to him when the medic let go of his foot and stood up.

“I can’t tell for sure if it’s broken or not. You need to go to the hospital for a CT or MRI scan to be certain. Until then, you can decide if you want an IV with pain meds first or not. I’d give up oral painkillers if you hadn't been throwing up, especially because they will put a new line in the hospital anyway. But considering your state I’d suggest the IV.”

Four pairs of expectant eyes turned to Seungmin and he shrunk under their glances. He didn’t want an IV. He’s never been a fan of needles and the thought of metal underneath his skin nauseated him. Besides, getting one now and then needing another one at the hospital - no, he didn’t think he could deal with that. He also didn’t want to go to the hospital but he knew none of his elders would allow it and deep down he knew he couldn’t avoid it anyways.

“I’m okay until the hospital.”

“Are you sure, Min-ah?”, Chan asked, kneeling down in front of Seungmin and taking his hands in his, “it will hurt a lot and we don’t know how soon they will take care of you. Being an idol only means privacy at the hospital, not necessarily better or faster service.”

“I’m sure”, Seungmin said, nodding resolutely. His future self would have to deal.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

🧭🐶

Chan carried him to the company car, gently helping Seungmin get situated while Minho took the opportunity to slip into the other backseat next to the injured vocalist.

“Hey, I wanted to sit next to Seungmin-ah”, Chan complained, pouting a bit. Seungmin shakily laughed at his expression of betrayal.

“Tough luck, Bang Chan-ssi”, Minho teased and clasped Seungmin’s hand in his. “I want Seungminnie-time too.”

It was ridiculous seeing the two oldest members play-fighting over him like that but it warmed Seungmin’s heart. It felt good to be loved this deeply. When Chan first approached him about joining his team, Seungmin hadn’t even dared dream of becoming this close to the members.

The lighthearted atmosphere was soon shattered though. Seungmin didn’t have a tendency to get carsick but with his stomach already upset as it was he felt every movement of the car and every bump in the street. As a rather deep pothole caused a burp to rise up his throat, Seungmin pressed the back of his free hand to his lips, partly nauseous and partly embarrassed. He always felt embarrassed by these bodily functions no matter how long he had been living only with young men roughly his age.

Along with the burp, nausea suddenly bubbled in his stomach again. Seungmin didn’t want to be sick again, he really really didn’t. But the heat that encompassed his whole body and the cold sweat starting to form at his temples hinted at a different outcome. His throat was tight, swallowing suddenly a difficult task.

Seungmin tapped the inside of Minho’s wrist and bent over, the other arm moving from his mouth to hold his stomach. He hoped it was enough for his hyung to understand what he needed. He didn’t think that only words would come out if he tried to speak at that moment.

Luckily Minho understood what he wanted and handed over the trash bin they had borrowed from M-Net’s waiting room. They had stored it in Minho’s footrest to allow Seungmin a bit more freedom and so he could accidentally hit his foot against it. Now Seungmin placed it onto his lap, curling over it. He was so exhausted, he let his head rest against the rim - unable to hold it up further.

A warm hand appeared on his back again and another ran through his hair, trying to soothe him. Another hand came to rest on his knee - Chan likely. Normally Seungmin would have felt overwhelmed with all the touches but now it was just comforting.

Another speed bump brought him out of his thoughts and before he even realized what happened, a mouthful of bile hit the bottom of the bin. The stench was burning his nose and Seungmin had to press his eyes shut as he saw the remnants of rice mushed up - he hadn’t eaten since breakfast but apparently even the rice he had shoved down back then hadn’t all come back up yet.

“It’s okay, baby”, Chan’s comforting voice said. “We’re nearly there.”

Nearly there turned out to be another ten minutes but in retrospect Seungmin had to thank his leader for his lie. Knowing they would soon be there helped him keep calm the rest of the ride.

🧭🐶

The wait in the hospital was excruciatingly long. A nurse had ushered Minho and Chan, who was again carrying Seungmin, and the manager into a private examination room - but already apologetically saying that just because they were in an examination room the wait might still be a long time.

It was. Seungmin was just glad he was allowed to lie down on the gurney, not sure if he would be able to stay upright in a chair. It was terribly cold in the room - even the members without high fevers (the nurse who had taken his vitals had announced it was pushing nearly 39.4°C) said it was. The manager had acquired one of those thin blankets and a pillow, while Chan hadn’t given one fuck and just laid down on the gurney with Seungmin. Seeing the young vocalist shiver, the leader hadn’t been able to endure.

Now snug under the blanket and in his leader’s arms, Seungmin was finally sleepy. His ankle pulsed and the nausea was still not gone fully but he was ready to drop off.

🧭🐶

“Wake up, baby”, Minho whispered, his breath tickling Seungmin’s ear. “A doctor is here to look you over.”

Seungmin groaned but forced himself to wake up. The sooner he got examined the sooner he could go home. Chan gently helped him sit up and face the young doctor standing in the room.

“I’m going to do an IV”, the doctor announced without further ado, not even a greeting or introduction. Maybe Seungmin had just not heard it when asleep. Before Seungmin even had a chance to hold out his arm, the doctor, now sitting on a chair, yanked his arm forward and forced the sleeve of Chan’s jacket Seungmin was still wearing up. It was rude and it hurt, but Seungmin swallowed the tears down. He was an adult after all. He didn’t want to seem like a baby in front of his hyungs, the manager and a stranger.

Without any warning, the doctor tied the tourniquet around Seungmin’s upper arm, pulling it tight. Already Seungmin could feel the skin there getting bruised. But the doctor knew best, right? “Hold still”, the doctor said, tone kind of aggressive.

Seungmin had to swallow harshly. He hadn’t even moved, had he? Why was the doctor so rude?

He prepared himself for the uncomfortable touch and pull of finding a vein. It had always been difficult for doctors to find his veins and Seungmin knew with just how dehydrated he was it would probably be really difficult that day.

The doctor sprayed the disinfectant on his elbow and then, he just … stabbed. He didn’t feel around, he didn’t didn’t test different places, he didn’t even check if there was a vein there. Surprised Seungmin let out a small yell, an expression of pain and fear. It hurt more than it should and well, the disinfectant burned.

“Don’t be a wuss”, the doctor said, poking around with the needle that never filled with blood. Seungmin looked up when out of the corner of his eyes he saw Chan get up, an aura of anger surrounding him. But Seungmin shook his head. He didn’t want his leader to make a scene, he could endure. He would be fine.

Then the doctor pulled the needle out, pressing a cotton ball harshly against the blood running out. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess I need to try again”, he said, sounding almost gleeful.

He did try again. Again and again.

Seungmin just stared up at the ceiling, hoping the doctor would just find a vein. Normally he preferred to watch the doctors do their thing but he felt numb now. Bracing for the pain didn’t help. It hurt nevertheless.

The young vocalist nearly wished he had let Chan intervene. It was all becoming too much. But he didn’t dare seek eye contact with his hyungs now. He had after all just taken Chan’s help for granted, pushed him aside when he just wanted to help. Now he had to endure his pride.

It was after a few tries, Seungmin supposed it was over five tries in different places at that point, that he made the mistake of looking. The needle was big - bigger than he had anticipated. Seungmin felt sick seeing it. Still, even after so many failed attempts the doctor didn’t care about trying to find a good spot, he just stabbed. It was the right word, really. The force he used was way too much for the delicate process, especially since he now aimed at Seungmin’s wrist.

It was not a conscious decision, anything else but conscious, when Suengmin flinched away harshly. Maybe it was the fever or the exhaustion or the pain but his reaction was slowed. So when he moved his arm away in fear, the needle was already embedded in his arm - tearing the skin open and blood gushing out instantly.

It was at that moment that Seungmin realized he was out of his depth. Blame it on the sickness but he suddenly felt too overwhelmed, sensitive. Tears shot into his eyes as he curled over the injury, weakly gagging.

“Enough”, Chan yelled but Seungmin was too lost in pain and fear to really understand what was happening.

🧭🐺

It was hard for Chan seeing one of his kids injured or sick or sad. Nearly having to let go of Minho and Felix before their debut. Losing Woojin. Hyunjin begging Stay to stay with him during the false bullying accusation. Seeing Changbin insecure over his looks and sad as the least biased member. Minho hiding away and pretending to be fine when people said he seemed like a cold and unlikable person. Han’s anxiety diagnosis and his panic attacks. Felix’s back injury. Jeongin beating himself up over mistakes. Seungmin never smiling anymore after haters commented on his braces. It all hurt Chan so much he sometimes wondered how he hadn’t broken down crying yet.

Now, Seungmin was sick and injured and so clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. To some extent it was even worse seeing normally steadfast and dandy Seungmin be reduced to tears and covered in sick than seeing one of his more fragile members that way.

Chan really wasn’t a fan of the young doctor. He seemed rude, arrogant and inexperienced. But he hoped the first impression was wrong.

Sadly, it wasn’t.

Chan and Minho watched from the sidelines as the doctor first prepared Seungmin’s arm for the IV insertion. The manager had left for a phone call. The pained yelp Seungmin let out when the doctor first pushed the needle in was heartbreaking. Chan never wanted any of the members to make a sound like that ever again.

Chan very nearly didn’t believe his ears when the doctor told Seungmin to not be a wuss. What kind of doctor treated a patient like that, especially a young man who was in serious pain and ill at the same time? Chan started to feel anger bubbling up in him. How dare the man treat Seungmin like this? Like an unruly child rather than a sick and injured adult?

He was about to speak up when he caught Seungmin’s eyes. The younger man shook his head slightly, obviously telling Chan to back off. Chan wouldn’t let Seungmin get hurt like this, no matter what the younger man wanted. He clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

But a hand on his arm washed away the red over his gaze. Don’t, Channie. Seungmin wouldn’t want a fuss. Minho looked like he had bitten into a lemon holding back from doing interfering but they both knew Seungmin wouldn't want that. The main dancer and main vocalist were both so alike that Chan trusted Minho to know what Seungmin would prefer.

So Chan clenched his jaw but held back on commenting on the doctor’s attitude. They did want to get Seungmin safe and home without a fuss. An argument over his head was not in the cards if it could be avoided.

They watched frozen as the man pushed needle after needle into Seungmin, never finding a vein. It seemed almost sadistic. It was clear as day that the doctor couldn’t care less about his patient’s comfort. But they stayed quiet. After everything was over both of them would blame themselves for it.

Then it all went wrong. The doctor tried to find a vein in Seungmin’s wrist, a place that Chan knew was not the safest. But then Seungmin, who had appeared spaced out all during the previous attempts, jerked away. Immediately a spray of blood gushed out and along with it came the tears. Immediately Chan jumped to his feet, Minho following suit. The leader knew his voice took on the authoritative, angry tone that he only used when people - never his members - really fucked up. It was more than deserved in this case.

“Enough!”

While all his senses screamed at Chan to rush to his crying Stray Kid, he knew it was his leader’s duty to do damage control. Besides, Minho had already rushed to Seungmin, gathering the young vocalist in his arms and chan trusted him to take care of him.

“What?”, the doctor asked, whirling around to come face to face with Chan.

The leader was much smaller than the other man but right now he didn’t care as he said flatly, threateningly: “Leave now. You have hurt Seungmin enough.”

It was less than what he wanted to say but he also couldn’t just go around yelling at people even if it was his heart’s desire in this case. The real downside to being an idol.

“Leave”, Chan repeated as the man made no move. He felt oddly calm now, eyes locked with the doctor. He hoped the anger and disgust at the medic’s unprofessionalism came across through his facial expression.

As the doctor opened his mouth to retort, he was interrupted by the manager coming back inside. “What is going on in here?”

Chan was sure they were a sight. He himself yelling at a doctor much taller than him with Minho comforting a sobbing Seungmin in the background. He could have kissed the manager for his timing and felt his shoulder slump in relief. He didn't like yelling, even if deserved, and only ever did if there was no other choice. Starting now, the manager could deal with the doctor.

“Please have him removed from the room”, Chan said, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “this man has been very rude to Seungmin, not treating him like needed in this situation, and he obviously not caring to actually do his job in finding a vein. He injured Seungmin without really trying to actually put the IV.”

“That is a lie”, the doctor barked, “you cannot prove anything.”

The manager’s eyes hardened and he gestured at the doctor to leave. “Go before I call security. The fact that you used the word ‘proof’ is proof enough for me.”

The doctor looked like he wanted to defend himself but as Chan shot him another look he decided against it, rushing from the room.

🧭🐶

The worst in Seungmin’s opinion was that they were causing a scene. He was causing a scene.

He heard how Chan was talking to the doctor, his protective leader instincts taking over. Seungmin didn’t like it one bit. While he knew it was for his own good and that Chan’s anger was not directed at him, he was still scared. Raised voices weren’t really his thing. Especially when he already felt so unwell and overwhelmed.

“Hey, Seungminnie”, Minho whispered and removed the tourniquet from his arm. Then he ran his hand through Seungmin’s bangs to keep them away from his forehead, leaving his cool palm there. It felt heavenly - Seungmin’s whole body seemed to be freezing except for his burning forehead. “It’s gonna be alright, just you see. You know Channie-hyung would move mountains and make the world spin the other direction if you needed him to.”

Seungmin blushed, ducking his head. It was true, all of what Minho had said. Bang Chan - best leader was an award deserved. It was comforting to be loved so deeply and at times even scary how far Chan would go to make them happy. Seungmin wished they could do the same for their leader one day.

Still he couldn't stop the tears soaking Minho’s shirt. He was trembling all over, only his wrist - that Minho had hastily pushed more of the cotton against to stop the flow of blood and which was now immobilized by the grip his hyung had on it - was held still.

Vaguely he was aware of the doctor leaving and then Chan was kneeling by his side, taking Seungmin’s hands laying limply in his lap into his.

“Hyung is sorry”, Chan whispered, now crying himself, “I should have stopped him before it got this far.”

He gently moved Minho’s hand away to look at the wound but again, immediately blood rushed out. Chan sobbed, resting his head on Seungmin’s lap. “I’m so sorry, Min-ah.”

To say Seungmin was shocked was an understatement. He had not expected Chan to react like this, to basically bow at his feet.

“Hyungie, hyungie, it’s my fault”, Seungmin whispered through tears, “I thought I could do it. Don’t blame yourself.”

It was then that Minho took action. “Neither one of you is at fault”, he said sternly, in his no-nonsense voice that he usually used on the younger members when they were being a bit too hyper, “neither of you knew that the doctor would do this … whatever it was. A power trip maybe, but neither of you were part of that. We need to talk about this for sure but we will do so later when all of us are not so exhausted and sick.”

Seungmin nodded against Minho’s shoulder, running his hand through Chan’s curls. “It’s okay, hyung.”

When Chan lifted his head his eyes looked haunted but he nodded resolutely.

🧭🐶

“Boys, a new doctor is here”, the manager said and all three of them turned around to see an older woman step into the room, her smile hidden beneath her mask but her eyes kind.

Before any of them could say anything, she stepped forward and bowed deeply. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened, Seungmin-ssi, Bang Chan-ssi. I was not aware that this doctor would be capable of mistreating patients. I heard from his direct colleagues that he apparently isn’t a fan of idol culture and has been rude to idols before, though never to this extent. I hope you can accept the hospital’s apologies.”

“Apologies accepted”, Seungmin mumbled, too tired to care much about pleasantries at the moment.

Chan nodded reluctantly but then added: “Will there any legal action be taken? His treatment of a patient was unacceptable.”

“He won’t be allowed to treat idols anymore but it will be very hard to prove that he maliciously tried to manipulate the attempts to take blood. I believe you but I can’t promise that the upper management or a court would”, she replied, looking guilty.

“I will talk to our legal department”, the manager promised.

“Can you look over Seungminnie now?”, Minho then asked, “He's really tired and I would like to take him home soon.”

Any other day Seungmin would have hated how his hyung spoke over his head but today it was a welcome relief. He just wanted to be done.

“Of course”, she said, “if Seungmin agrees?”

He appreciated her effort to include him and his opinions, so he tried to smile when he nodded. He was sure that it was just a grimace though.

“Let me wrap your wrist real quick. After that I would like to examine your foot to determine what might be wrong before we do any scans. Your hyungs said you also got the stomach flu and you are running a fever. I know it sounds scary and I really hate to do it but I need to put in an IV line first so we can get you medicated. Is that alright with you?”

Swallowing down the fear, Seungmin nodded and let himself rest against Minho’s chest. Getting his injured wrist wrapped wasn’t that bad and the bleeding stopped soon. Then the bad part came.

“Okay, let me see. I promise I will be gentle. If you need me to stop, just tell me and I will”, the doctor said and Seungmin held out his shaking arm. “Oh, you’re really dehydrated, honey.”

Seungmin watched as she felt his arm up and down, wincing as she accidentally pressed on a few of the spots the other doctor had tried.

“Can I see the other arm?”

But with the other arm she seemed even less happy. The doctor returned to the original arm, wincing when she saw a bruise of the failed attempt earlier form, and made Seungmin open and close his fist. The tourniquet she placed on his upper arm burned but not as much as it did earlier. The disinfectant spray was icy cold.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing a line in your elbow since it’s so bruised. I want to try the back of your hand, okay?”

Seungmin nodded numbly, pressing his back closer to Minho. Still, he couldn’t look away. Seeing was better than not seeing.

The doctor gently slapped his hand, trying to cause more blood flow, feeling around again. “I’m not really happy here but I want try anyway. You’re making finding a vein really hard in your state.”

If Seungmin wasn’t raised as a nice person he would have rudely told her it wasn’t his fault that he was dehydrated and that the IV couldn’t be placed in the most convenient, easiest place. But even in his tired state he knew she only meant to make conversation. So he nodded his consent, feeling Chan take his other hand in support.

“Small pinch”, the doctor said and Seungmin had a millisecond to brace himself before … before he violently jerked his hand away. It was a subconscious move and he was lucky she hadn’t touched his skin yet. The doctor jumped in surprise and Seungmin was quick to apologize: “I’m sorry … I …”

He stumbled horribly over his words. He didn’t even really know what to say. It was scary, getting a needle under his skin. It hurt. He didn’t want to feel the pain again.

“It’s quite alright”, the doctor replied. “Just tell me when you’re ready to try again.”

“Breathe, Min-ah”, Chan said, gently pressing his hand, “we’re right here with you.”

After a few deep breaths, guided by his hyungs, Seungmin felt ready again. Well, not ready to start but ready to be done with the ordeal.

But it wasn’t to be so. Even as Seungmin didn’t flinch away and the doctor moving the needle around under his skin, she couldn’t put in the line. They couldn’t quite blame her - she was obviously trying and very apologetic. Plus, they all knew drawing blood from Seungmin was hard on a normal day.

“I really don’t like doing this but I think our last chance is putting the line in your wrist”, the doctor finally said, “otherwise we will have to try your foot and that is a really uncomfortable place for an IV, especially since then both your feet would be compromised.”

Seungmin just sighed and turned his body so his head rested against Minho’s shoulder. While he normally wanted to see, right now he was overwhelmed with all the sensory input. He hated the thought of having a needle in his wrist but the foot was even less desirable.

“Just do it”, he whispered.

To their collective surprise, the doctor slid in the needle easily and then she exclaimed: “I got it. It’s in, Seungmin-ssi. You did so well.”

Reluctantly Seungmin peeked out from his hiding place and immediately regretted it. The sight of the needle embedded in his wrist, so close to arteries and bones was nauseating. As he was already sick and nauseous, it was too much.

“I feel sick”, he whispered. The doctor reached over to a shelf but it wasn’t fast enough.

Seungmin couldn’t even muster the energy to try to stop the wave of nausea crashing over him. He just opened his mouth and let the gags tear through his throat. Bile and spit dangled from his lips, gently wiped away by Chan holding a tissue. Maybe he finally was empty. Nothing would come up.

“You’re scheduled for an MRI soon”, the doctor explained, still holding the emesis basin she had taken out of the shelf, “I’m going to give you an antiemetic, fluids and painkillers through the line. You should feel better soon. Please try to drink a bit if you can.”

With those words she left the room.

🧭🐶

The wait for the MRI was thankfully short and the medicine was starting to work quickly. The worst thing was Chan forcing Seungmin to take a few sips of water.

Soon Seungmin was lifted into a wheelchair and moved into the MRI room. His jewelry was taken off and soon enough Seungmin was flying flat on the movable platform. The technician pressed a bell into his hand and told him to press it in case of emergency. Then he was inside the machine, eyes pressed shut. He was drifting, not really taking anything in.

The MRI was loud, metal clanking everywhere. It didn’t matter - Seungmin was so tired he basically fell asleep the moment his eyes were closed.

He was awoken by a voice talking to him. Was he done? He hoped so. But then the words registered in his mind. “I will push the contrast agent in now. You might feel a bit warm but let me know if anything becomes unbearable.”

Seungmin nodded and then he felt what the woman had said. It was like he suddenly was burning from the inside, everything too hot. But he did not expect the disgusting taste in his mouth. He didn’t know how or what had happened, if that was supposed to happen, but the nausea that the antiemetic had valiantly fought against, rose again at the taste.

“Take me out, I need out”, Seungmin pleaded. “I can’t - it’s too hot. I …”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. His chest spasmed and vomit spilled from his lips. Seungmin doubted it was much more than the water he had drunk but it was terrifying laying on his back. Without warning he was turned to the side and the vomit spilled down his cheek. It was disgusting but much better than choking on it.

“Okay, okay, you’re okay”, the technician said. But as Seungmin opened his eyes he saw his leader kneeling by his side.

“Channie-hyung”, he whispered.

Chan smiled and wiped Seungmin’s face. “I got you, baby.”

🧭🐺

Chan looked down at the sleeping vocalist on his lap. Seungmin had fallen asleep after throwing up during the MRI. Apparently some patients could taste the contrast agent and it had triggered Seungmin’s sensitive stomach. Chwas was just glad that Seungmin was now asleep, the vocalist had been stretched far beyond his limits of the day.

The doctor had determined that it was indeed a broken ankle and now Seungmin’s foot was in a cast, resting on Minho’s lap. They finally were on their way home with prescriptions for nausea medication, fever reducers and painkillers, as well as a pair of crutches.

But for now Seungmin was asleep and that was what he needed most.

“Don’t worry, Chan”, Minho whispered to not disturb their dongsaeng, “he will be fine, just you wait. Soon enough he will chase us through the dorm on crutches and be an absolutely terrible delight.”

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - Stray Kids

#Kpop #Kpop blog #Kpop sick #Kpop sickfic #Sickfic #Emeto #🧚🏻‍♀️#Title from Case 143 (Stray Kids)#🧭#🐺#🐰#🐶#caretaker bang chan #caretaker minho/lee know #sickie seungmin #injury #whump #stray kids

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thesupernaturalhouse · 9 months ago

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Right so- Emily's personality ir charlies design for the hazbins Fallen au?? Which should I talk about first??

Let's go with Emily-

Alright! So, Emily is still her cheery self but also due to the nature of the au defiantly isnt all niave and trusting and stuff

In this au, she's learning about seras lies from others, which I think would give her trust issues. I also made her more, angry

I imagine in the au she holds grudges a lot more, mainly against alastor, and has more of a silent anger type personality- here's a small snippet of the pilot for the au

Emily: alright so now we watch *Katie starts throwing insults* ...oookay- vaggie, spear, down *gently holding said spears tip down

Vaggie: wha- but, come onn

Emily: no 'come onn' I don't think you scaring people with you angelic spear is a good ide- *Katie says soenthifn homophobic* .....neveemind *releases spear* do whatever you want ant. I want that bitch to fear for her life

Or it'd go something like that, I'll work out any kinks when I start writing the story, first I wanna awake an episode layout whoch is harder then it loks- I have the ideas but I need it in a list so- jsut gotta sort through all that

Like she isn't like Vaggie, spear raised, but not like Charlie, easy to forgive.

I do imagine she bites her tounge however if you ask for her hienst's opinion, she will NOT hold back. I think once she and Husk become more of a father-daughter duo, he starts rubbing off on her, and she starts blurting some ruder things out

He is so proud of his little(200k year+) girl

It's probably the most evident when I have her tell of Alastor- which will also be one instance of her being super protective over her found family.....listen I know yall love Alastor i do to, but I think he fandom over hypes him, and so does he himself, and I want Emily to kinda call him out, and threaten him in this au

But that'll be another post :)

Remember how I said charlie and slaviathen are like Ron and Tammy 2 but without all the sex? Yeah, well, then Emily is Diane! Vaggie is to but vaggie mostly focuses on getting them out and stuff. Emily and slaviathen just have passive aggressive argument and comments thrown at each other

"Always a pleasure to meet you charlies friends" "*strained smile* always a pleasure seaweed hair stranger" "oooo-Kay let's go- and let charlie Dela with this"

Why vaggie is passive with sleviathan and Emily is the protective one? Honestly idk but I think it's funny :) maybe it's cause Vaggie knows Charlie doesn't tale shit from slaviathen one bit so lets her gaurd down more because she knows charlie has it, so she's more passive or smth

Emily meanwhiem can't STAND being talked down to so absurd bites back no matter what. Which is also why her breaking point would be Katie calling them a slur.

She hates being talk down to, which stems form her years in heaven being treated as a child by almost everybody, good intentions or not it was still always so condescending to her. Especially when it was from Sera or the other heaven born and elder/arch angles

So she definitely internalized that, remember how I said she was often referred to as 'lucifers replacement' by many elder angles?? Yeah, that's where it MOSTLY stems from

She'd also have resentment and hatred for lucifer because of it all, like "I never want to meet whoever the fuck lucifer is" kinds mentality, it's due to this that she refused to search him uo and relaize he was her girlfriends, one of them, DAD

So the dad beat dad episode is...fun!! Emily gets piss drunk with HER dad, husk after realizing the short man in the middle of the living room is lucifer

It's after that whole song at the beginning happens does she realize he's lucifer, cause charlies only referred to him as dad so-

......I should start drafting a psot for her and Peter's relationship- mlm and wlw solidarityyyy

She also be a lot more sexual active I think because liek heaven is restricted so being in hell with norestricrions she definitely is THRIVING on that freedom

I have a scene planned out for when Angle takes them to that bdsm club that involved her buying black silk stuff because why not-

Anyways, the finale change in Emily, I think, for her personality that is would be she absolutely take sfter a more Sloth like sin

"Screw both of you I'm sleeping in!" She absolutely HATES waking up early in the morning, especially if it's after a night of certain events. Vaggie will throw clothes at her and force her to get up. Charlie will already be downstairs full of energy-

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel charlie #chaggiem #chaggie #vaggily #charily #chaggily #charles angles #etc #hazbins fallen au #slightly suggetsive

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ynsvnte · 1 year ago

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Take a stroll — Park Sunghoon

Genre: fluff, bsf to lovers, drabble/oneshot? , wc: 651, warnings: pet names, kissing, hugging (like lots) no y/n, pairing: bsf!sunghoon x gn!reader

Event Masterlist

Me and Sunghoon both walk in the cold night, street lights on, giving away the relaxing air..

“Soo was that birthday dinner of yours good..?” I wanted him to enjoy it.

“It was perfect..actually..” Sunghoon said, looking away. From his reaction I didn’t believe him.. “You sure..?” Sunghoon quickly faced me again..and said “Positive..why..?” I sigh.. “by your reaction..I think you hate it.”

“W-what..?” Sunghoon said, confused.. “No no that’s not what I meant, it's just that I’m a terrible person when it comes to expressing how they feel about certain things..” I nodded my head.. “Yeah..I also brought a gift for you..” I say handing it to him..Sunghoon grabbed the bag out of my hand..and looked at me again.. “Can I open it??” He asked.. “Of course you can, it's yours after all..” Sunghoon begins to open the bag..digging through it to find a cologne..he slightly smiles.. “what..?” He says surprised..I giggle “you ran out of your favorite so I thought it would nice to get you another one..” “And how do you know, I don’t remember telling you..” Sunghoon said while smirking.. “Did you perhaps snoop around my room..?”

My eyes widened.. “W-what!? That’s crazy why would I.” I tried defending myself. I sigh.. “Fine, maybe I did…but I also found something else” Sunghoon looks at me, for me to continue speaking. “I also found this one letter…” I said while pulling it out.. Sunghoon only looked at me clearly panicking. “Did you read..it.?” He asked me.. “Well…about that..I did but not entirely..” I replied..making him sigh in relief

“It’s a confession letter to who..?” I asked, letting my mouth run by itself. “He-he no..one” “I don’t believe you…” “Then believe me because it’s for no one..” I looked at Sunghoon giving him a look of confusion… “Don’t lie to me, who do you like..?” I was quite hurt.. “Read it then you’ll find out ..” Sunghoon said, making me groan.. “But this isn't even for me ..” “Said who??” “Said me”

“Well I didn’t say it’s for you or it’s not for you just read it” Sunghoon said. I looked at him before opening the note..I began to read…

“You know this is me confessing to you. I always liked you..not always but for most part. I’m too shy to say this in person. Just your passion for the things you enjoy, and along with how it makes you happy. I think it’s adorable. It will always be. So I’m asking you this if you like me…?” I reread it without seeing a name until I see a name peeking down at the bottom of the page. I slowly looked down, not ready to see who Sunghoon likes…

“ME!?!” I shout in surprise.. I face Sunghoon seeing him smiling at me.. “Y-you like me..?!?” I asked..shocked.. “Yes..and it’s okay you don’t like me back we can go ba-“ Sunghoon says but I cut him off with a hug.. “I like you too..” I say while looking up at him smiling.. “Say it again..” Sunghoon demanded.. “Wha-“ “say it again” he said once more.. “I like you too..” Sunghoon picked me up and twirled me around in the air.. I was quickly put down.. being pulled into a tight hug.. “Thank you” Sunghoon whispered in my ear.. “why say thank you..?” I asked. “Just because..” Sunghoon let go of the hug before his hands reached up to my face.. “May..I.?” He looked at me looking for discomfort..I only nodded my head. I then felt his lips against mine..the kiss was very tender..enjoyed each other’s warmth..cold air not being felt anymore..We both pulled away. I look at him smiling.. “I love you..”

Sunghoon pulled me into our third hug.. “I love you too..sweetheart.”

“Pet names already??..”

“Yes..”

Author’s Note: Went a little overboard on this one..😁 anyways happy birthday to my wife ❤️❤️ love you lots and umm yes be ready tomorrow for MR RIKI JACKSON HIMSELF. Also layout change is CRAZZYY

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen crack #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fake texts #enhypen angst #enhypen smau #enhypen sunghoon #enha sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #mari: works *

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edupunkn00b · 10 months ago

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Delirium

Photo by Fleur via Unsplash

Rated G - WC: 2660 - CW: fever, there might be a swear :)

Logan comes home sick from work and Janus cares for him. No-one expected feelings to come out. (Remy did. Remy expected feelings. "Told ya so, babes.")

Janus rinsed his coffee cup and wiped down the counter for the third time, gaze focused more out the kitchen window than on his task. Just over two hours ago, Logan had texted from the office, sounding… off and said he was coming home early. Nearly an hour and a half later, the barista at their favorite café called and said he was bringing his roommate home.

“Thank you, Remy,” Janus murmured, holding the front door open wide as the taller man half-walked, half-carried his roommate inside. “Lo’s really in no state to drive.”

“Yeah, he said he needed a little coffee to sharpen up before he made the trip over the bridge,” Remy laughed, shaking his head. “I make a good brew but caffeine won’t cure a fever.”

“‘M fine, Jay,” said roommate mumbled, left hand flopping up and landing ineffectually against his chest. Logan nodded slowly, brow solemn as though he’d just finished his closing argument.

“Yes, I see…” Janus’ smile dissolved when Logan’s cheek burned under his hand. Ordinarily unflappable, Logan would only show vulnerability like this under the influence of—as their favorite book would call it—extraordinary amounts of alcohol or, as now, a worryingly high fever.

“I’m double-parked, babes.” Remy said, smirking over his sunglasses. “Where d’ya want him?”

“I…” Janus’ gaze trailed up the stairs. Logan’s bedroom was two flights up in their narrow townhouse.

Typically, the layout was welcome. Early to bed, early to rise, he would readily excuse himself when Janus was entertaining… company. It was usually just Remus nowadays, but still. Two flights up from Janus’ room, it was as though they each lived alone once nighttime came around. It was an ideal arrangement.

Except on rare nights like this.

Logan wobbled, stumbling to one side even with Remy’s arm hooked through his and Janus didn’t need to think, he just reacted, reaching for him before he could fall. Logan’s hand wrapped around his, warm. Too warm, Janus reminded himself. “I suppose my room would be best,” Janus finally said and together, they maneuvered him down the hall and onto Janus’ bed.

“Hmm,” Remy hummed, looking around the room. The centerpiece of Janus’ room was a high-set king size bed, layered with pillows and two comforters. Hidden between the layers was his weighted blanket. He’d never really gotten around to furnishing the room much more than that, preferring to keep his library in their shared shelves, and he worked from the dining room or his armchair in the living room. Wherever Logan had settled in with his own reading or case files.

He kept his room dark… ish. The walls were lined with warm faux-incandescent Edison bulbs Remus had fashioned for him out of LEDs and golden filters after he described the giant meta-analysis Logan had sent him on the impacts of artificial light and myopia. The dim light had only made Logan’s little approving smile that much brighter.

“Cozy,” Remy laughed once they were done, then smoothed down his jacket sleeve where it had bunched up with his efforts to hold Logan up. He lowered his sunglasses so Janus couldn’t miss his lascivious wink. “Very cozy.”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship, Rem,”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, babes,” Remy chuckled as he backed out of the room.

“No… bed’s too big,” Logan groaned, voice muffled by the heavy down comforter. “Too far away t’hold you, Jay.”

Both men froze, heads whipping over comically to stare in Logan’s direction. “Wha—what did you say?” Janus swallowed, eyes wide. He had to have misheard.

“Oh, ho ho ho, Emile owes me ten bucks!” He hadn’t misheard anything.

Remy clapped Janus’ shoulder and started down the hallway. “Congratulations, man. Maybe now you’ll stop crying in your coffee all the time.”

“No, wait!” Janus’ arm snaked out and grabbed Remy’s sleeve. “Remy, no! You can’t say anything!!“ His eyes bore into Remy’s. “He’s delirious and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t mean it.”

“Uh-huh,” Remy said, lowering his sunglasses and looking back at Logan who’d curled around Janus’ pillow, rubbing his cheek against the cover. Eyes closed, he was smiling and pressing little kisses into the satin. “Maybe he really, really means it and it’s only because he doesn’t know what he’s saying that he—”

“Remy…” Janus warned, fingers tight on his sleeve as he stared up at the much taller man. “Seriously. Don’t.”

“Alright, alright. Fine,” he said, shrugging. “It’s your funeral.”

“Thank you,” Janus said, belatedly releasing his grip. He pulled his hand back, thumb rubbing over his knuckles and frowning. That escalated quickly, didn’t it? “Thank you,” he said again and nodded, tamping down the embers of protective fire that had sparked in his chest. “I apologize,” he murmured, inclining his head.

But Remy just laughed. “Buy me a coffee and we’ll call it even.” Logan groaned again then, eyes squeezed shut and Janus sat next to him, adjusting the covers. “I’ll let myself out,” Remy said and closed the door behind him.

Janus waved without looking away from Logan and clicked on his bedside lamp.

“Jay,” he said, squinting, and buried his face in the pillow. “Jay, I don’t feel well.”

The admission was almost funny.

“I know, Lo,” Janus murmured, pushing back his hair from his face. His skin was still terribly hot and pale enough that, if he’d wanted, Janus could’ve traced the latticework of thin veins over his eyelids and along his temple. If he’d wanted.

“Rest here and I’ll get you some water and aspirin, alright?” Janus started to rise, suppressing a frown at the way even Logan’s hair seemed overly warm.

Before he’d moved away completely, Logan’s hand shot up and covered his. “You won’t go far?” he whispered, fever bright eyes fixed on him.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen…” Janus promised, voice trailing off when Logan his hand closer. After a moment, Logan stilled and Janus began to wiggle free. Logan’s eyes snapped open at the movement and laced their fingers together. “I’ll need this to get you that aspirin,” Janus murmured, the burn of Logan’s touch both drawing him closer and pushing him to get something to lower his fever.

Eyes slipping shut again, Logan nodded and relaxed his grip. Giving his hand one last pat, Janus whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

Leaving the door open so he would hear Logan’s calls, Janus dashed down the hall and back to the kitchen. He clicked the kettle on, then grabbed a basket from the top of the fridge and filled it with Gatorades from the fridge, a box of tea, apple sauce, Logan’s travel mug, and a pack of his favorite crackers.

The kettle clicked, water bubbling, so Janus unplugged it and grabbed the whole thing to set up in his room, basket hooked on his arm. Hot water would be one fewer thing he’d need to leave Logan’s side to fetch. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of aspirin and the thermometer from the medicine cabinet as he passed and hurried back into his room.

Logan sat on the floor, one arm out of his shirt, the other twisted behind him. His trousers lay crumpled in a heap next to him and his collar was up over his head, tie loosened by not removed. “Oh, Lo,” Janus muttered and set the kettle and the basket on his nightstand. “May I help you?”

“Please.” Logan’s voice was quiet and Janus wondered if perhaps he’d even drifted off. Kneeling next to him, Janus finished removing his tie and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, a little sigh of relief sneaking past when he saw Logan’s undershirt. Relief. Not disappointment.

Perhaps… a tiny bit. It would be easier to regulate his fever without it.

“There you go,” Janus murmured once Logan was free of his shirt. “I put your glasses on the nightstand, too, Lo.”

Logan leaned heavily against the side of the bed, eyes cracked open. He nodded then closed them again. “‘Ank you,” he whispered, hands flailing until they landed on Janus’. “Y’take care of me.”

“Anytime you need me, Lo,” Janus murmured. “I’m going to help you up onto the bed now, okay?” Logan’s head sort of wobbled in agreement, so Janus released one hand and curled his arm around his best friend’s back before pushing up to his feet.

Logan mumbled something unintelligible and leaned into his side, fever bleeding right through Janus’ shirt.

“I’ve got you, Lo,” he encouraged. “There we go,” he sighed once Logan was again seated on the bed. Holding him up with one arm, Janus stretched, snagging the aspirin and a Gatorade from the nightstand. “Have this, then rest.”

Humming, Logan curled into his side and let Janus feed him two tablets, sipping slowly. When he’d managed to h get about a quarter of the bottle, Janus recalled it and returned it to the nightstand. “It’ll be here for you when you’re ready for more.”

“‘nk you,” Logan mumbled again, curling on his side and twisting his fingers in Janus’ sheets. “‘nk you, Jay,” he said again, more breath than words. “Love you.”

Janus froze mid-rise, back curled over the bed as he reached to fluff the pillows under Logan’s head. He didn’t mean it. Remy’s little leer danced through Janus’ mind and he almost didn’t notice when Logan hugged his hand to his own chest, pressing kisses against his arm. “Love you, Jay,” he repeated, painfully clearly.

Patting Logan’s hand and ignoring the thrumming in his chest, Janus sucked in a slow breath. He’d never remember anyway. “I love you, too, Logan,” he whispered. “Rest well.” After a moment, Logan’s grip loosened and his brow went slack as sleep took him. “Rest well, love.”

Logan dreamed. He was at the beach, warm sand beneath him, warm sun overhead. Far from the shore, but close enough to hear the gentle susurations of the waves and catch a bit of the breeze coming up over the water.

“Lo? You’re dehydrated, drink…” Janus appeared, watermelon daiquiri in hand. Logan drank deeply, then kissed his fingertips. Janus’ skin was soft against his lips, nails, as expected, perfectly manicured. There was the tiniest hint of calluses at the edges of his forefinger and thumb and he smelled like… bergamot and sage.

“Thank you, darling,” Logan murmured as he lay back against the sand. “That’s perfect. You’re just what I needed.” He sat up, gripping Janus’ hand between his own. “Do you know that? Have I told you? You’re just what I needed. Always.”

“Shh, Lo, relax… Rest, love…” Janus’ voice blended with the sounds from the shore, the soft rush of water and breeze, and Logan nodded, eyes slipping shut.

“With you,” he smiled and drifted to the quiet crash of the waves.

The waves grew louder until Logan woke to… stickiness. His mouth was simultaneously dry and pasty, tongue adhering to the roof of his mouth, his teeth, his lips. He cracked open his eyes but quickly squeezed them shut. He’d fallen asleep with his light on and even the small glare from his desk lamp was enough to sear his eyes.

His bedsheets stuck to his skin and he was… damp, like he’d slept with the heat on too high. Fumbling blindly, he reached for his eyeglasses and knocked over an empty plastic bottle before his hand closed on the cold glass face of an old-fashioned analog alarm clock.

Logan bolted upright and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. A plush yellow comforter slid off the bed and onto the floor and tiny glowing golden bulbs dotted the walls. This wasn’t his room. He swung his legs over the edge and picked up the mostly empty Gatorade bottle he’d knocked down. He stared at the bottle in his hand for a long moment before uncapping it. His eyes flew wide open at his first whiff of its remains. Watermelon.

Tightening the cap, he set the bottle back on the nightstand and finally found his glasses. Shoving them on his face he looked around the room. Janus was sound asleep near the end of the bed, feet propped up on the far side from where Logan had been laying. Hands shaking, he picked up Janus’ blanket and sniffed. Bergamot and sage. “Love you, Jay… Have I told you?”

Oh fuck.

Reality and dream merged, the muscle memory of those words fresh in his mouth. A thermometer sat next to Janus’ clock and he thumbed through the history. 104.1, 104.5, 103.9…

Taking pains to make no noise, Logan straightened the blanket on the bed as much as he could without disturbing where Janus’ feet were propped. He found his trousers folded neatly over a chair, his shirt and tie hooked on the back of Janus’ door. Logan managed to get his shirt back on but as he lifted his foot to put on his trousers, his toes caught on a beltloop and he tumbled forward, crashing to the floor.

“Lo!” Janus was at his side, one hand at his back the other already checking his knees. “You’re up,” he murmured, one cool hand coming up to his forehead even as the other worked to untangle him from his clothes. “Your fever broke,” he smiled, bright enough to burn.

Logan looked away. “I—I—I did not intend to wake you, Janus, I apologize. You’ve… you’ve been caring for me?”

“Of course, Lo. You were pretty out of it.” Did Janus sound… sad? No, just tired. He must’ve been up half the night with him.

“Thank you,” he said, then clamped his mouth shut before he could voice the questions burning in mind. He remained quiet while Janus helped him up and turned, remaking the bed while Logan finished dressing. “Thank you,” he said again.

“Anytime you need me, Lo. You know that.”

“I should… ah…” Logan’s mouth worked. How did he ask what he wanted to know? “H—how long was I out of commission?” he finally managed.

“Remy brought you home last night.” Janus gestured to the clock and the dark sky just on the other side of his window. “Last, last night, I suppose. You’ve been sleeping for about twenty hours?”

“Ah,” Logan nodded.

“You, um…” Janus moved to the side of his bed and patted a space a respectful half-foot from where he sat. “Will you sit?” He wouldn’t quite meet Logan’s eyes. His hands were carefully folded in his lap, thumbs turned in, tiny twitches in his tendons the only tell to his fidget.

Logan nodded again and sat where Janus indicated. “I… I believe I know what you wish to say, Janus.”

“You do?” Janus’ brow furrowed and even his thumbs stilled. “But how—”

“I have some… fleeting memories of the past day or so and I recall…”

“Lo, I’m sorry,” Janus interrupted and Logan’s shoulders sank before he remembered himself and sat up straight. It was better this way. Janus planned to be kind as he let him down easy. They could move forward. “I never would’ve said those things if I thought you’d remember. I…”

Logan’s confusion must have been obvious because Janus’ words fizzled out. “What things?” he asked. “I…” Janus’ voice from his dreams filled his mind.

“Rest, love…”

“Oh,” Logan laughed. “I… I believe I understand.” Swallowing hard, he reached for Janus’ hand. Cool and soft. Callused fingertips just where he expected them. He laced their fingers together and they fit just right.

“I don’t,” Janus whispered, eyes down at their intertwined hands.

Logan slid just a little closer and Janus matched his movement. Watching Janus’ eyes, he raised his hand and brushed a kiss against his fingertips just as he had in his “dream.” “Maybe we can start there?” He took a breath and chance and smiled at Janus. “Darling?”

A soft chuckle spilled from Janus’ lips and he squeezed his hand tighter. “I like the sound of that, love.”

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