#AND I got something to lean on when the waves of dizzy sleepy pass out come on

[mothmothwoth]

one of these days I will cave and buy myself a walking stick/ cane of some sort

[bellysoupset]

Jonah was fast asleep, dreaming even, when he heard a little noise, that sounded like a cry. He frowned in his sleep, until the mewl turned into a voice and he heard a sleepy, whiny "Jon. Jonah, wake up-" he forced his eyes open, rubbing at them, still dizzy with sleep.

"Ange-" Jonah looked around the room. It was the middle of the night, and their shared hotel room was dark still. Angie was sitting up in the bed opposite to him, a pink silk bonnet on top of her head, and a frown between her brows, "what..."

"Your phone is ringing nonstop," she yawned, settling back down against the pillows and closing her eyes, "turn it off."

Jon was suddenly much more awake.

He had been trying, and failing, not to be clingy. Twenty four hours without hearing from Leo was fine, right? Since they had this huge time difference between them...? Sure, Leo had been ignoring even his texts, but it was just 24 hours-

Jonah's mood tanked as he grabbed his phone and saw four missed calls, but not from Leo. Lucas.

He was Luke's emergency contact, had been most of his life, and Jonah felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He sat up in bed, squinting at the too bright screen. It was 4:34 AM, so a little past 10 PM for Luke. Not a social call.

Jon hit the return call button and got up, walking to the bathroom in order not to wake up Angie with his voice, shutting the door behind him.

It rang and rang, then Bella picked it up, "hi, Jon," she sounded very awake, "I'm gonna get Luke for you, just a minute."

Straight to the point, he loved that about Bell.

"He's okay?"

"Luke? Yeah, he's fine," Bella sounded distracted and Jonah pulled back the phone, clicking the camera icon and rubbing at his face. Bella picked it up and Jon immediately frowned.

She was inside Luke's car, he could tell by the ceiling and the beige details, her hair up in a messy mop of curls and she was wearing one of her husband's old team hoodies, their university letters brightly displayed against her chest. It was the middle of the night, like he predicted and there was a bright light coming from outside the window-

"Where are you? What's going on, Bella?"

"Outside the grocery store," Bella yawned, "we're heading to your place. Wendy called me, about... An hour ago? Something happened with Leo, I don't know- HE'S OKAY," she exclaimed, probably seeing the way Jonah paled and how he nearly dropped the phone, "he's okay. He's home, but something happened and I don't know what, just that you need to come home. That's why Luke was calling."

"Did- Did Wendy tell Lucas?" Jonah was more than a little confused. He was Wendy's best friend, why didn't she just...call him? About Leo? Why call Luke- That sounded convoluted and messy.

There was a noise, the rain getting louder, paper bags and then the door closing, then Luke appeared on the screen, rain running down his hair, "hi-hi Jon-" his teeth chattered and Bella passed him the phone, moving away from the screen, probably to turn on the heater, "We-Wendy ca-ca-"

"Why did she call you and not me? Luke, what's going on, I'm freaking out-"

"She-she said Leo made her promise not to call you," Luke planted the phone in the car's dashboard, rubbing his hands vigorously to warm them up, "but that he needs you ho-home. Something to do with his mom...?"

Jonah felt sick. His head was spinning, the words he needs you home turning and turning in his head.

"His mom...? I thought- What? His mom? Are you sure you heard that right?" He leaned heavily against the door and heard as Luke repeated his words.

"I'm sure," Lucas' voice was calmer now that he wasn't trembling, "she needed to leave for her hospital shift and asked us to go over to your place. Said Leo shouldn't be alone."

Fuck.

If nothing had scared him yet, this certainly would. This meant Wendy was putting Leo under watch... That she thought he was a danger to himself?

"Jonah, hey," Bella's voice cut through the ringing noise in his ears, "nothing is going to happen with him. We're going over, we're not gonna let him out of our sight and you'll be here soon. I promise you, we got this."

"Yeah," Lucas agreed, "You're still in Amsterdam, right?"

"Yes-" How did Luke even know- Angie. He probably was keeping contact with Angelina, she had mentioned they texted.

"There's a flight leaving from Schiphol in two hours, I got you two tickets," Lucas was in his full project manager role, "tell Angie to text me, I'll figure out her staying over situation."

"She can-" he was about to say she can stay with me, before he realized Luke was very purposefully making it clear she couldn't, "okay. I'll talk with her. I- Fuck," his voice trembled and Jonah let go off his phone on top of the sink, bracing against it as he took measured breaths.

There was a deafening silence, safe for his heart beating like crazy. Jonah's head was spinning and he forced the air slowly out of his mouth, swallowing forcefully when the motion nearly turned into a gag.

He coughed and heard Luke cursing, his voice muffled since the phone was on top of a towel. Jonah cleared his throat, swallowing down and splashing some cool water. Lucas and Bell wouldn't be calling that calmly if Leo was in real danger. Nope.

"You get there and you keep me updated. I'm serious, I want every fucking detail, I wanna know what socks he's wearing," Jonah bossed, picking up the phone once more. Bella offered him a tight smile, while Luke nodded, not even questioning it.

"Absolutely. Have a safe flight."

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

Leo knew Wendy had called Bella, which meat she had called Lucas, which meant Vince knew, which meant Jonah either already knew by now or was going to very soon.

He glanced at clock in the microwave. 11 PM. It was 5 AM in Amsterdam, hopefully none of his friends had decided to wake up Jon in a panic in the middle of the night. Hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go, but they should be here in ten minutes," Wendy's voice drifted down the hallway and Leo looked away from his Tostitos turning around in the microwave, "are you gonna be okay? I-Just say the word-"

"Wendy," Leo leveled her with a fond, but exasperated look, "go. You're already late."

She frowned, crossing her arms to her chest and Leo stared back at her, not intimidated in the least. He turned so his body was facing her, "I'm not gonna jump out of the balcony in the ten minutes it'll take Luke and Bell to get here. I promise, pinky promise."

"Good," Wendy squinted at him, "would be a dick move to jump, you'd probably land right on top of their car."

Leo let out a snort at the dark humor and Wendy's eyes softened a little bit. She was wearing borrowed clothes from his closet, not having let him out of her sight since last night and she looked ridiculous. His sweater was basically a dress on her, even if she was using her heels.

He wanted to say this was all incredibly unnecessary, that he didn't need a nanny, was a grown man and sure, it had been a shock, but he was fine- But Leo knew better than that. He had spent a grand total of forty minutes on his own while showering and those forty minutes had been all his brain needed to go down a very dark spiraling route.

Amelia's confused face as she asked "I'm sorry, have we met?"

He couldn't get that out of his mind, coming back like a splash of acid in his throat whenever he breathed in too deeply. Edward's Leo?

"Sweetheart," Wendy was suddenly much closer and Leo blinked quickly, shaking his head.

"I'm okay, go on, your supervisor will be upset if you're even more late," behind him the microwave stopped humming gently and started beeping. Wendy was frowning, looking terribly worried, but she nodded, walking at a snail pace to the door.

He wanted to thank her, but Leo instead just stared at the empty spot where she had been standing. Everything felt... Hard. Like he was moving through molasses, like he was that scared kid back home who used to sit in his bedroom floor and struggle to breathe against that sharp pain in the center of his chest.

JD meowed at him and Leo frowned as she got on her hindlegs and pawed at his knee. Another meow.

"What?"

She blinked those huge blue eyes, seeming annoyed and he crunched down to pet her, then didn't have any energy to get back up and decided to rest against the kitchen cabinets. His cat shoved her head against his chin, rubbing and meowing.

She wanted something, he just wasn't sure what. When he tried to pet her again, JD bit him. Not hard enough to break skin, just to let him know something was wrong and for him to stop.

Leo pouted, "what?" he repeated and only then he heard the knocking on the front door. Ah, she probably wanted him to make it stop.

"Leo?!" Luke's voice was strikingly clear through the door and Leo wondered how he hadn't heard until now. He unlocked the door and before he could say much more, Bella's arms were around his neck and she was pulling him down into a tight hug.

He stiffened for a second, before Bella yanked at him, not even accepting him pulling back and Leo melted into the hug. He buried his face in her curls and then let out a little muffled groan as he felt Lucas envelop them both into his arms.

"What happened?" Bella asked, when they finally pulled back, crouching down to pick up JD from the floor and plant a kiss between her ears, as Luke brought the frankly worryingly amount of groceries inside. Were they planning to stay the week or did they just assume Leo didn't know how to stock a fridge?

"Where do I start?"

"From the beginning," Bella shut the door, leaning against it.

Not much longer they were all in the living room, Leo as curled up in the couch as he could, with JD snuggled against his stomach, and a knot pressing against his throat as he finished up the short tale of what had been that encounter. He hoped Luke was enough of a gossip he'd pass it down in details to Vince, because Leo could not fathom saying it a fourth time, assuming he'd have to tell Jon as well.

"How are you?" Luke asked, squeezing Leo's ankle. He was sitting by his foot and moving closer inch by inch, "honestly."

"A mess?" Leo snorted, burying his feet under Luke's thigh, "I'm not sad or angry, I just feel... Defeated. Empty."

Raw.

It was an insanely familiar feeling and it had taken Leo a minute to place it, it was exactly what he felt at his father's funeral. A mix of relief and anger and sadness that churned up in a feeling so overwhelming it numbed everything else. Grief.

He had hated that man so much, wished his dad was dead many times, and when it happened, he felt guilty and scared for and of himself. Who wished for the death of a parent? Who felt relief when it happened? And there was the love too. Those little, tiny moments he had cherished next to Edward, that had gotten far and more sparse as the years passed. The anger, because how dare his father end it like that. The lack of thought of it all, about who'd find him - his seventeen year old son -, about the trauma he was about to inflict... And more guilt, because how dare Leo be so self absorbed to make Edward's death about himself.

It was overwhelming.

"Jonah's coming," Bella's voice was loud and clear, silver bells pulling Leo from his dark thoughts. He looked up, noticing how she had moved from the opposite couch, to sit in the coffee table, as close as she could without climbing on the couch him and Luke were currently occupying, "and we're not going anywhere. And-" she cut herself short, looking at Luke, asking him to put into words what she couldn't.

Luke was looking at him intently, as he said in a measured voice, "it wasn't your fault she left. You were a kid, there was nothing you could've done."

Leo's chest jostled with a sob, then another, then another and he folded in the middle as Luke addressed word by word a fear that was longer than their friendship, an insecurity so deep it was etched in his bones: that he wasn't good enough. That if they got close enough, stuck around for long enough, they'd see what Amelia and Edward did, whatever rotten thing it was that made one of them run, the other decide to end it all.

Lucas moved, getting down from the couch and scooting closer on the rug, until he could touch his forehead with his, pressing in "hey," he whispered, "we got you. We love you."

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 12: Magic exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."

Featuring our favorite t4t gay idiots and a location that was mentioned all of one (1) times

Aaron, Kai, and Phoenix belong to @/pigeonwhumps

Content: team fluff, comfort, fainting, romancey vibes, food ment.

Joseph opened the door to Cornico’s Pizza, taking in the familiar smell and relaxing atmosphere as he wound around the many full tables back to the corner booth where Kai, Aaron, and Phoenix were sitting, snacking on some garlic knots.

“Hey guys,” he said, sliding into the seat next to Aaron, smiling at the soda they’d gotten him. “Eric says sorry, last minute review meeting popped up.”

Kai groaned a little, nodding.“Those are the worst. Tell him I said good luck.”

“I will.” He turned to Phoenix, who was finishing a garlic knot. “How was your day?”

“It was good!” They reached for another, eyes flickering up to Kai to make sure it was okay. He nodded, mouth full of bread. “We did sparing. Kai won against Lian. A lot.” They rubbed at their wrists, then smiled. “It was fun.”

“I’m glad.” He glanced over at Aaron, noting the tired look in his eyes and the droop in his posture. “You doin’ alright?”

“Just a long day.” He rolled his neck out, bones cracking with the movement. “Nothing some more bread and cheese can’t fix.”

“Second that.” Kai flipped open his menu, quickly scanning through it. “What’re we thinking?”

“I could split a veggie with Phoenix and you two could do whatever?” They sighed, index finger digging into their thumb’s fingernail.

“That sounds good.” Joseph opened his menu, looking over the options. “Pepperoni, sausage and cheese?”

Kai nodded. “Absolutely.” He waved the server over, and they quickly placed their orders.

They fell back into an easy conversation while they waited for their food, comfortably bouncing back and forth between topics. Phoenix slowly started to talk more, interjecting with their own side stories and anecdotes. It was nice to see them coming out of their shell a little, and Joseph couldn’t help but smile.

Still, Aaron’s silence made him uneasy. Joseph could see the exhaustion written on him plainly. His shift had obviously been more taxing than normal. He placed a comforting hand on their shoulder, squeezing it a little bit. Aaron leaned into it, a quiet thank you for the gesture.

Suddenly, his brow creased, facial expression turning frantic. “You okay, Aaron?”

They mumbled something inaudible, hands pawing at his shoulders like they were trying to climb over him. “Aaron, what’s wrong?”

“I needa lay down,” he repeated, a little more clearly.

The words spurred Joseph into action, and he tried to move so Aaron could get out, but it was too late. Their eyes slid closed as they collapsed, body pitching forward and slamming into Joseph’s chest.

“Aaron!” Phoenix shouted before immediately sinking in on themselves, eyes wide with concern.

Joseph wrapped his arms around Aaron’s slack body, supporting his head while he got them out of the booth and onto the ground. “You with me?” His fingers dug into Aaron’s shoulders as he shook them awake.

His eyes flickered up to Kai, about to order him to call for help, when Aaron produced a sleepy groan. “That hurts…” They tried to push his arms away, but they lacked the coordination and the strength necessary to do so. “Wha’ happened?”

“You passed out.”

“Oh, sorry.” They were silent for a second. “Didn’t think the healing hangover was this bad.”

Joseph hummed, unbelieving. “Sure.”

They were still for a moment, eyes locked together, and one could only imagine the silent conversation that passed between. Slowly, Aaron tried to sit up, fighting through the dizziness. He didn’t even get halfway up before Joseph had to steady him. “Nope, you’re laying back down.”

Aaron huffed. “The server is coming with our food. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. There's plenty of space.” He reached for their hand. “We can try again after five minutes?”

“But I’m hungry,” they grumbled wearily.

Joseph was about to respond but Kai got there first. “Listen to the medic!” He said, and Joseph followed it up with a look.

“Alright, I will.” They threw their hands up in surrender. He squeezed Joseph’s hand. “Will you walk me home?”

He tried to ignore the heat rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah. Always.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch@rainbowsandwhumperflies@snaillamp @whumperofworlds

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima

part 2 with sugawara and kuroo here!

personally i loved writing these, so lmk if you want a part 2 with other characters 👀

TW: PASSING OUT :))

To sum up how you felt in one word, you were exhausted. You were physically overworked; pushed to your limit with tons of schoolwork, stress, extracurriculars, and on top of that, you were your school's volleyball team manager. You were merely a first year, but you did your job well, and the entire team loved you.

You had tried to power through the classes, running with just two hours of sleep. Work was starting to pile up, so you had no time for sleep.

You felt yourself falling asleep during lectures, curling up on the grass for quick naps during lunch, and throughout the day, you had the worst headache.

With luck, you managed to make it through, but you still had hours of volleyball ahead of you. You blinked hard, trying to get rid of the sleepiness clouding your head. Your head pounded, and nothing was really registering in your brain.

There was no denying it, you were sick.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, but it was still annoying. You didn't want to miss the day's volleyball practice, because you had an upcoming game, so you decided to just push through and deal with it. 

Ignoring how bad your head hurt, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the classroom.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto, someone you recognized as the captain of the team you were the manager for, spotted you from a distance and was already bouncing, beaming as he waved. You smiled back with a small wave. He didn't mind that you didn't match his enthusiasm; he was used to it, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about it.

The two of you walked down to the gym, Bokuto talking animatedly the whole way there in the background. You didn't mind though, it was nice to just listen. However, every word he chirped bore into your brain, seeming to echo.

You didn’t want to be rude, but you couldn’t help but try to drown out his voice by focusing on your surroundings.

A green bush. A tall tree. A group of students.

“Y/N?” Bokuto waved his hand in front of your face, and you looked up at the mention of your name.

“Hm? Sorry, sorry, I’m just... oh, we’re here!” you said, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want him to worry, and it was no big deal anyways... You could finally see the gym, and you let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the short walk was actually several miles long. 

You finally made it- 

Shoot.

A sudden dizzy spell overtook you. Shutting your eyes tight, you stumbled on your own feet, your legs giving out beneath you. No, no, no....

"Y/N!" Bokuto yelped as he caught you. He pulled you close to him, and whimpering, you leaned on his chest, trying to stay conscious.

“Sorry...” you breathed softly, just trying to focus on the way Bokuto’s chest went up, and down.

Up... and down. You shut your eyes tighter as a wave of your headache hit. Bokuto’s arms around you were definitely helping you stay standing, and you were thankful. Up... and down.

Then you slumped into his arms.

...

The second your eyes opened again, you were knocked back with a hug. You grunted at the unexpected impact, but smiled when you realized it was Bokuto.

"Y/N! You're awake!" Bokuto yelled, his voice watery with relief. "I thought you died," he sobbed, and you hugged him tight.

"I'm fine, I promise," you said with a laugh. "Just... thirsty." Bokuto leaped to get you a glass of water as fast as he could.

While he was gone, you looked around to see that you were in the nurse's office. You could just imagine Bokuto running with you unconscious in his arms, and you smiled at the thought.

Bokuto came back with the promised water, and he lay a hand on you to check up on your temperature.

"You're really burning up... why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he asked, pouting.

"I didn't want you to worry... I thought I would be fine, and that I would make it through practice." He shook his head.

"I want to know, okay?" You nodded with a smile.

"How long was I unconscious?" He thought for a second before responding.

"Only for a couple seconds, but you were kinda drowsy so we made you rest. It's been a couple hours now." You immediately got up.

"Practice isn't over yet?" you asked, still hopeful. Maybe you could at least stay for an hour? It was better than noth-

"Y/N..." he sad warningly, and you knew going wasn't an option.

"Fine..."

"Good," he responded, satisfied with your answer.

Walking out of the classroom, you met eyes with Oikawa Tooru, who immediately lit up at the sight of you. His smile immediately turned into a frown, immediately noticing something was different about you, given how perceptive he was.

"What's wrong?" he questioned slowly, and you shook your head.

"Nothing's wrong, Tooru... I'm just tired," you said, but he looked at you suspiciously.

“You should take a break,” he reminded you gently, and you shook your head, no matter how tempted you were.

“I really can’t, I’ve got… a lot to do. But I’m fine, I swear,” you assured him, gesturing towards the gym, despite the sick feeling in your body. You swallowed, trying to swallow the dizziness. “Let’s go!” You tried for a smile, and Oikawa responded with a hesitant one, finally deciding to let it go. 

Starting to walk towards the gym with the volleyball player following close behind, you shook your head, trying to shake out the growing light-headed feeling that you dreaded. It wouldn’t go away.

Shutting your eyes as tight as you could, you didn’t even notice that you stopped walking until someone tapped your shoulder. 

“Hm?” You peeked your eyes open slightly to notice Oikawa standing next to you. 

“Y/N-chan?” His face was written all over with concern.

“Sorry, I just…” You laughed sheepishly, trying to shrug it off, but the pain was beginning to be way too much. “I.. just…” you tried to say, but you were unable to finish as you swayed to one side, tripping over your own feet trying to stay standing. You heard Oikawa's yelp as he rushed to catch you, and you blinked slowly before passing out completely.

...

As soon as you woke up, you found yourself in your own bedroom. When you got up, wondering how you got there, you were met with Oikawa's frown.

"When was the last time you had at least seven hours of sleep?" he asked, disapproval in his eyes as he pushed you back into bed. You gave a shy smile.

"Maybe... two weeks ago?" Oikawa gasped dramatically before tutting in distaste.

"You need to sleep, or else your health will plummet," he said, shaking his head. Of course, at that moment, your headache had to come back. You winced and shut your eyes, burying your face into your hands. "What's wrong?" You shook your head with a sigh.

"My head's killing me," you admitted. "It's been like this all day."

"Wha- Y/N," he scolded, leaving the room. Where was he going? Ah. He came back with some medicine and a thermometer.

"Thanks." You swallowed the medicine, and Oikawa immediately forced the thermometer into your mouth.

"103.2?! Y/N, you'll be here for a good three days. I'm not ever letting you leave your bed until you get better, and I won't leave either." You laughed at his motherly antics.

"But what about pract-" you started, but Oikawa shushed you.

"Think of it as a much needed break." You stared at him.

"Did you at least go today?"

"No, of course not! You were freaking unconscious, I can't go and hit some good serves if I know that my precious Y/N could possibly be in pain," he said with a pout.

"Aw, Tooru..." You kissed his cheek. "You're too swee-" He pushed you back into your pillows, pulling the covers up before you could finish.

"Now rest up, Y/N-chan."

You glanced at your phone; you still had an hour until volleyball practice...

A little nap wouldn't hurt, right?

You found a nice, private corner, and huddled up. Using your backpack as a pillow, you fell asleep almost instantly.

Some time later, Tsukishima was walking by, on his way to practice. His eyes spotted you asleep in the corner, and he smirked.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, laughing to himself softly. "Hey, get up, Y/N." He flicked his finger on your forehead, and laughed when you began to stir awake.

"Mm?" Your voice was raspy from both sickness and sleepiness, and you blinked your eyes, trying to adjust. You shielded your face from the light with your hand, and you finally made out Tsukki's tall figure kneeling in front of you. "Oh, hi Tsukki..." He held out his hand with a smug smile, offering to help you up.

You groaned when you realized that the nap didn't make your headache go away. Getting up too fast, you swayed for a good two seconds; Tsukki's hands were on your shoulders, trying to steady you.

"Ten bucks you don't make it through practice without passing out," he joked, but you had a feeling he was going to be ten dollars richer soon enough. You nodded sleepily, but quickly froze.

"Wait- am I late for practice?" You frantically dug your phone out, sighing in relief when you learned that you still had ten minutes to spare.

"What, you think I would be late?" Tsukishima said, jokingly. "But anyways, I'm not letting you go to practice today. Clearly you need rest... and..." His hand rested on your forehead, and he nodded. "Like I thought, you have a fever." You swatted his hand away.

"Today's practice is important, I can't miss it. I'll be fine, Tsukki, since when do you worry about me?" You turned around, heading towards the gym, when your head hurt just a bit too much. You winced, and faster than your brain could process what was happening, you were already falling to the ground and everything went dark.

...

"Oh, you're awake." You opened your eyes and saw Tsukishima waiting for you. You were in the nurse's office from the looks of it, and Tsukishima got up with some water and medicine.

"Here, take this." You nodded and followed his command.

"Thanks," you said, rubbing your head.

"Hm. You know how you asked when I started to worry about you?" he asked, sticking a thermometer into your mouth.

"Hm? Oh... yeah." You recalled how you had said something like that right before you passed out. You took the thermometer out and glanced at the temperature.

103.2. You hid the thermometer behind your back, knowing Tsukki would not be happy with your temperature.

"The answer was always; I always care about you, even if I don't seem like it."

"Wow, Tsukki..." It surprised you; you never thought you would hear anything nice coming out of Tsukishima's mouth.

"Also, you act like a five year old sometimes, people can't help but worry about you," he added. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. "Now hand over the thermometer. I didn't forget." Sighing, you reluctantly gave it to him.

"Welp, will you at least cuddle with me until I get better?" you asked with pleading eyes.

"Come on, Y/N. You're contagious..." You pouted, and he sighed. "Fine."

BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDDD!! THANKS FOR READING BABE

this is 100% not edited or proofread IM SORRY- IT MAY NOT EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE HAHSJFJRI

ANY THOUGHTS?? IM DYING TO KNOW OMG

send an ask to be added to my haikyuu taglist 👀

[forlovvers]

[ stupid confessions ]

pair: bsf!renjun x fem!reader ft. jaemin being a good friend lol

genre: fluff

warning(s): swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.1k

brief summary: in which you decide to (kinda) call your best friend at three am, because you’re drunk and can’t drive yourself home.

You stumble slightly, using the walls as support. Your head spun circles, and the loud music started to sound more like a singular beat that would cause a horrible migraine instead of vocals and shit.

You don’t know where you were going, you just let your legs take you to wherever they pleased. That is, until you bumped into a familiar body. The scent of faint cologne heightened your senses. You lifted your head to see Jaemin staring back at you.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” Jaemin raised a brow, taking ahold of your shoulders so you’d look straight (kinda) at him. “I’m– I’m–“ you had forgotten. What were you doing?

“Y/n, you’re drunk.” Jaemin stated, looking at you with concern. Jaemin wrapped his hand around your forearm, dragging you outside of the house that seemed to rock back and forth, resulting in you becoming dizzy. “You need someone to take you home. Did you come with anyone?” He asked once you two were seated on the stone steps of the porch.

“Hmm,” you pondered his question, your pointer finger tapping your chin in thought. “Nope.” This you had knew, despite you being extremely drunk. This was because before coming to the party, you had asked Renjun to take you (you would drive yourself but you couldn’t, mostly because you failed your drivers test on multiple occasions). He said no because it wasn’t ‘safe’. Sure the party was located in a sketchy area and the cops usually would show up in an hour or two, but you waved it off like it was nothing too serious.

This was the start of your big fight. Usually, Renjun and you never really had big fights. Yea, there were some here and there but you both usually met in the middle and apologized to each other. But something about this fight, really had tipped both of you off edge. The argument ended with you in tears and Renjun slamming a door in your face. So, you took a bus to the party instead and drank your night away, as if that would solve your problems.

“Then who drove you here? Because we both know you cannot drive.” Jaemin chuckled to himself a little and your lips formed into an unintentional pout. “No one. I took a bus.” You shrugged, rubbing your left eye. Suddenly you felt sleepy. A sudden feeling of drowsiness soared through your entire body and your limbs began to feel like jelly.

A yawn escaped your lips, quickly followed by a hiccup. You laugh a little yourself before leaning against Jaemin’s shoulder, and closing your eyes. Normally, you aren’t the best with skinship and would prefer not to get close with others, but when you’re a intoxicated you don’t seem to mind. No matter who it is.

“Okay, okay. Let’s call someone to pick you up.” Jaemin held out his palm for your phone. Willingly, you took out your phone from your back packet and placed it in his hand.

Jaemin easily unlocked your phone with your facial recognition, and started going through your contacts. One name popped up and he pressed on it. The line rung for a bit before Jaemin heard a shuffle from the other end of the line. “Y/n, what the hell-“ Renjun’s voice was cut off.

“Renjun, can you come and pick her up?” Jaemin tapped his feet against the cobblestone steps, watching as you got up to lay on front lawn, mostly because the steps were very uncomfortable for sleep. “Please. Y/n’s currently passed out, drunk, on someone’s front lawn.” Jaemin squinted at the sight of you.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Was what Jaemin heard last before Renjun hung up.


The moist green grass poked at your exposed skin, tickling at your head every time you shifted slightly. Your hair was sprawled across the grass, the feeling of the wind passing by simply created goosebumps along your arms and legs. Why hadn’t you brought a change of pants? Or at least a sweater. Jaemin sat on the steps and watched you from afar, just to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, just as Renjun’s car pulled up to the house.

Renjun approached you, exhaling softly at the sight of you. He also acknowledged Jaemin, who let out a sigh if relief, thanking the gods he wouldn’t have to be your babysitter anymore.

“Y/n.” Renjun called out your name, and your head immediately shot up (despite your head pounding from that). You smiled at him, wondering if your mind was playing games on you when he didn’t smile back.

“How irresponsible can you be?” He said sternly, offering his hand to pull you up. “What do you mean?” Your words slurred together. “It was only one drink.” You lied right through your teeth, but Renjun knew better than to trust you on how much alcohol you consumed.

“I’m not going until you say I’m responsible.” You threatened, crossing your arms dramatically. Renjun rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’re responsible. Now, hurry up.” His hand was still offered out for you to grab.

You smiled successfully before placing your cold hand in his warm one, letting him pull you up. Because using your own two feet when drunk was hard, you held onto Renjun for support. You didn’t notice, but a faint pink blush painted his cheeks at your close proximity.

Renjun led you to his car and you marveled at it, as if you have never seen it before. “Bye Jaem!” You yelled to the black haired boy as Renjun practically pushed you into the passenger seat. Once you both were in the car, he started the engine up and began to drive away.

“Renjun,” you say, watching as the both of you get further and further away from the house. He responded with a simple hum, hands gripping onto the steering wheel unreasonably tight. “Do you think my parents will be mad if I come home like this?”

Crap. He had totally forgotten that you still lived with your parents. “Well... Just in case, you can stay over at my place.” He said, eyes glued to the road. It was almost like he was refusing to look at you. “So, like a sleepover?” Your eyes lit up like a happy five-year old who just received ice cream on a hot summer day.

“Yea, something like that.” And just like that, the drive was silent. Renjun felt awkward after your guys’ big fight and you were too tired to make any small talk.

Eventually, you found yourself drifting away into unconsciousness. Your eyelids drooped closed and soft snores soon escaped your lips. Renjun took a quick glance at you, biting back a smile, remembering he was still upset with you. Your hair was disheveled and some strands stuck to your forehead due to sweat. Your face was flushed and your eyelashes wavered every time your chest moved up and down.

Once he pulled up to his place, Renjun gently shook you. Your eyes fluttered opened to be met with his dark chocolate ones. “Y/n? We’re here.” He said, helping you out of the car, and you let him– mostly because it felt like you’d fall flat onto your face at any given moment.

It wasn’t until the two of you got inside the apartment building, Renjun realized that you’d have to walk up forty (he’s exaggerating) flight of stairs. The elevator was currently out of order, and that made things just so much easier.

“Okay, Y/n, get on my back.” Renjun said as he turned so his back would face you. You complied and sloppily threw yourself onto his back, doing your best to help him out, but in the end you just made more work for him. Renjun huffed, hauling you onto his back as best as he could without annoying you and hurting himself, although you were already complaining about his back not being comfortable at all.

“Gosh Y/n, the things I do for you.” He sighed, staring at the long flight of stairs ahead of him. This was his cardio for the day. And the rest of the year.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After what seemed like an eternity, Renjun had finally made it to his apartment. To say that Renjun was dead was an understatement, or at least in his eyes. He almost dropped you out of exhaustion as he fumbled with his pockets, looking for his house keys.

Once Renjun found his keys, he placed the right one into the slot and twisted it and swung the door open. He helped you off his back– which was now aching and sore– before letting himself and you into his apartment. Renjun shut his front door and sighed harshly.

“Y/n sit here.” He instructed, pointing to the wooden bench that sat opposite of the familiar metal show rack. Half-asleep, you sat down and started to try and put your hair in a ponytail so it’d be out of your face, only to realize you didn’t have a hairband.

Renjun knelt in front of you and began untying your dirty shoelaces. Once he was done with untying your left shoe, he moved onto the other shoe. He then took off both shoes before placing them onto the rack. Renjun stood up and kicked off his own shoes, not bothering to put them away nicely like he did yours.

“Okay, this way.” He helped you to his small yet cozy living room. Despite you being drunk and the lights being off, you knew his apartment layout by heart because of how often you visited. The big windowsill was where he kept all his plants. Green leaves tattered beneath the pots, you could tell he just watered them today. The TV opposite the sofa was turned off and everything was neatly secured away on shelves or in boxes, just like always.

Renjun sat on the grey sofa, pulling you down with him. Unknowingly, you sat with your back facing him. You could feel his fingers gently entangle with your hair, tugging at your h/c colored strands. He separated your hair into three locks, then started to criss-cross them.

“Renjun,”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.” You breathed the words like they were glass. “What for?” You could feel his fingers tense as they worked through your hair. “Um, our fight earlier.” You drummed your fingers against your knee, awaiting his response. He paused for a moment, “It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal. And, I’m sorry too.”

Silence.

Renjun continued to do your hair, seemingly messing up more than once. He kept undoing, and redoing your hair; when he didn’t like how the braid turned out– or when a strand was out of place. Truthfully, he just liked running his fingers through your hair.

“Renjun?”

“Hm?”

“I…” Were these words going to spill from your mouth right here, right now? At three in the morning, on a normal-ish Sunday? Apparently the alcohol had made you bold. “I like you.” Renjun laughed, “I mean I hope so, after all we are friends.”

“No, I mean like, like you.”

More silence.

“Renjun?” You turned to face him fully, his hands falling to his lap. “Are you going to say anything?” Anxiety bubbled in your chest as your eyes looked over his face for any sort of positive or negative reaction. “Did you hear me? I like you.”

The blonde haired boy leaned in close to you, to the point where you could feel his breath. “I heard you. I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He said softly, his mouth tugging into a mischievous grin.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in close enough, your lips meeting with his.

a/n: this is unedited so don’t come at me 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[ch4nb4ng]

Shine

Pairings: fem reader X hyunjin (a little bit of minho)

Warnings: oral sex, penetration, possible (?) harsh words (like rejection), masturbation 

Word Count: 10.3k

A/N: i have not posted for a while and i do apologise ive had a lot of family stuff going on. this took me a while to write so i hope you enjoy it :)

The sudden arms around your waist took you by surprise as you scooped the ice cream from the tub to your glass.

“Hi y/n,” Hyunjin giggled, his muffled breath dancing across your neck. Your body froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Yes, he had always been this touchy feely kind of person, but the amount of flirtation had increased recently; it was frustrating.

He used to be this cute little boy, full of life and innocence. Short black hair that used to flop over his eyes, bare, pale skin; pretty much as plain as they come. Hyunjin always had such a gentle nature about him. He supported you in whatever you wanted to do and dream of. He was the dictionary definition of a best friend. His personality didn’t change, but other things began too, especially for you. You were high school sweethearts. Always at each other’s hip, studying together, hanging out together at parties, after school; wherever. You both got into the same college, deciding to live together. That was when things began to take a turn. From growing out his hair, dyeing it blonde, getting a lip ring (and multiple other piercings), and, not to mention the multitude of tattoos he started to get carved onto his body was making you feel a different way. Even the way he dressed. You wouldn’t be able to lose him if you went out; the clanging of the chains dangling from his hips and neck was impossible not to hear. He wasn’t the pure, wholesome boy you used to know, and that had become a very, very pressing problem for you.

“Heyyyyyy,” you gasped, breath heavy from the slight scare attack he gave you. Your eyes automatically gazing at the slightly exposed skin showing due to the unbuttoned first button on his loose shirt.

“Oh my god Hyunjin,” your eyes widened, pushing his clothing to the side, “you got another tattoo?”

“Yeah what do you think?”

You ignored his question, starting to analyse it heavenly. A large, striking dagger; god, that was sexy. Biting down on your bottom lip, you giggled, lightly tracing your finger across the outline.

“I do like it actually.”

You smiled, looking up at him. How were the two of you suddenly so close? A hand was resting on your hip, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to your face. God he was such a fucking flirt, it was so irritating. Like he loved to play with you; see how much of a reaction he could get from you. You were clearly wrapped around his finger. It wasn’t like he wasn’t intelligent either. He began to know his way around girls, you would be completely dumbfounded if he hadn’t yet worked out the feelings you had for him. You wouldn’t even think twice, but when he’s looking at you, like that, inches away from your lips, it was hypnotising, leaving you wanting more every time. The cocky smirk fell from his face, spinning away from you and dropping onto the couch to watch some tv. He looked at you, playfully smiling as he pat the empty area next to him, inviting you to sit with him. Unable to refuse, you scurried over, legs slightly pushed against his as he flicked through the channels for something to watch. A comfortable silence fell over the room as you rested your head on his shoulder, a lively hum escaping his lips at the gentle contact.

“Are you doing anything tonight y/n?”

“I was going to ask you actually, do you think you could help me with algebra prac tonight?”

That playful smirk returned to his face, making your stomach swoon. How could he not know the effect his mysterious look had on you? You tucked your hair behind your ears, abruptly standing up and walking to your room, shutting the door behind you. Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed at your shortness; it somehow began to make his heart hurt. Immediate panic came over him as he ran after you, gently knocking on your door.

“Y/n?”

No response.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

“Yes Hyunjin,” you reply, opening the door with a smile. A wave of relief flooded through Hyunjin seeing you happy. He wanted nothing but for you to be happy. It was when he became the happiest. If you showed him any sign of sadness or stress, he felt like he was losing his mind. You were his number one priority. Regardless if he had a million things going on, you being content was the only thing that had mattered. 

You snapped him out of his thoughts, clicking in front of his face as you let him come to your room and take the seat next to you at your desk. Opening your book made his eyes automatically widen. You felt puzzled, beginning to stress slightly. If he didn’t know how to do it, how would you learn? Hyunjin was the only one who could actually get through to you when it came to understanding the multitude of theories you had to memorise. You felt your shoulders, which were previously tense, relax once he stood back up, letting his hands rest on you, thumbs digging slightly into your muscles as he began to analyse your work. A muffled whine escaped your lips at the feeling of his touch; so delicate, yet so rough. Tilting your head, you pushed your hair to the side; nothing more needed to be said. Hyunjin chuckled, enjoying your playful antics. His fingertips traveled across your skin, slowly reaching up to your neck. Rolling your head forward, you became limp. It was so exhausting putting up a facade in front of him. Just this one time, you could give into his touch.

“Y/n you’re so tight-”

“What?”

Your body froze. You weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly.

“Your muscles are so tight, is this really stressing you out?”

“Oh,” you replied, slightly relieved, “uhm, yeah it is. I honestly don't understand it at all.”

“Well we cannot work under these conditions,” he gasped, “get on your bed for me why don't you?”

You were flabbergasted. 

“Y/n, get your mind out of the gutter,” he snickered, causing you to playfully hit his arm.

You followed his instructions, stomach pressed against the quilt of your bed. Your eyes were closed, slightly becoming patient at the way Hyunjin was taking his time with you. 

“Are you ready for the best massage of your life?”

“Sure am Jinnie.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your lips. The way Hyunjin climbed onto your bed, sitting on top of you, delicately moving your hair to make sure your back was exposed and bare to him. The way he was leaning down, lips almost pressing to your ear as his fingers began to sink into your skin. A small groan left your lips. Hyunjin had now grasped a good feeling of your body, knowing all the spots that were making you uptight. The temperature in the room was rising, whether you wanted to accept it or not. Your arousal was becoming apparent, core becoming hotter with each passing moment. Thumb digging into every place you longed for him. They began to travel, lingering under the edge of your shirt. It was obvious that Hyunjin’s only intentions were to make you feel better. You weren’t sure if it was the satisfactory chuckle that left his lips every two seconds, or the slight hard on that was becoming pressed against your thigh. Surely this was anything but innocent. Releasing the stress so he could help you with your homework. But the moans leaving your mouth was slowly but surely changing the atmosphere of the originally family friendly, helpful environment that was once created. 

“Your hands feel so good,” you blurted out, quickly burying your face into the sheets. You couldn’t believe you had just said that out loud. Your heart began to race in anticipation, dying for Hyunjin to say literally anything.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he hummed, standing up. An almost whimper escaped your lips. Dabbing your fingers to your forehead, you gasped. You were already sweating. A blush creeping onto your face. If he could make you this hot from a playful massage, imagine what else he could do with those fingers.

Taking your previous position on your chair, your head was feeling dizzy. Hyunjin began to explain the equation, yet all you could think about was his hands wrapped around your neck, trickling down your sides and to your-

“So do you understand it now y/n, y/n?”

“Oh,” you looked up, avoiding his piercing gaze, “um, yeah, i do, thank you.”

“God,” he huffed, rolling his eyes, “you must be real tired huh?”

“What? No Im fine-”

“Let me tuck you into bed.”

“Into bed?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, walking over and pulling the sheets back, “you aren’t listening to me so I think you need to rest, come here.”

Unable to refuse him, you quickly hopped in. Your body was tense, waiting for Hyunjin to leave. But he didn’t. The feeling of his arms wrapping around your torso, muscular frame pressing into your back. Your muscles began to relax straight away, practically melting into him. God, he liked to make things hard for you.

“Let’s get some sleep, and we can go over this in the library, okay y/n?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, all your senses shutting off for the night. The last thing you heard was his baby breaths, tickling the back of your neck

***

Your eyes were awake, feeling the dishevelled strands of hair sprawled across your face, bed sheets completely tangled. A slick smile spread across your face at the thoughts of last night's subtle, yet not so subtle actions. You slapped yourself across the face. Getting out of bed, you made your way to the kitchen, still drowsy from the good quality sleep, and company you had. Tensions were high all of yesterday, keeping you aroused for a prolonged period of time. Wanting to have some fun, you decided to change out of the clothes you were in, stripping off and wearing nothing but your silk robe as you made your way to the kitchen. 

“Morning sleepy head,” Hyunjin smiled, taking his tongue in between his teeth as he began to look you up and down. One hand on the frying pan, the other leaning on the kitchen bench, “you tryna put on a show for me or what ?”

“Pfft,” you scoffed, joining him in leaning against the bench, “you wish Mr. Hwang.”

“Yeah uh, anyways,” he interjected, followed by a small cough, “i’m gonna have a shower and then we can head to the library.”

“Uh sure bub,” you smile, stealing a piece of toast from his plate, “I’ll go get ready and grab my stuff.”

Sending a wink Hyunjin’s way, you headed back to your room, collecting your thoughts and self together. 

His jaw clenched as soon he saw your behind. A frustrated hand ran through his hair. “God,” he mumbled to himself. Quickly cleaning the frying pan, he headed to the shower, turning the water on, extra hot. Hands relying on the glass frame, he let the steaming droplets run down his body. Eyes closed, he began to think, hard, compartmentalising the many thoughts of you running through his mind. One hand began to trail down his neck, dragging down the center of his body. A small groan escaped his lips, letting his fingertips gently wrap around his base. The combination of water and steam filled his vision as he began to pump himself, images of your exposed body lying in front of him, having you all to himself. His grip became harder at thought, having you moan his name over and over, tongue dragging across his chest, marking the ink that practically covered him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “y/n.”

Hyunjin stumbled backwards, letting his back dig into the sidewall as he threw his head back. Grabbing the soap, he held it above his head, letting it dangle across his length. He was already sensitive; the feeling of the cold liquid sending a shiver down his spine. Letting both of his hands now wrap around his cock, he made his own jaw drop. Images of his hands imprinted around your torso, completely manhandling you was making him dizzy. He wanted it, you, so bad.His thoughts were warped on a daily basis; they were all about you. All the times he thought about grabbing your waist, slamming you against the wall as he double pumped himself, jaw dropping open as his hips began to buck up. He was becoming desperate to touch you, to feel you under him. He wanted you squirming, begging for you. He just wanted to make you feel good. 

“Ah fuck y/n, I’m cuming,” he whined, seeing his liquid cover the glass. He stood there for minutes, heavily panting as he came down from his high. Eyes wide open, head snapping forward, Hyunjin turned off the water, quickly dressing himself and heading out to the couch to wait for you.

***

“Do you get it now?”

“Yes,” you exclaimed, “finally, thank you Hyunjin.”

What felt like hours of studying was finally paying off. Having hyunjin as your teacher was another bonus of course. The subtle grazes against your leg, his small thumb rubbing circles on your back. You were surprised how your body never went into sensory overload. Hyunjin’s touch was delicate, yet so enticing. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His daily entertainment; how flustered could he make you? You adjusted your posture, a nervous cough escaping your chest, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“y/n, are you okay?”

“Uh yeah,” you shrugged, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem flustered?” he questioned, a hint of innocence in his tone. Placing each elbow on the table, he smirked, gaze strong on you,

“Am i turning you on right now?”

Face beginning to feel hot, you began to laugh, playfully hitting him to avert that fact that you actually were flustered.

“Hyunjin, dont be stupid!”

He began to laugh with you, making your heart hurt a little. You knew it was all fun and games for him and he was just mucking around. Most of the time you found it funny too, but there were moments where you wished that he was being serious; this was one of these moments.

“Hyunjin’s teaching skills are okay from what i’ve seen.”

A huge grin swiped your face as you saw Minho, Chan and Jisung approach your table.

“My favorite people,” you paused half way through the sentence, turning to Hyunjin, “how are you guys doing!”

“I’m doing great,” Chan winked, making you gag on the spot. The boys began an uproar of laughter, completely dying at the way you completely rejected him. He was always harmlessly playful with you; this was regular banter you shared.

“Anyways,” Minho interjected, “we are all doing good, studying of course, the usual. I wanna go out though.”

“Oh my god yes,” Jisung gasped, “that’s such a good idea!”

“We haven’t gone out in so long,” you sighed, “I’m down.”

All of the boys clapped. What felt like a stressful, exhausting energy became a peaceful, relaxing one. Going out clubbing with the boys was so much fun. Things sometimes went south, but nonetheless, when everyone’s drunk, everyone’s having fun. 

“We just finished studying actually,” Jisung smiled, collecting his books and standing up, “if you guys are done we can go out for dinner tonight and then go out?”

“Oh um, I'm gonna study for a bit longer,” Hyunjin interjected, “and then I'll meet you guys out.”

Nodding in response, the rest of the boys got up, making their way back to their dorms. Minho remained seated.

“I-I’m gonna study for a bit longer as well. We can get something to eat and meet you guys later?”

You smiled at them; that was until you felt a heavy blow to your backside, causing half the students to turn and look at you.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, “what the fuck was that for?”

Playing with your fingertips previously, Hyunjin wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you back down, letting his ink covered fingertips sit on your neck,

“You know I'm just mucking around,” he whispered, moving closer to your ear, “were you thinking of something different?”

Pulling away from him, your eyes widened, playfully hitting him once more before grabbing your stuff and finally leaving. 

Waiting for a cue of privacy, Minho coughed obnoxiously, steering Hyunjin’s gaze away from behind.

“So,” Minho began, “y/n looked real cute today all snuggled up against you.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin nervously chuckled, “i don't know what you're talking about.”

“You know,” Minho leaned closer to him, “I think i’m gonna ask her out.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. A pang hit him at the base of his stomach.

“Oh,” Hyunjin mumbled, “since when have you been interested in y/n?”

“Uh, since she started hanging around us,” he scoffed, making Hyunjin's fingers curl into his palm, “I was just telling you because, well, you know, you’re the closest to her and incase you guys has something going on -”

“We don't.” 

“Are you sure,” Minho questioned, slightly enjoying how easily he could rile him up, “say something now because if you don't, she’s gonna end up in my bed tonight-”

“I told you, there’s no problem. I'm gonna go back to my room and have a shower, do you want to come then we can go eat with y/n?”

Both boys were now standing, close together. The atmosphere had changed from playful to territorial very quickly. You could cut it with a knife.

“Sounds good to me. She’ll say no though, I know her too well.”

Hyunjin wanted to punch the extremely cocky smirk spreading across Minho’s face. It was no secret that Minho’s reputation with girls was, well, extensive. From one night stands, to threesomes, foursomes, you name it. There wasn’t one thing that this dude had not done. It made Hyunjin nervous. Seeing the way Minho treated other girls made his skin crawl. He didn’t want you to be just a number on his list. You were naive, Hyunjin knew that. He always knew that you always saw the best in people. It was one of the many things he adored about you, but in this current moment, it was making his heart sink. He wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or Minho’s arrogant agenda, but he was definitely feeling uneasy. 

***

The usual ice droplets that soaked your body felt like fire. Hyunjin was always touchy feely, but the way he had been with you the past couple of days was affecting you so much more than it usually did. The thought alone made you feel lightheaded. A large sigh came as your body pressed up against the glass frame. Your frustration was growing, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep these Hyunjin fantasies in your head. 

Stepping out of the shower, you wiped the fogginess sticking to the mirror. Pushing your hair back, you looked at yourself for what felt like a really long time. Nerves began to bundle in your stomach. Something about tonight was different. It began to feel a different way. Your chest jumped at the possibility of something finally happening with him. 

“Pfft who am i kidding,” you yelled at yourself in the mirror, pushing your nose up against the foggy glass, “keep dreaming girl.”

Wrapping your towel around your naked torso, you walked out to the kitchen, finding a few snacks too much on. You had time to procrastinate getting ready. Turning on the tv, you happily munched away, enjoying your favorite show, Jane the virgin. The previous bundle of nerves dissipated as you let yourself sink into the couch. Going out with the boys was nothing out of the ordinary, but the tensions between you and Hyunjin felt the highest it had ever been. What was worse was that it wasn’t the first time that the atmosphere had been intense.

***

“Oooo,” Hyunjin yelled, quickly snatching your phone from your grasp, “who is this you're talking to now.”

“HYUNJIN IT’S NO ONE,” you screamed, standing up in front of him, “can you mind your business?” 

The swipe across his hands to get your phone back failed, causing him to begin running around the apartment, simultaneously scrolling your messages. Sure you entertained other guys from time to time. However, none of them made you feel hot the way hyunjin did. It was practically impossible. Even looking at Hyunjin made you feel like exploding on the spot.

Following his charade of nonsense, frustration began to grow. Chasing him around the house was no easy task. He was fast and flexible. There was no way you would be able to catch him. Coming to a stand still, you sighed.

“Hyunjin please,” you whined, waiting for him to come out of hiding, “if you give me my phone back, i’ll tell you.”

A loud gasp left your lips when you felt him from behind. Hands pinned to your sides, Hyunjin used his force, pinning you against the wall adjacent to your previous stance. Sticking his lips out, he chuckled, blowing the hair that was covering his gently frustrated eyes burning down on you. Nerves were setting in, especially once his cocky smirk began to form on his yet to be touched lips. Letting a hand roam, your mind was becoming dizzy, unable to control what your body was doing. That could’ve explained how your fingertips were spread across his clean chest, nearly half the buttons on his shirt somehow were undone. Were they already like that? Did you do it? You weren’t able to comprehend the situation at hand.

“Y/n,” he paused, “baby. Why are you talking to other guys?”

You could feel the lump forming at your throat. Intimidation was creeping in, lingering the longer he kept his hungry eyes on you.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Come on,” Hyunjin huffed, swiftly dragging his fleshy thumb across your bottom lip, “you don't need other guys. I’m right here.”

***

“What do you wanna eat?”

Minho's presence was putting Hyunjin off guard. All of his thoughts led to you right now. 

“Uh, I don't mind, it's up to you,” he mumbled. He could feel the blood running through his body becoming warmer with each passing second. Opening the door to the apartment made him nervous suddenly. Especially when he opened the door to you in nothing but a petite towel.

“Y/n?”

“Hey hyunjin-”

You spun around, tripping over the carpet in front of you.

“Oh.. Minho’s here too,” you stated, praying to the gods that you were still fully covered. Minho’s facial expressions conformed to those of concern as soon as your body hit the ground. Finger tips traveling to your legs, slowly up your arms, landing on your cheek.

“Holy shit y/n, are you okay?”

“Uh yeah,” you smiled, “I’m fine.”

Helping you up from the floor, Minho reciprocating the innocent smile. You sent a hard glare at Hyunjin after, causing hyunjin to huff, loud. Saying nothing, he walked straight out the fridge, finding any possible beer that was in sight, and, well, sculling it. 

“Hyunjin,” you yelled, running over, one hand keeping your towel secure, the other hitting him on the back, “what are you doing? We haven’t even eaten yet!”

“What,” he hissed, making you uncomfortably step away, “are you my mom?”

“No,” you replied back harshly, eyebrows furrowing at the way he was speaking to you all of a sudden, “God, what’s with the sulky attitude?”

You reached passed, purposefully brushing your barely covered chest across his torso, reaching for a chocolate bar.

“Minho,” you called, keeping your gaze fixated up at Hyunjin, “do you wanna come help me pick an outfit for tonight?”

The question made Hyunjin crush the now empty beer can in his grip. 

“Uh sure,” Minho answered, somewhat courteous about the interaction the two of you just had. He followed you to your room, looking forward to the way you were about to try on these outfits just for him.

“Okay so,” you began, “I have two,” you paused, making sure you were loud enough for the Hyunjin to hear, “you can sit here, and I'll go and quickly change into the first one.”

The look on Minho’s face was delectable. Like he was a kid in a candy store. Placing your fingers on his chest, you gave him a soft nudge, making him fall and lay back on your bed. You turned to your wardrobe, making sure to cautiously bend over and pick out the first outfit. You looked back at him as you walked out the door. The way he spread his legs right open, waiting in anticipation for you was fucking hot. 

A sigh of relief escaped your chest as you closed the bathroom door, finally able to drop this irritating towel and put some actual clothes on. This moment gave you a minute of peace, thinking about what you were actually doing. Harmlessly playing around with Minho to make Hyunjin jealous. Would it even work? Usually it was something you would question and/or doubt. However, it did not matter right now. Whether it made him envious or not, you were sick of having hopes that something would happen. Minho was very attractive, and he had shown previous interest in you before. A little fun wouldn’t hurt right.

“Y/n?”

You rolled your eyes hearing Hyunjin’s voice and knocked at the door. Shimmying into your dress, you sighed, opening the door for him.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he paused, hesitating, “I’m sorry for acting the way I did just before.”

You said nothing, instead, letting him walk in while you began to do your makeup.

“I just don’t understand why you think you can talk to me like that, especially in front of your friends?”

“Because, uh, well.”

You huffed at his hesitation to answer.

“Of course you don't kno-”

His actions spoke louder than words, as they were pinning you up against the glass shower frame. You could feel the magnitude of shivers fall through your spine, yet your skin felt hot, especially in the place he was touching you.

“I do know,” he answered, eyes burning. He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his blacked locks.

“What do you know,” you smirked, looking up at him, bringing a hand around his neck, “tell me.”

The intensity had never been so heavy. Standing there in dead silence, eyes pouring into each other. Inches apart. It could be so easy for you to just reach up and finally, maybe finally, let yourself experience the feeling of those damn lips brushing your wanting ones. You could picture how this ended in your head right now. Legs wrapped around his torso, lips tickling your neck. Hell, you could even somehow reach around and just turn the shower on, give you not only a reason to be naked, but another reason as to why this should happen; right here, right now.

“Y/n, are you okay,” Minho yelled, making you break away from Hyunjin, “you’ve been in there for a long time just to put some clothes on.”

Brushing yourself off, you left Hyunjin to himself, absolutely gobsmacked like nothing had ever happened. He could do nothing, but walk out and see you standing in front of his best friend. Dressing up for him. Showing off for him. Saying that it made Hyunjin’s blood boil was an understatement.

“Wow,” Minho hummed in approval, “spin around for me princess.”

You did as you were told, allowing his eyes to linger on your figure. All Hyunjin could do was just stand in the hallway, jaw dropped. His brain was ringing with anger. Storming off, all he could do was look into the fridge, quickly sipping on another beer can.

Finally stepping out of your room with Minho, Hyunjin huffed, barely paying attention to him. But when he saw you, he could feel the tent in his pants beginning to form. Tight black dress, long hair cascading down your shoulders. You looked perfect to him.

“Ready to go Hyunjin?”

He blinked a few times.

“Um, yeah I am.”

“Good,” you smirked, grabbing Minho's arms and wrapping them around your torso.

***

The music was blaring through the speaker system as you barely stood at the bar, chugging down the 5th round of shots Chan had bought for all of you.

“To friendship!” he yelled.

“Friendship,” you slurred in response, humming at the way the liquid burned your chest. It’s painful the  first time, but after the 5th one, it's the fiery sensation that you want nothing more than to feel again. Everyone was loud and fun, having their time of life. Except for Hyunjin of course, silently sipping on his drink in the corner. You stumbled over to him, somewhat heavily slapping him on the shoulder.

“Hyunjin,” you smiled, feeling your eyes get smaller, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“But you aren't acting like the Hyunjin that I know.”

You pouted, digging your index fingers into his chest.

“Nothing,” he snapped, “I’m fine.”

His response made you pissed off to say the least. But giving him a good scolding or fighting him was not even worth your energy. Why was he being so sulky? He was the one who pushed you against any hard surface whenever he was mad. The one who teased you with massages, lingering gazes, sinful touches. The thoughts of those many moments became a sudden sensory overload. You hurried away, quickly grabbing Minho's wrist and dragging him to the dance floor.

“Dance with me,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and placing them on your sides as you turned to face away from him. Closing your eyes, you let the music pour into you, head lying in the crook on Minho’s neck as you let your body explore him. The satisfactory groans that left his lips and slipped into your ears felt like paradise. It felt so good, feeling someone finally reciprocate their interest in you. His grip on you was strong, thumb digging into your sides as he pulled you close, letting you feel his hard on from behind you. A deep hum left your throat, making him smile against your lobe.

“Feeling okay baby?”

“Mmmm yeah,” you chuckled, “I can tell you are.”

The deepness in your voice made him spin around. You threw your head back in satisfaction, allowing his lips to cover your neck in delicate, feverish kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck made him chuckle, allowing him to pull you even closer than before. He wasn’t shy, that’s for sure. You shivered, feeling the hard grip he had on your left thigh, hooking it around and lifting your leg around him. You looked up at him, seeing the darkness pooling behind his eyes as he told you to jump, allowing him to carry you. Your hands were in the air, completely loose and carefree as you continued to sway to the beat of the music. This was the first time you had felt so light. Everything felt so easy at this moment. Minho was giving you the attention you had been craving from Hyunjin for so long. You looked down at him, the previous dark facade long gone as he looked up at you with nothing but joy and admiration present. It made you smile. 

“Y/n,” he yelled, bringing you back to his level, “let’s go sit at the bar, I want to ask you something.”

You didn’t complain, trailing him out of the human traffic of the bar. ‘Of course,’ you muttered to yourself, seeing the only two available stools being right next to hyunjin and some random girl that he was feeling up under the table. You rolled your eyes; of course he was entertaining someone else. You ignored him, putting a gentle hand on Minho's thigh.

“Did you say something?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “did you want another drink?”

“Oh uhm, can you just get me some water please?”

“A-anything for you baby.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, not noticing till now how sloshed he really was. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, patiently waiting for the drinks he had ordered. You let your fingers linger on him, drawing sloppy lines along his inner thigh.

“So,” he began, taking a sip of his drink in between speech, “there’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

“You did say this from what I recall,” you laughed, scratching your head with your index finger; an attempt at acting puzzled in front of him.

“Yes,” he smirked, placing a hand on the outer edge of your knee, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date with me next week?”

His question knocked the alcohol right out of your system, completely sobering you up. You fixed your posture, slight panic settling into your body at his sudden question. It was just fun, wasn’t it? Just using him to make Hyunjin jealous? 

“Um wow,” you gasped, unsure what to say, “this is, well, um, I don't really know what to say.”

“What do you mean?”

Small dribbles of sweat began tapping on your forehead. Pushing your hair behind your ear, you lifted your hand, placing it apologetically over his.

“Minho,” you empathetically smiled, “I think that’s so sweet of you.”

You paused, quickly seeing the way the grin on his face began to turn down.

“And don't get me wrong, you’re a great guy and you have been nothing but sweet to me. But, I, well, I have feelings for someone else.”

The look on his face made you devastated. The hurt was evident in his eyes. Minho grabbed his drink, taking a big swig from it.

“Please say something,” you pleaded, beginning to feel uncomfortable from the painful silence.

“It’s fine.”

Heart beat beginning to race, you could feel it; the sudden change in atmosphere between the two of you.

“It is? Okay good because-”

“It’s fine because I was joking.”

A heavy pang hit you in the chest. Did you even hear him correctly?

“What?”

He looked up at you, a slight chuckle came from him.

“Oh, you thought I was being serious?”

He grabbed you by the wrist, picking it up and pushing it off of him.

“You weren’t being serious?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, “you think I would wanna be with you?”

“Well why would you ask me out if you didn’t feel that way?”

He took another swig.

“Yeah well whatever, it’s a mistake. I can barely even look at you.”

You stood up, blood beginning to boil now. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, following you and standing over you.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I wouldn’t go near you with a ten foot poll. Let alone fuck you? Pfft, your dreaming girl; good luck with that.”

You felt dizzy, unable to comprehend what Minho had just said to you. ‘What a dick’ you thought, before lifting your hand and slapping him across the face. You could feel the tear prick your eyes. You just wanted to fall, break down on the spot. No one had ever said such hurtful things to you before. Hyunjin turned around as soon as he heard the sound. You didn’t want to look at him. You were fuming. Minho just stood there, laughing at you.

“Listen here,” you snapped, “I get that you’re upset that your advances didn’t work, but you have no fucking right to say that to me, or anyone, ever again. Unless you apologise, I never want to speak to you ever again.”

And with that, you picked yourself up, and walked out of there, alone.

*** 

You couldn’t feel anything but the painful throb in the back of your head as you rose out of bed. Taking your phone off the charger you gasped, seeing the multiple missed calls Hyunjin had left you last night. You threw your phone back onto your bed, sheepishly making your way to the kitchen.

“Hey babes.”

You looked up to see a dishevelled Hyunjin waiting for you at the bench. You tried to smile at him, hide the pain of what Minho had said to you last night. Your heart was hurting, so bad. It was hard not to believe what he had said to you. You just wanted to run into Hyunjin's arms, let him whisper sweet nothings and tell you everything was okay; but you knew that if that happened, you would never let him go.

“Morning,” you mumbled, turning your back to him as you turned on the coffee machine, “how are you feeling this morning?”

“Yeah I'm good,” he mumbled back slowly making his way over to you. You sighed, a sharp inhale as you felt his arms wrap you from behind. Luckily, his head was resting on your back; he wasn’t able to see the impulsive tears slip from your eyes.

“Are you feeling okay after last night?”

Your heart sank. Humiliation was settling in; he had heard exactly what he said. It felt like you couldn't breathe. You were gasping for air. Hyunjin grabbed your waist, spinning you around, encompassing you in his embrace. He could feel you. The way your body sobbed against him. Hands against your chest, head curled into his neck. Holding it in was impossible, especially from Hyunjin. He knew you like the back of his hand.

“My angel,” he whimpered, cupping your cheeks and looking down at you, “I’m so sorry about what happened last night. I want you to know that none of what he said is true. You are such a beautiful person inside and out, and you didn't deserve that.”

You finally fixed your gaze back onto him. You had never seen such softness to his eyes before. You felt yourself giving  yourself to him. Vulnerability glowing in your heart as you felt yourself slipping away. His touch on you became stronger, hypnotising almost. Your hands found their way onto his body, unsafely creeping under his shirt and messily being dragged across his stomach. The front he attempted to put on was priceless; you could feel his body tensing underneath your corrupt touch.

“y/n,” he paused, slowly taking his hand from your body that he so desperately dreamed about, “I have to, uh,  go to class, but we can talk about this when I get back.”

Hyunjin sloppily grabbed his back and stumbled out the door, leaving you utterly speechless. It was the first time you could sense his nerves from something you did. A frustrated sigh left your lips. Nails digging into your palms, you stormed to your room, slamming the door behind you. 

“God,” you growled, aggressively falling onto your bed. Your eyelids suddenly felt heavy, but your mind was nonstop. 

The possibilities of finally having him was on a constant loop. The way his pupils changed when he looked at you. The shiver you could feel when you touched him. The ideas of what could have happened if Hyunjin didn’t leave was driving you up the wall. His voice played in your head, as if he was right next to you, whispering the praising words you longed to hear. A moan slipped from your lips, hands now sliding down the sides of your body as your mind became more vivid. The ache between your legs becomes stronger with each drawn out breath. You chuckled, replacing the ache with the thought of Hyunjin's tongue. You sat up, quickly stripping down to under garments. You took a quick look at yourself in the mirror; leaving you feeling anything but delirious.

You bit down on your bottom lip, letting your hands roam once more. Feeling the heat dance across your cheeks, you giggled, making yourself nervous at the thought of his summery breath cascade down your neck, blonde tips to follow. It’s like he was an island of fantasy and desire. All you could do was touch yourself. Letting your fingertips under the hem of your panties and into your folds. A sigh of relief slipping as you felt your legs become weak, falling back once more at the already immense pleasure you got from yourself. This was your way to reach the destination. The island of fantasy; desire; Hyunjin. Your stomach tensed at his name. The smile on your face could not be wiped off at any moment. Eyes closed, you could finally picture it. Hyunjin standing over you, a sadistic yet admirable facial expression hijacking his features, wishing that his lips were on your clit instead of your fingers.

“Baby,” you groaned, “Hyunjin, touch me.”

The slight cringe entering your mind at the way your voice broke at his name. ‘God how pathetic,’ you thought to yourself. He wasn’t even there and the effect he had on you was that strong. You continued your playful assault, teasing yourself at your entrance. Index finger gently prodding, you became dizzy. You were already close. The cause as to why was unknown. Were you really that good at touching yourself? Definitely not, the manifestation of every single thought of him was coming together, almost becoming overwhelming. 

“Hyunjin,” you choked, “I just want to be such a good girl for you. Please let me-”

“You wanna be a good girl for me, don't you baby?”

Your neck snapped, eyes widening at hyunjin staring down at you. 

“H-hyunjin,’ you stuttered, grabbing your pillow and covering yourself, “I c-can explain, I-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorted. He said nothing, tucking his hair behind his ear as he began to undo the buttons on his shirt. There was nothing you could do, but, well, stare. You propped yourself onto your elbows, feeling him wrap his arms around your torso, gently pressing your lips to every inch of his skin marked in ink. Hyunjin’s gaze was strong, never leaving your eyes as his smirk grew wider. Things were moving slow, way too slow for both of your liking. 

“You like what you see?”

“Please,” you scoffed, leaning your chin onto his stomach, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The look in his face was priceless. Smirk rapidly dissipating from his lips; he was pissed. It was obvious. Jaw clenched, tightly gripped fists. Something you had never seen before on him. You looked down, noticing the purple covering his knuckles. You grabbed his hand, panic settling in you.

“Hyunjin what the fuck happened are you okay?”

He said nothing, ripping his hand from your grip and dropping to his knees. The smirk obviously returned at the way your legs involuntarily spread for him.

“Oh, this,” he questioned, flexing them out in front of you, “this is what happens what you’re a fucking dick to my princess.”

His fingertips traced your hem, violently teasing you. You lifted your hips, attempting to have 

Hyunjin’s fingers ‘accidentally’ slip over your clothed core. But he chuckled, hooking his arms around your legs and pushing them down, giving you no room to squirm. He chuckled; the level of power he had over you was something he had dreamt of. He began to chuckle; he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck y/n,” he groaned, snaking one hand from under your leg and onto your panties, sending a noticeable shiver down your legs, “you dont know how many times i’ve dreamt of this. Seeing you like this, all hot and bothered under me.”

You couldn’t help but groan at his words, feeling the edge of his middle finger press against your hidden clit.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, already on the brim of feeling overwhelmed.

“Am I making you too hot baby,” he pouted, increasing the pressure on your soft spot, “you like how I talk dirty like that about you?”

“Mhm,” is all you could manage to stumble out. Your body began to squirm, making Hyunjin smile at you. His hand trailed on your folds, gently travelling back to your hem of what felt like suffocating clothing covering your heat. Muffling groans escaped your lips, frustrated at how slowly he took them off. The way his pupils dilated was like a kid in a candy store. Tucking his hair behind his ear, he inched closer, lips moments away from having him where you needed the most. You let your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the moment you had been waiting for. Confusion hit when you felt hands balancing on either side of you, soulful kisses trailing up the center of your body until you opened your eyes, seeing his regard fixated, looking down into yours. You felt like a feather, his body hovered over you as he leaned closer, finally connecting his lips to yours. It was sloppily, lips out of time and teeth clashing. Not the kiss you expected, but you couldn't complain. Hyunjin slipped his tongue into your mouth, tongues colliding as he erupted a delirious fire inside of you. Your bodies began to collide, passions electrifying, lighting up the room as his hands wrapped around your hips, thumb kneading at your bones as your hands dug into his neck. Things were going slow before, but there were no more concerns about the pace now. Hyunjin’s lips were always nice to look at, but the way they felt was a whole different story. The cloud-like texture of them was making your head move in nothing but circles. You were in heaven, already thinking about how they would feel against your skin in other places you had become desperate fir. Such thoughts were interrupted when you felt him leaving your lips, sucking hard on your bottom lip. His eyes lingered on you, chest heaving, breath heavy as he lifted you up, tossing your, compared to his, small frame. A look of innocence played on your feature as Hyunjin pinned both of your hands above your head. 

“Hyunjin what are you doi-”

“Shhh baby,” he hissed, crawling back to face level, tilting his head to reach your ear, “don't move okay, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he paused, pressing a kiss to your lobe, “just like the million times I imagined it.”

A satisfied whine left your lips as Hyunjin created a new trail, stopping at your neck. You wrapped a hand around his neck, wanting to push his lips into your skin more.

“Uh uh baby,” he chuckled, pinning your hands back to the ordered position, “be a good girl and keep them up there for me won't you?”

“Yes sir” you mumbled, a low hum of approval heard from him. He continued his savoury touches, harshly sucking on any skin above your chest that was left unmarked. His fervent touches were making you increase in sensitivity with each moment passing. A hand hooked around your back, effortlessly unclasping your bra and letting your breasts become exposed.

“Fuck,” he sighed, hunger increasing, “has anyone ever told you that you were made like a piece of fucking art?”

The compliment made you blush, hard. No one had ever said such complimentary things before.

“Uhm, no,” you whispered, scared that someone would hear you. Hyunjin frowned, eyes becoming hard as he looked up at you.

“No one’s ever told you that before,” he huffed, sticking his tongue out in front of your left nipple.

“No,” you inhaled, fear engaged as Hyunjin’s shift in demeanour appeared.

“That makes me so fucking mad,” he growled, attaching his lips to your nipple, “you’re the sexiest fucking girl ive ever seen y/n.” 

A choked whine left your lips at his words, and his tongue trapped around you, hands flicking the other.

“Fuck Hyunjin I-”

“Unfuckable,” he interjected, “how can you be when you fucking look like a piece of fucking art?”

He refused to rest. His fingers began to trail, teasingly grazing your sides as he let them travel, stopping right on top of where you wanted him the most.

“I had to add to the artwork that is you baby.”

He had now lowered himself back to his starting position. On his knees, lips in line with your pussy as he let a finger slips between your folds, your stomach jolting with electricity at the light, yet tantalising feeling he gave you.

“The marks all over your chest,” he puffed, almost like he was out of breath from just looking at you, “they are nothing but little flowers I added to a beautiful canvas.”

You could barely think about what he was saying as he pushed the finger into your entrance, a high pitched mewl coming from your chest as he began to pump.

“God Hyunjin-”

“Tell me princess,” he interrupted, adding another finger, “tell me all the dirty things you’ve wanted me to do to you.”

“Fuck,” you groaned. The cocky smirk on Hyunjin’s face, lips slightly agape,”there’s so many times when I have thought about you.”

“Tell me baby,” he groaned, letting his breath tickle the skin on your inner thigh.

“In the shower, on the kitchen bench, the couch in the living room. You doing me from behind, on top, letting me ride you,” you moaned, “but this, right now, this is my favorite.”

A grunt of thrill left his lips, an attempt and analysing the many thoughts you had about him made him feel completely justified. On the brink of pure anger, you thrusted forward, barely feeling the impact of his lips on your folds. 

“Shhh,” he whispered, curling his fingers, forcing you to lay still, “let me allow your fantasy to become a reality.”

A loud groan left your chest as Hyunjin finally allowed his tongue to plunge into you, harshly grazing your clit. The feeling made your body jolt, jaw fully lax as he your gave yourself to him. Hands running straight into his hair, you gasped, seeing him notice the way you constantly push the front strands his blonde locks behind his ears. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled against you, quickly sitting up, “this fucking hair is too long.”

Your legs shut, too weak to keep them open as Hyunjin frustratedly fisted his hair and teethed the string off his wrist, wrapping his hair into a high ponytail, front pieces gently left out, sprawling across his glistening face. As soon as he looked down, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Manhandling your delicate thighs, he bit down on his lips, aggressively spreading them open to regain his access to your sweet spot.

“Already so weak are we?”

You couldn’t help but feel humiliated as he kept his gaze on you, unforgivingly, letting his tongue rapidly circle around your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you managed to stagger out, another hum of approval entering your heat, vibrating and spreading to the rest of your body. God he was so good at this. Always making you feel good. Like you were the number one princess in the best castle. Even if it wasn’t sex, Hyunjin always found a way to make you feel better. But this. This was a whole new level of pleasure.

“Mhmm,” he grunted, replacing his tongue with a finger from his opposite hand, “how close are you baby?”

The clench around his fingers was enough, Hyunjin slightly amused. The combinations of the multitude of fingers and his extremely rough tongue on your clit was sending you to another dimension.

“Far out I knew I was good at this, but baby, you’re so easy to make cum.”

“N-no im not,” you whined, Hyunjin throwing his head pack in pure joy.

“It’s okay baby,” he cooed, picking up the pace of his fingers, “you don't have to put on a front for me.”

“Hyunjin c-cum,” you gasped, barely able to strangle anything out of your lips, “g-gon-na c-cum.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum for me baby?”

“Y-yeah I do.”

“Come on baby,” he growled, “cum for me like the good girl you are.”

His words couldn’t help but send you over the edge, strangled echoes of pleasure filling the room as he continued his pleasurable assault, loving the way your hips convulsed against his overstimulation.

“Fucking hell,” you cried, pushing his fingers out of you, “you made me cum so hard Hyunjin.”

He smiled, crawling back onto your bed, towering over you once more.

“There’s nothing else I want to do in this world apart from make you feel good baby.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning into his lips to taste your sweet filled juices glistening his chin. The kiss was gentle, soothing from the intense orgasm you had just come down from. He created another trail, tongue dragging across your neck and back down to your chest, pressing an arousing kiss in between your breasts.

“I can't help it,” he smirked, “I just want to wanna mark you all over, let Minho know that you’re mine.”

His words made you feel light headed. Mine? Usually something like that made you wanna throw up. But the way Hyunjin said it, with so much hunger and vice, it was like you became bound to him. Anything he wanted to do with you would be impossible to say no.

“Then f-fuck me,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

You slipped from underneath him, turning him around and pushing him onto the bed, hands firmly placed against his chest as you climbed on top of him. Hyunjin’s eyes became full. Full of fire, lust, hunger, anger. He played it cool at first, but now, now he was desperate. You let your hands now travel his body, one hand tracing the outline of his abs, the other behind you, palming his rapidly hardening cock.

“Fuck me like you own me, Like you want everyone to know I’m yours.”

The words were enough to send him into a craze. He quickly rid himself of the draw string, keeping a tight grip on his sweats, pushing down his pants to his knees. It came to your surprise when he had nothing else on, leaving him to follow your pursuit of complete nakedness. You lifted your hips off of his stomach, readjusting to let your clit sit on top of his pulsating cock that was lying flat against his stomach. A sharp inhale came from his chest, absolutely frothing at the way you rubbed your wetness against him.

“Fuck you’re so wet still,” Hyunjin chuckled, a deep grunt escaping leaving him.

“You like that?” You smirked, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Yeah baby,” he moaned, hands gripping your ass, giving you a soft blow. His hands were soft, icy, goosebumps becoming visible as you leaned back, gripping the base of his cock. the air was becoming desperate, and so were you. If you had a cent for every time you thought about this very moment, you’d be riding him in the royal palace.

A wave of goosebumps charged onto your skin as you lifted your hips. Hyunjin’s hands scattered over your ass, he helped guide you, excruciatingly slowly as your hand kept him still, allowing his cock to become buried inside of you. A groan of relief escaped each other’s lips as your walls became stretched, body feeling numb already. He was a big boy, causing your head to fall onto his chest. you needed time to adjust to the slight ache his length gave you, but you weren’t complaining. As soon as you bounced up and off of him, you felt as if your hole was whimpering, already desperate for him to be back inside of you. you continued with a light bounce, barely fitting any of him inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, tightening his grip on you, “go deeper.”

You did as you were told, increasing the intensity, sitting back up and letting your hips freely roll onto him. Your mouth became heavily agape, an open invitation for Hyunjin to shove his fingers inside. your eyes became closed, fingers wrapped around his wrist as you lapped his digits with thick saliva.  The way you effortlessly took his heavenly inked fingers made his head spin.

“you’re such a good girl,” he smirked in between throwing his head back, “i bet Minho would be fucking dying for this kinda treatment.”

The mention of his name was a slight bruise to your ego; nonetheless, it simultaneously gave you motivation, determination to prove what he had been missing out on this whole time. How he would dangle girls in front of your face at any moment. How he teased you to no end almost every single day. Everything was coming out, and it was completely out of your control.

“Far out Hyunjin,” you hissed, ripping his fingers from your mouth, “why are you so obsessed with Minho right now?”

“Because,” he grunted, wrapping his saturated fingers around your neck, “he fucking pissed me off last night, and this morning.”

The sudden connection in your brain became apparent. All thoughts leading to the possibility of Hyunjin punching him made you lose control. So much control that you couldn't recall hyunjin flipping your over, his figure menacingly towering over you as he began to thrust.

“I fuck you so much better than Minho could,” he grunted again, left thumb gently attacking your left nipple, “dont you think?”

You could barely respond. Nothing but a suffocating moan spilled from your throat as his grip on you became tighter. You were on the brink of actually losing your mind. The way Hyunjin filled you up was just, well, indescribable. He just continued, letting the now continuous beads of condensation from his forehead spread across your stomach. 

“Say it,” he growled, a slight punishment created at the way he left nothing but the tip of him inside of you, “tell me i'm better than him.”

“Fuck,” you whined, attempting to sink your hips further down his length. But hyunjin knew better; he was one step ahead. Your desperate, pathetic attempt of getting out of your retribution was nothing but a joke to him. 

Hyunjin scoffed, “I know you want me to fill you up again, but I need to know.” 

His voice was the deepest you had ever heard him speak. The hand that was previously wrapped around your neck had escaped, a tremble that was clear as crystal running down your torso at the feeling of the multitude of Hyunjin’s ice cold rings dragging across your skin.

“You-you’re better than h-him,” you stuttered, trying to gain your previously hindered consciousness from his strop grip, “better than Minho.”

The words alone made him groan. He sure did like to tease you, but even he couldn't keep it up. Your voice became electrifying in his mind, igniting him as rammed his cock back into you; no hesitation. His pace was unforgiving. The lewd sound of skin slapping filling the room at a sound that exceeded the maximum level of decibels an individual could take.

“That’s right I am,” hyunjin moaned, “that fucking piece of shit.”

Your head rolled from side to side, a hand violently gripping your bed sheet. Like your mind went numb, your senses could only follow. Nothing but the scent of Hyunjin’s heat occupying your nose, the sound of skin slapping filling your ears, and your vision hypnotised by the darkness that pooled behind his eyes.

“Mhm fucking hell baby,” you groaned, arching your back, “i can feel myself getting close.”

“Tell me baby,” he chucked, bringing his thumb dangerously close to your clit. You brought your fingertips high, gripping his wrist before he could make a decision that you know would make you fall off the edge and into the black hole that would be your orgasm.

“What is it baby,” he whined, tone laced with concern, “scared that you’re gonna cum already?”

“Yes,” you blurred out, “just a little longer please.”

“And why should i?”

All you could feel was your eyes locking shut, fingers spreading you open and touching any every sensitive skin he could get his hand on. He had transformed into satan. hard thrusts and a heavy hand; you could feel yourself clenching around him as he sadistically chuckled, satisfied by the pleasuring torturing spell he had you under.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, the sound of your voice tainted as your body lunges forward with each thrust, “i’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Hh come on baby,” Hyunjin grumbled, “just a little longer for me now why don’t you?”

“Just f-for you,” you giggled, noticing the way Hyunjin heart was practically about to leap out of his chest. He was working hard to make you feel good; even if you couldn’t tell from the shimmering black ink spread across his chest and down his torso. 

“Baby are you gonna cum?”

Your throat had become empty, completely forgetful of how to speak and use your words. The continuous and uncontrollable clenching was satisfactory enough to give him the answer he needed. 

“y/n, are you gonna cum with me?”

“Please,” you whined, “cum in me, I'm begging you.”

Your words were more than enough. You hummed in satisfaction as you felt yourself slip over, feeling the warmth of his liquid inside of you. His body collapsed, falling next to you as he watched you sit up, enjoying the views of his viscosity spill out of you. You let a finger fall down, picking it up and tasting him. His jaw dropped at what he thought to be such a ludicrous act.

“Wow,” you smirked, letting your tongue sloppily wrap around your finger, “you taste so good.”

Hyunjin threw his head back on your bed, ripping out his ponytail and running his hands through it.

“far out y/n, you don’t know how many times i’ve thought about you saying that to me.”

[ijustwant2write]

Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @everygif​)

Part 1

Masterlist

Prompt List

‘OMG! I loved Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader! I’ll love to see a part two where they go get the baby back! Hopefully if you have time, it was so cute‘

‘Grow Up Fast was so cute and amazing!! Part 2???‘

‘loved you’re recent Fred piece on the baby! just wondering if you could do another one along those lines but the reader is pregnant with twins and the whole family is finding it special obviously because Fred’s a twin, just something along those lines 💖‘

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (brother-in-law), Weasley family x Reader (in-laws)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Adoption, pregnancy symptoms/pregnancy talk (throwing up/check ups/scans/trimesters), lots and lots and lots of fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are we really doing this?” I excitedly breathed out, squeezing Fred’s hand.

He slightly nodded, looking apprehensive himself.“We really are.”

We were stood inside the orphanage, and this wasn’t our first time here. Ever since the baby had left our short care, something had felt off in our lives. In the beginning, we blamed it on the shock of it all; it’s not everyday that you find an abandoned baby behind your shop. Even George pointed this out, saying that our minds seemed to be elsewhere. So here we stood, waiting for the care worker to come back down the hall, but this time she wouldn’t be by herself.

I held back an excited giggle when she turned around the corner with the baby in a carrier. He was awake, kicking his legs about under his blanket, gurgling away as if he knew he was going to his forever home. I tried not to start crying, even though my emotions were all over the place, but it seemed that Fred was happy to let the tears fall. Smiling up at him, I quickly made him face me, giggling as I wiped away his tears. We didn’t exchange any words, but he nodded his at me as if I had asked if he was alright.

“Here he is, little Tommy.” the woman beamed, handing him over to us.

Fred held the carrier in both arms, and we cooed at Tommy. We had helped pick out a name for him when they couldn’t find any recent hospital records, they had no idea where he came from or who his mother was. And just like that, we were taking him home with us.

Once home, we found ourselves lying on the bed, with Tommy in the middle (just like we had the first time we brought him home), and just staring. We had fed him before, meaning he was now sleepy, slowly dozing off.

“What do we do know?” Fred whispered.

“I don’t know.” I honestly answered.“It feels so strange to have him home again, even after seeing him in the care home for so many months.”

“I wish we were there to see him properly grow, he’s so much bigger now.”

“Well he’s here now. And it’s almost his first birthday, we should start planning.”

Fred chuckled, eyes widening when Tommy stirred. Tommy opened his eyes, face scrunching up to cry when I pulled him closer, holding onto him. He calmed down, a few whimpers escaping him before he nodded off again. I glanced at Fred, who was already looking at me, sharing a smile. This was our life now.

A few more months passed, filled with getting used to being parents; the late nights, early mornings, dealing with the ear piercing cries and smelly nappies, but also the bursts of giggles, funny noises and cuddles. So many of our friends and family had come forward to help, giving advice and wanting to get to know the new member of the family. Molly had been extremely enthusiastic after finding out we planned to adopt Tommy. She had worried that there had been problems with us, that we weren’t able to have babies of our own, though even after reassurance, she was still excited. And she offered to babysit way too much (though sometimes that was used to our advantage). 

Now it was the day of Tommy’s first birthday. Since there were no hospital records to show his birth date, they had to give it their best guess. Nevertheless, Tommy was going to have a proper birthday. We had decorated the home, our presents were stacked next to the fireplace, the cake was displayed alongside the rest of the food, and I had picked out his outfit for the day, now all that was left to do was wait for the guests. 

“Wow, look at my handsome boys!” I exclaimed when I entered the living room, seeing Fred holding up Tommy to look at himself in the mirror. 

Fred gasped, turning around so that they were looking at me.“Tommy, look at mummy! Good thing she put in an effort too.”

I scoffed a laugh.“Is everything ready?”

“Yep. Guests should be arriving any minute.”

“Today is all about you Tommy.” I tickled his stomach, laughing with him as he squealed.

The party went amazingly. My family and Fred’s turned up at the same time, all loudly entering our home, gifts in hands, talking over one another. It was hard to take it all in, trying to answer all their questions as they passed me their coats and took off their shoes. Although all their excitement got the best of them, instantly going to greet Tommy and Fred, I didn’t mind, relishing the sight of our entire family together; it was the simple things in life that you could miss, and this was one of them. The day was filled with laughs, too much food and bad singing. There were also nudges towards Ron and Hermione, as well as Harry and Ginny about children, and poor George was being told to keep his search going for the right girl. Both grandmother’s wanted time with Tommy, but I knew he was going to become annoyed being passed around too much. Everyone was content watching him sit up by himself, cushions surrounding him in case he fell, playing with his toys.

Sitting back with Hermione, I found it hard to concentrate on her words. I suddenly felt tired, and also didn’t want to even think about the lunch I had served up. Trying to keep up with the conversation, I sipped at my water, feeling ill. Perhaps I was over tired from the late nights with Harry, we hadn’t had a gathering like this in a while, it was a lot to keep up with, especially when you were one of the hosts. I excused myself, quickly walking to the bathroom. Just as I was about to splash some water on my face, a horrible feeling rose in my throat, and I found myself bent over the toilet being sick. No, surely not, I couldn’t be could I?

Luckily I wasn’t throwing up for long, taking a moment to catch my breath, causing me to cough. Slowly standing, not feeling dizzy now, and quickly brushing my teeth as I flushed the toilet. Checking my reflection, I sighed when I saw how pale I had become. People would definitely notice, if not, then Fred certainly would. I had to act normal, be as bright and bubbly as I was ten minutes ago.

Upon my return, there was music playing, Ginny and Hermione swaying with Tommy on the floor whilst our parents conversed, and the lads talked about something unrelated to babies, families or weddings. Passing by them, I smiled, needing a glass of water. I realised Fred had followed me into the kitchen, sighing as I realised I would have to tell him.

“(Y/N), you don’t look well, are you OK?” Fred asked closely, his hands rubbing my arms up and down as he stood behind me. 

I nodded after taking a sip of water.“Yeah. I’m fine now.”

“What does that mean?”

I turned around to face him, leaning back against the counter.“I um...I was just sick in the toilet.”

“Should we take you to a doctor? Do you need healing? What are your symptoms?” he rushed.

“No, I’m fine really. Perhaps I ate something bad....or....”

“Or what?”

“Fred, your mum babysat for us a couple of weeks ago.”

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“We were alone, all day and all night...can you connect the dots?”

It took him a few more seconds before it clicked, and as his eyes widened, I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him from yelling.

“Yes, Fred, I might be pregnant.” I whispered.

“Uh, am I interrupting something here?” Ron said from the doorway, confused when he saw the position we were in.

“Uh, y-yes! Fred was about to yell about the cake, but...but we didn’t want Harry to hear and get too excited.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at us as he slowly stepped back.“OK. I mean, he’s only one, I’m sure he wouldn’t have realised.”

Removing my hand from Fred’s mouth, I let out a sigh of relief.“Look, we don’t know if that’s true yet, so for now, don’t even think about it.”

“But, if you are...” Fred trailed off, smiling to himself.

“Would...would you be alright with that?”

“Would you?”

We hadn’t come back to that conversation, instead trying to focus on the rest of the party. Because Tommy was easily tired out, they didn’t stay for much longer. At any other time, I would insist they stay, even after putting Tommy to bed. However, I wasn’t being a good host as I let them put on their shoes and coats, each waving goodbye to little Tommy. With the door closed, and just the three of us leftover, Fred and I flopped onto the sofa, letting Tommy roam and tire himself out.

“I’ll book an appointment for this week.” I mumbled, trying to not let my eyes droop.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fred said.

“I...I don’t know. It would be nice but George might get suspicious.”

“Would it be so bad if he found out? You know he would keep it a secret.”

“That’s true. Alright, come with me. Let’s find out together.”

And that’s what happened. Unfortunately it was almost another two weeks before I was able to be checked over; there had been a strange atmosphere as we waited, that’s all we were concentrating on. Tommy still received as much love as he usually did, but there were times where I would stress about the future. Tommy was just one, and if I was pregnant, there wasn’t going to be a big age gap between the children. That would be hard. They would be toddlers together, there would be screaming, crying, toilet training, the money for nappies, clothes, toys....but every time I found myself down that hole, Fred was there to pull me out, consoling me, assuring me we would be alright with one more child.

I had been bouncing Tommy on my lap as we waited for the doctor to see us. Fred had to take him away from me, worried that I would cause him to be sick, but it was a nervous tick. I was extremely grateful to have Fred with me, concentrating on his thumb running over the back of my hand, and the gentle kisses he would place on my forehead. But the appointment went by in a flash, and as we walked outside, I couldn’t help but squeal in excitement and shock, exclaiming loudly to everyone around me;

“WE’RE PREGNANT!”

George obviously had to know first, seeing as we took the day off work. But he was sworn to secrecy. We wanted to keep it under wraps for a while, waiting to see what my first trimester was like. The excitement was almost too much for me, I couldn’t stop picturing what it was going to be like for Tommy to have a sibling. Another person to add to our family, someone else to give our love to. Things were going well, of course there were the horrible symptoms, though I said to myself over and over again that this would be worth. The weeks whizzed by, and soon, I was starting to show, meaning Fred and I couldn’t stop rubbing the tiny bump. I had bawled when Tommy rested his head on it one night, as if he understood his brother or sister was in there.

We knew it would be impossible to keep it hidden anymore, and I seemed very healthy so far. We were also bursting to tell our friends and family, trying to think of ways to announce it. Fred suggested huge fireworks that wrote it out, but I knew that would be too much. Instead, he settled for a cake where the icing would start writing out the message ‘We’re Pregnant!’ when the candles were lit. Once again, the family found themselves squashed together, this time meeting at the Burrow. Tommy stood on Harry’s lap, clumsily using his face to balance himself as Fred and I caught everyone’s attention.

“We thought we would bring you all something special, a thank you for supporting us through the entire adoption process and for helping us get used to being parents.” I explained, pushing the cake into the centre of the table.

The candles had just been lit, and as everyone licked their lips at the sight of it, they realised what was happening. Screams, hollers and cheers erupted throughout the small room, causing me to burst into tears at the happiness. This was good, this was going to be an amazing chapter of my life.

My mother and molly would send me pregnancy books, recipes for meals that were good for the baby, or just natter on and on about advice, side effects, and what childbirth actually entailed. Sometimes it was a bit too much, I would wish they held some details back. The checkups were going well, Tommy’s behaviour was getting better as he grew, also Fred’s enthusiasm seemed to never die down. However, it had come to that certain appointment, the one some couples longed for. It was time to find out the gender of our child. The results we were given weren’t what we were expecting.

Stepping into the shop, I relaxed when I saw it wasn’t too busy. Fred was desperate to tell his brother the news. As he went to get him, I laughed at Tommy’s wide eyes, taking in all the colours and noises. Fred gestured for me to follow him into the stock room, getting their workers to take over the floor. As I stepped in, flashbacks to Tommy as a newborn came to me. How strange, it was almost like a full circle.

“So, what’s it gonna be then?” George grinned.

I giggled at Fred who was almost jumping up and down in excitement.“Go on then, I said you could tell him.”

“Well, Georgie, it’s a boy-”

He threw his arms up in the air.“Yes! I knew it!”

“And a girl.”

“Wait, what?” his arms slowly sank down.

“We’re having twins! There’s going to be another set of Weasley twins!”

George responded with a loud cheer, throwing himself onto his brother in an engulfing hug. They were patting each other on the back, at first jumping about before they calmed down, swaying side to side.

“Freddie, that’s amazing! (Y/N), you’re going to be massive!”

I scoffed a laugh, knowing he meant no harm.“Thank you very much George. You’ve already earned yourself a whole weekend of babysitting.”

“Have you told mum yet?”

“No,” Fred said,“you’re the first.”

“She’s going to go crazy.”

“So is mine.” I stated.

“Who would have thought, eh? Another set of twins?”

“I’m going to finally know what it was like to raise you two. Perhaps I should have a masterclass from your mum.”

“She’ll give you lots of tips, and stories about how much of a terror we were.”

“Great, looking forward to that.”

Leaving the shop, Fred took over carrying Tommy in one arm, his other hand holding mine. We dawdled on our way home, seeming to be in no rush as we took in what news we were given today.

I smiled as I placed a hand on my bump.“Fred?”

“Hm?” Tommy was already falling asleep on his shoulder.

“Are we really doing this?”

He smiled back.“We really are.”

[toastedclownery]

Hey so uh, I finally finished the bit I wanted to write based on this scene by @mintyfrosty!! I changed some things according to my version of them but it’s basically the same Gonna put in under a Read More. TW for anxiety attack and passing out of exhaustion ovo”

He looked at the board in front of him. Hours of work put into it, papers full of notes and reminders, calculations, timetables and floor plans.  And yet, he couldn't remember one thing he had written on it. He couldn't read, couldn't think clearly.

He had to get this heist right. Had to plan out every single detail, every possibility. That's what he was for. Think ahead, be prepared for anything that could go wrong, and create a way to avoid it. He was particularly good at that, it was easy for him to consider different scenarios where things could meet with disaster. However, it came at a cost.

Still staring at the bunch of papers pinned on his wall, he blinked slowly, unable to focus on anything. His mind was tired, and so was body, even if he himself didn't feel it. He took another sip of the cup of coffee he was holding, deciding to push his sleepiness away for one more night.

This one has to be perfect, they couldn't have any more mishaps. Terrence' last raid was the last straw. They had lost too many people to it. There had to be a stop to that de iure leader's wreckless nature. Reg thought if he proposed a calculated enough and totally safe plan, maybe the elites would listen to him. Maybe he could get a seat at their table. Maybe…

His head almost drooped and he quickly had to readjust himself, his eyes now wide open, heavy bags under them. His body was fighting against him. Why? He didn't feel tired. In fact, he wasn't feeling anything at all. He felt fine.

Rising his hand in order to reach for the cup again, he noticed the trembling waves inside the container. His hand was shaking. He frowned, shut his eyes in frustration and downed all the remaining coffee in one go. Two or three seconds later, he realized that might not have been the best idea.

No, it was okay. He didn't need to worry, he was fine. He looked at different points of the board rapidly, trying to take anything in. Nothing went through. His breathing became unsteady, and the corners of his vision were beginning to become blurry and dotted. 

It has to be perfect, he thought.

Realizing he was getting dizzy, he had to remind himself to breathe. He felt like he was choking. Why wasn't he getting any air?

We've lost too many people already, were the repeating thoughts drumming in his mind.

He was too out of it to notice his hand had given out, dropping the ceramic cup and letting it shatter. Startled by the loud noise, he tried taking a step back, only to notice his legs had turned wobbly, barely keeping him on his feet.

With one last glance at the board, all the papers were now a mess of smears and black spots. The room started tilting… and tilting… He was out before he even hit the floor.

Night patrol. It had to be night patrol. He would have preferred to have some rest tonight, but he had to be chosen for taking a walk around the base at ungodly hours of the night. He would have complained, but knew he couldn't speak against the Chief. He went along with it, knowing nobody else would do it anyway. Right thought Terrence usually cut the other elites too short, himself included. He felt like he could do more than just night patrol, but on second thought, he was the one that fit best for the job.

He was passing through the corridors, reaching a series of doors that led to the Toppat members' rooms. Unlike his fellow elite's bedrooms, these were smaller and had thinner walls. He remembered the time he had to sleep in one of those rooms. It was nearly impossible, any noise was able to get through those walls made of cardboard.

Just thinking about it made him tired. He was about to let out a yawn, but was stopped by a loud noise coming from one of the dorms ahead. It sounded like a glass-shattering noise, followed by a light thud. 

He saw a stream of light under one of the doors. Who in their right mind was still awake at this late hour of the night? He looked at the name on the door. "R. Copperbottom" It read. That name was familiar. He gave the door a couple of knocks.

"Oi, is everything alright in there?"

He waited about ten seconds, no response.

"Can I get in?" 

Again, silence. 

Right opened the door and stepped into the room. He didn't know what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn't a collapsed man in the middle of the floor. He cursed under his breath and went to check if he was okay. 

He gently turned him to face upward. He drew a few hairs back and was able to see his face. And then he recognized him. The smooth mane of hair that was usually collected in a ponytail was now a frizzy mess of ties and knots. There was also his familiar curled mustache, which seemed to get the same treatment, and a pair of dark circles around his eyes. 

He knew this one. He hadn’t spent that much time in the Clan, yet he had jumped up the ranks in no time. He ascended to his current position much faster than he had seen anyone do it in his time as an elite. There was a reason for that. The guy was a working machine. 

Ever since the day he was recruited, he would show interest in what the Clan’s next big heist was going to be. Even if he wasn’t part of it. Right had started to see his face more often around the higher positions. He shone with curiosity and initiative when robbery plans were finally handed to him for the first time, adding thousands of tweaks and details that would stun the field operatives. He would go on his way to arrange every minute of a heist, and then proceed to explain each new bit to his superiors. 

Needless to say they were surprised with this new guy appearing out of nowhere and before they knew it he was suddenly giving them lectures like a teacher rants to a bunch of toddlers. If he was met with any kind of criticism, he would come back the very next day with a new refined version of the plan. The team of elites were intrigued, they shared their recognition of his potential, whereas the Chief… Would usually butt heads with him. 

"I think you worry too much, pipsqueak" 

Right hated to agree on that, currently looking at said pipsqueak laying on the floor, most likely passed out from exhaustion. He doubted he got enough sleep when making all those schemes, and the scene before him proved his theory to be correct. 

He examined the room. Next to the unconscious prodigy were broken pieces of a ceramic mug. He must have dropped it before falling along with it. His hat was still on his head but tipped to the side. In front of them was a wide corkboard, filled with papers and post-its hung on it left, right and center. Right blinked twice before regaining his focus on the other man. 

"Hey, Reginald? Can you hear me?"

He shook him by the shoulders a little bit. Maybe he would be able to wake up momentarily so he could go to bed on his own. Seeing how that wasn't the case, he sighed, and decided to do it himself. 

He drew the bed sheets back, scooped him up carefully and held him in some kind of bridal style, his head resting on his shoulder. He was light as a feather, so he was pretty easy to carry around. The smallest yelp came out of Reg’s mouth at the feeling of being picked up, but he relaxed again when leaning on Right's chest. Right slowly put him down on the bed and tucked him in. 

It was weird, seeing him like this. The only times he would see him were quickly running through the corridors or giving his presentations on schemes. Always full of energy and enthusiasm. Right noticed a certain spark in his eyes when he talked. He noticed the way he would smile while telling his favorite parts of a plan. How he would sometimes motion rapidly while nervously rambling things under his breath. Now, he was laying limp on the bed, looking a mess, a strong fatigue visible on his features. Right chuckled. He would not want to be seen like this. Suddenly, he blinked, and found himself sitting on the side of the bed, hypnotized by the rhythmic breath of his sleep longer than he would have liked to admit. 

He shook his head and got up. He had completely forgotten about the ceramic shards still on the floor. He picked the broken pieces one by one. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be a lot of small bits, just five big shapes that fit neatly like a puzzle. He chose not to throw them away, thinking of putting them back together if possible. He grabbed the dark gray fedora that had rolled off his head and left it on the bedside table. 

He saw an alarm clock, set to chime three hours from now. He turned it off. There was no way he was gonna let him sleep so little. He would let him sleep in, have the day off. He could make up something not to make the others suspicious. He’d ask him about that jungle of papers another time. He needed rest now. 

He turned off the lights and shut the door, the pieces of the coffee cup still in his right hand.

[rosy-wooyoung]

It’s gonna be okay | p. sh

Pairing - boyfriend! Seonghwa x fem! reader Genre - mostly angst with a dash of fluff at the end, comforting Word count - 1.7k Warnings - stress, anxiety, [quite] dark thoughts, Seonghwa comforting the reader Songs I listened to while writing - worldstar money - joji / pluto projector - rex orange county / numb - xxxtentacion / slow dancing in the dark - joji

Leaning your forearms against the railing of your balcony, you watch the sunset as the wind softly blows your baby hairs away from your face. You deeply sigh, now feeling numb as you’ve cried for the past hours or so, you lost any notion of time. You were under a lot of stress and managing it wasn’t your strongest point. Heavy thoughts travelled in your brain, preventing you from relaxing and breathing properly. You pass your hands on your face, stopping in your hair as you contemplate your life choices and events. You shake your head in despair as your mind only brings up the negative points, tears welling in your eyes for the nth time tonight, almost surprising you that you still managed to cry with the number of tears that you’ve already shed since you came home. Closing your eyes, you breathe out and clench your jaw, trying to keep the tears in your eyes.

Nothing feels right. You are trying your best, yet you’re doing your worst job possible. You wish there were instructions on how to succeed in life and be happy, but it wouldn’t be so fun if everything were ruled and guided. You see your friends, relatives, siblings succeeding at life and you’re just here, stuck with your anxiety, struggles and worries. Everyone keeps telling you that everything will get better, but you’re starting to slowly lose hope. It feels like you’ve tried enough, you’ve given everything you had, yet nothing goes your way. And it’s still going now. Your mother keeps telling you over the phone that it’s faith, that you need to get through this to get stronger, and that everything will be okay, but you’ve stopped believing her a few months ago. 

You don’t even bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, letting the wind dry them. You are too tired to even do the simplest action ever; raising your hand and drag it on your face to wipe the salty water off your cold skin. You sigh another time, deeper and opened your eyes again, the sleepiness in your body making you slightly dizzy. You observe a black car driving in the underground garage of your building,  sirens resonated against the city’s buildings as you started to pick at your skin around your nails. This was a habit of yours when you were stressed and anxious, and, let’s be honest, your fingers have never been so damaged. Nails ruined, uneven, bloody skin surrounding them, small chunks of healing skin will be gone in a few seconds since another wave of stress was about to crash onto you.

Bringing a finger to your mouth to bite on the skin, a hand delicately wraps itself around your wrist, stopping you from doing any movement. The other arm rested on your waist, wrapping itself around it.

“Darling,” the low voice of your boyfriend resonates in your left ear. Turning around, you are met with concerned hazel eyes. Seonghwa drags the hoodie off your head, hair twirling around as he sets it free. His eyes landed into yours, as if they were trying to take the worries off your shoulders. You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as you look at him, finding a bit of solace and comfort in his presence.

He knows all about your stress. He tries his hardest to make you feel better, but even at times, his love and support aren’t powerful enough to help you think about something else. He doesn’t beat himself up because of it, he rather learns from it. He gives you space, welcomes you with open arms when you’re violently crying. He’s just here, being a rock for you when you need it. He has felt defeated a lot of times, but he remained strong for you. He knew that he is your anchor, you must not give up, and your boyfriend doesn’t want to let you down.

It’s something that never crossed his mind, not even once. Seonghwa wants to help you becoming happy again, he misses the genuine, innocent smiles you used to give him at the beginning of your relationship when everything was still going well. He takes your hand in his, - the one that is the most damaged -, and raises it to his mouth. His lips linger on the back of your hand, finally putting an end to the long kiss before looking back at you. You sigh and sniffle, pursing your lips to stifle another cry that hurt your chest.

“It’s okay to cry, Y/N, you know that you won’t get a reward for bottling all up,” Seonghwa slowly drags you to his chest, feeling his shirt getting wet as your tears kept falling from your eyes. “It’s okay to have darker days,” he whispers against your head as he softly soothes your back, bringing his hand up and down your spine. “But I’m tired of life!” you scream, but it is muffled by his chest, your body heaving up and down in his embrace, “I’m tired of living, of people telling me that it’s going to be alright, I’m tired of life throwing me obstacles and problems all the time, I wish I could get even a day of feeling great! I wish I could get better at everything,” your voice dies down as you end your sentence, your arms fall dangling, too weak to even do something. Seonghwa rubs your back soothingly, but it was to no avail, your cries wouldn’t die down.

"I know Y/N. I know your struggles, I see and hear about them. I wish I could do more about it, it hurts me to see you so much in pain, but I still love you. I know it might not help, but I’m staying by your side during those hard times and even after, we’re going to get through this together, I promise. You have my entire support. Even if it takes months, I won’t leave you all alone.” He takes a break from talking as your cries increase, your hands now fisting his brown t-shirt. “You’re not alone, I promise to help you as much as I can. It punches me in the heart whenever you’re in pain, I want to help you get better as quickly as possible. It’s hard to see you constantly suffering, but you only get stronger after all of this.” “Don’t you think I’ve endured enough? Don’t you think I’m tired of constantly living in pain, feeling like I’m getting dragged by life?” you whisper against his chest, feeling frustration building up in your heart. “Of course you are tired of this. You went through a lot but look at yourself, honey. You are much stronger than at the beginning of the year. You might not see it, but I do. You put up with a lot more than before, I promise that you are a lot tougher than before. Don’t lose hope, you’ve come already so far, you don’t want to give up now. You’re a strong girl, my strong girl, and we’re going to get you back onto your feet as quickly as possible, alright? Even if it takes time, I’ll help you,” you don’t say anything, so he caresses the back of your head and hums, as to ask you to confirm. You nod, but tears still roll down your cheeks, your eyes getting bloodier as you let your sadness invade your body.

“Promise that you won’t give up?” he asks, showing his pinkie to you. You weakly smile at the childish behaviour of your boyfriend but did it anyway. “As long as you stay by my side, I won’t give up,” you say as your voice come out groggily from crying, and Seonghwa leant in, delicately kissing you on the forehead. “I promise you that I won’t. Come on, let’s go inside now, it’s getting colder,” the sun had set a couple of minutes ago and the wind was getting stronger. You followed your boyfriend as he opened the glass sliding door to your living room. You welcome the warmth of the area with a sigh, sniffling as Seonghwa kept holding your hand. He draws you to the bathroom and opened the cabinet above the sink, grabbing a band-aids box. He gently smiles at you as he grabs the tube of antiseptic cream, dabbing some on your bloody fingers. You faintly grimace as it burns your cuts, making Seonghwa kiss your cheek before wiping the remaining of your tears away.

Once he finished wrapping every tip of your damaged fingers in bandages, he grabs your hand and strolls to your shared bedroom where he sits you on the bed before going to his wardrobe. He got out a pastel yellow hoodie, one of his item of clothing that you loved the most. He then walks back to you, unfolding it, sweetly ordering you to take off your sweater. After obeying, he passes his over your head, helping you stick your arms through the sleeves, dragging the fabric over your body. He sits on the bed with you, takes off his shirt and put on a pair of sweatpants before gesturing you to lay down, resting comfortably by your side.

“You need to rest now, tomorrow is another day, okay?” you nod and close your eyes, the laundry scent on your boyfriend’s hoodie already making you feel safe. Carefully, he wraps his arm over your waist and draws you to him, your face finding its spot back on his chest. You breathe in against his skin as you can catch the remaining of his perfume that he spritzed his shirt with this morning. “Thank you, Hwa,” you mumble, and his hand goes to your hair, fingers carding through a few wild strands as you can hear him softly chuckle. “It’s alright princess, you don’t have to thank me for any of this,” he murmurs and kisses your temple, keeping on massaging your scalp. He barely even has time to wish you goodnight that you cuddle further into his chest, the action in your hair and his body warmth bringing you enough peace to fall asleep in his arms, forgetting your worries for a few hours. Seonghwa slightly chuckles as he suddenly hears your regular breathing patterns, your exhaustion finally took over you, his hand soothingly working at the shallow end of your back. “Everything will get better, I promise.” He whispers, looking at you sleeping for a few seconds before closing his eyes, falling asleep in no time as well.

[apocalypseornaw]

Any Time

For *hurt/comfort* square on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Warnings: Cursing and mention of blood/injuries

It was normal for you to drop by Bobby’s after a hunt. His place was the closest thing to home you knew, same as with Sam and Dean so when your car pulled up and parked next to the impala neither of the three batted an eye. After a few minutes passed and you hadn’t gotten out the car Dean started to get worried so he stood up from where he’d been sitting across the desk from Bobby “I’m gonna go check on her”  

Dean walked out the door and started to call your name until he realized you were in fact slumped over in the seat “BOBBY, SAM SHE’S HURT!” he hollered jumping off the doorstep to run to your car. When he snatched open the driver’s side door he was met with the sight of you soaked down in blood. He wasn’t sure if it all was yours but he hoped at least some of it belonged to something else. How you’d ever even made it to Bobby’s was beyond him.

Bobby and Sam had made it outside by the time Dean had eased you out the car and into his arms. A small part of his mind had been worried that maybe you were gone until a groan fell from your lips. “Easy sweetheart, I got ya” he assured you, meeting Bobby’s eyes over your still form. “Get her inside, I’ll call someone I know to come give us a hand”

------

Leave it to Bobby to have a literal surgeon on speed dial who’d be willing to make house calls. Dean and Sam spent the next hour pacing the floor in front of Bobby’s bedroom where you were being put back together. When the door finally opened they both stopped fast enough they nearly collided. “She had no major damage, the severity of the blood loss was from the contusion to her head and the superficial wounds she suffered. She needs to rest for the next week or so. Keep her hydrated and makes sure she takes her antibiotics Bobby”  

Bobby thanked the surgeon then reiterated to the boys just how many stitches you had. “Looks like she ended up tangling with more than one vamp. She’s lucky considering.. that girl’s one hell of a fighter” Dean let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since the moment he saw you slumped across your car’s front seat “But she’ll be ok right?” “Yeah, it’s a damn good thing she was able to get here or she may have bled out”

------

You could over vaguely remember making it to Bobby’s. The nest had been slightly bigger than you expected and even though you’d come out on the winning side they hadn’t gone down without a fight. Somewhere along the third set of stitches you’d woke up to Bobby and some guy you didn’t know working to stop the bleeding. From the looks of the set up the guy had to be something in the medical field because you even had blood running into your veins to replace what you lost. When he realized you were awake Bobby quickly moved up to your head “Hey kid, how ya feeling?” “Like I got hit by a truck” you slurred and he glanced back at the doc who nodded “I gave her something so she wouldn’t feel the stitches and staples. She’ll be groggy”

Bobby turned back to you as you gave him a drunken smile “I’m gonna go to sleep Bobby..shh though not dead just sleepy” then closed your eyes. When you fell asleep Bobby moved back to help finish closing your wounds then once the doctor was done he placed a quilt over you considering your shirt had been in tatters they’d had to go ahead and cut it off so he’d helped the doctor drape one of his button up shirts around you but the bandages covered anything. 

He hated seeing any hunter hurt but when it came to you, Sam and Dean it was even worse. After you were completely patched he walked the doctor out then came back in to find Sam and Dean sitting on either side of the door out in the hall. “Ya idjits know you can go in right? I mean she’s out like a light but you can walk in and check on her” Dean was the first to his feet stopping just long enough to help Sam up before walking in to check on you.

------

When you woke up again you weren’t sure how long had passed but the moon was shining in the window across the room so you knew at least a few hours had passed. Your head felt like you’d drank an entire bottle of whiskey and you wondered just what the hell that doctor had given you. You started to push yourself into a seated position but groaned at the feeling and the moment the noise left your mouth you heard footsteps in the hallway right before the door opened to show Dean. “You’re awake” he said and you nodded because that was the only movement that didn’t hurt “Indeed I am. Help me sit up?” he quickly moved to your side letting you brace against his arm as you pushed up against the headboard. Once you were sitting up you realized you were in a sports bra and an unbuttoned shirt. You looked down to see bandages covering your entire abdomen “Fuck did they use me as a chew toy?” 

He chuckled following your line of sight and you saw a dark look pass across his eyes “You scared the hell out of me Y/N” you glanced up at him curiously so he explained “I got out to the car first and honestly? I thought you were dead” “I’m sorry Dean” you weren’t sure why you were apologizing but the thought of Dean thinking he’d lost yet another person hurt you. He shook his head “You’re still alive, that’s what matters” you yawned and glanced at the window “How long have I been out?” “Long enough that Bobby and Sam both passed out” you grimaced at the thought of worrying them “I do have a way of making an entrance don’t I?” 

He laughed at that “Want something to drink or eat? Doc said you needed to stay hydrated” you licked your lips realizing just how dry your mouth was “Some water would be good” he motioned to the door “I’ll be right back”

------

Once he walked out you decided to see just how much standing up would hurt so you swung your legs over the side of the bed and slowly got up on your feet which proved to be a bad idea. A wave of dizziness hit you so you held onto the wall until it passed.

You slowly walked over to the window and sat down on the chest right next it. It hurt like a bitch but you’d had worse. Dean walked back in with a glass of water in hand then when he realized you moved he groaned “You do know you’ve got over thirty stitches and just as many staples in different body parts?” he came over to sit next to you and held the glass out. You took it with a slight grimace “You do realize we’ve all had worse than this” he shook his head then turned to watch you drink for a moment before he finally said “Me and Sam were thinking about sticking around here for the next couple weeks. Hunting’s slow at the moment and from the looks of it Bobby is going to need help wrangling you until you’re healed up” You raised your eyebrows with a grin “Oh you think you can wrangle me Winchester?” he shrugged “I’ll try” “What if I want you to wear a nurse uniform?” you teased but he quickly replied “I have no issue with roleplay” you laughed and had to hold a hand to your side against the pull that caused “What if I just asked you to sit up here with me since I’ve been unconscious half the day and don’t feel like sleeping?” “I think I can manage that too sweetheart” he said putting an arm around you so you leaned into his chest “Thanks Dean” “Anytime” 

@girl-next-door-writes

[crowsnests]

taste of certainty - part four

Fandom: The Arcana  Pairing: Julian Devorak x OC Apprentice (Syran Elkas) Tags: friends to lovers; modern times au; friend group dynamic; slow burn; pining; really just Julian being Julian and Syran being Oblivious Words: 8280 Warnings: mention of anxiety, migraines, insomnia, alcohol

part 1 2 3 4 5

playlist

Believing in something more than just the surface I trust that this is worth it, But my toes are hanging off the ledge

-trust, half-alive

IV. heavy storm

Everything hurts and everything seems blurry. Syran feels like she’s floating, her feet not touching the ground. She hears a mix of sounds, the clanking of metal, a voice urgently talking to someone, the shutting of a door. Something is tickling her face. She groans and opens her eyes, light disorienting her.

“Syran! Oh, god–”

She looks up towards the hurried voice and, finally, things come into focus. Ilya’s face looms above her, eyes so big and worried that she fears they might fall out of his skull. Everything is spinning. There’s someone else calling from– the floor?

“–lo? Ilya, is everything okay?”

“Just a second!” He yells at the floor, then starts moving. And Syran moves with him.

Oh, okay. He is carrying her.

He lays her down on something soft and Syran finally takes in her surroundings. She tries to sit up, but Ilya’s hand pushes her back. “Ah, ah, ah, no– stay down, okay?”

Another fit of pain to her head, Syran winces.

“Take deep breaths, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Whether Ilya is saying that to reassure her or himself, Syran doesn’t know.

“I’m going to grab my phone real quick, yeah? I’ll be back in a split second, please don’t get up.”

Syran vaguely nods and Ilya gets out of her vision. She recognises the ceiling of her apartment– how did she get here?

It slowly comes back together: the stars, Ilya, the walk, the migraine, Ilya, the person hitting her, her losing balance. Ilya. The pain in her head, a million times worse.

Ilya returns, kneeling by the couch. This time he’s got his phone lodged between his ear and shoulder, and some cloth in hand.

“Yeah, Nadia, we’re here– she’s awake–” he reaches the fabric to Syran’s forehead and she shies away at the contact. “It’s just water, don’t you worry, yeah? We’ll fix this, it’s nothing big.” Ilya reassures Syran, as the voice from the phone keeps talking underneath. “I’ll call you later, okay? Y–yes, I’ll take care of her– I’ve got a fucking medical degree, Nadia!” He hangs up, then reaches the newly free hand to cup Syran’s face.

“Can you talk?” he asks, voice now hushed, just for her.

“Y– yeah–” Syran mutters. “I think– so.”

Ilya smiles a little, relieved. “Good– that’s good.” He sighs, then looks around the room. “Do you have a first aid kit? A medical cabinet?”

Syran nods a little. Her head is about to blow up, she’s sure. “Bathroom– under the sink.”

“Okay, can you hold this here? Apply some pressure?”

Syran realises he’s still holding the cloth to her forehead, and she figures that’s why she felt something down her face. She’s bleeding. She tries not to let anxiety get the best of her and reaches up to do as told. Ilya covers her hand, fingers cool to the touch, and presses gently.

“Good, like this. I’ll be right back.”

Ilya takes care of her with delicate hands and gentle whispers, cleans her wound and bandages it, brings her water, holds some ice to her head. He reassures her all the way through, makes sure she’s okay until the end– until her head stops spinning and the pain calms down enough for her to slowly sit up.

He’s still crouched by the sofa, wide eyes looking up at her, his hands on her waist. Had she not felt like this, Syran would have overthought that touch, that contact– her heart would have made somersaults.

But right now, she can only think of one thing– sleep.

“How do you feel?” Ilya asks.

Syran huffs a laugh, “Like I hit my head.”

Ilya smirks, although worry doesn’t leave his face. “Well, yeah. But I told you before, you’ve got a strong skull there. You won’t need any stitches.”

Syran laughs a little again, reaches a hand up to where she feels the stinging pain, finding some gauze wrapped around her head instead.

“I wouldn’t touch that,” Ilya gently pulls her hand away, but doesn’t let go.

“You might have a concussion. Think you can stay up for a bit?”

“Uh– I guess.” She wants to sleep, really, but she should trust Ilya more than herself when it comes to medical advice. “What happened? There was a guy–“

“He was running and bumped into you, you hit your head on the concrete. I tried to call after him, but he was faster– I thought it better to stay with you.”

“Well, here ends my wrestling career.” She mutters, pain still making her feel dizzy.

Ilya chuckles, then gets up, sits next to her.

“I don’t want to scare you, but if you still feel bad in a bit I think we should go to the hospital.”

“Are you sure? I’m– I’m not that bad.”

“You hit your head pretty hard, Syran.”

His voice is soft, but serious. He sounds genuinely concerned, it warms her heart.

“Fuck– I have work to do tomorrow.”

“On a saturday?”

“Yeah– I can’t miss it. I need to go to bed.” She tries to get up but Ilya’s hands softly pull her from the waist and make so that she sits back down.

“No, no, no, missy, not until we’re sure you’re okay. Feeling sleepy is part of the symptoms.”

She feels frustrated. She enjoys his company, but– her bed calls.

“Ilya,” She whines. “I’m tireeed.”

“I know, but if your concussion is bad I’m not letting you hurt yourself more. How about we watch something? And drink some water.”

She pouts at him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Aight.” She resigns.

“Good, I’ll go get you water– don’t get up!”

“Yessir!” She mocks him, but it just makes him laugh.

A glass of water and an episode of The Bake Off later, Syran feels much better. Ilya made her take some painkillers too, which helped with the throbbing in her head. He sits close to her and has been asking her how she feels every now and then.

“I’m fine, Ilya. Much better, I swear.”

“Okay, okay– you sure? You don’t wanna go to the hospital? No more dizziness? Nausea?”

“No, doctor. Just the pain in the temple.”

“Good, okay– I mean, bad, I wish you weren’t hurting, but it’s good all the other stuff is gone.”

“No hospital, then?” She asks as the credits roll.

He sighs. “I’d still take you but if you’re sure you’re okay, then- some rest should do the trick.”

“Nice. Good.”

“So, ready for bed?” He asks, nonchalantly.

“I–uh–” for a second, Syran gapes at the various implications of his words. But then again, that is a perfectly normal question, given the situation. “Yeah– I need my pillows.”

Ilya lets out a small laugh, “That you do.”

He helps her get up and to her room. When they reach the door, he seems to hesitate.

Syran turns to him, small smile on her lips. “I’ll change myself, don’t you worry, Doctor.”

“I– uh– no- I was more thinking that you shouldn’t move your head much right now,” Ilya mumbles, clearly flustered.

“Can I at least wear pajama bottoms? Sleeping in jeans is a sin.”

That makes Ilya laugh and he finally lets her go. “Be careful, though.”

“Yep, yep,” Syran waves him off, closing the door behind her.

“I’ll– uh– I’ll wait here!” He exclaims from behind the door.

Syran slowly undresses, careful to her head, gently putting on her nightwear– really just some sweatpants and a hoodie. She looks at herself in the mirror: the smudged make-up, the faded lipstick, the bandages, bits of blood still sticking on her hair, the look of utter pain lingering on her face.

Well, she can’t look worse than this.

When she opens the door again, Ilya is pacing back and forth, typing aggressively on his phone.

“All done,” Syran says. Ilya’s head shoots up.

“Right, well, good, that’s good,” He takes her in, then his features soften. “You should rest now, really.”

“I guess so,” she smiles, then winces a little at another fit of pain.

Ilya immediately reaches for her. “Does it hurt again? Should I help you lay down?”

She nods and lets him help her to bed; he carefully props up a pillow for her and tucks her in under the duvet. It’s sweet, really. Syran’s heart is fluttering a little, under all the pain.

Then, a little meow fills the silence, paws pressing up into her side.

Amongst all this chaos, she had forgotten about Persephone.

“Ah, yes, it– it wouldn’t leave your side before either,” Ilya smiles at the cat. “What’s its name?”

“Persephone,” Syran reaches to pet her. The cat leans into her hand softly.

“She’s a good cat,” Ilya says.

“Yeah, can’t believe you never met her before,” Syran then moves her head slightly, looks at her nightstand. “Hey, can you– can you pass me that little plastic bag? It’s got makeup wipes in it.”

“Oh, sure–” Ilya does as told and passes her a wipe directly, then Syran slowly cleans her face off.

“I’ll get you some more water, okay?” Ilya asks, but before she can reply he’s already out the door. Syran finishes removing her makeup as best as she can, arm plopping down as soon as she’s done. She sighs, hoping for the throbbing in her head to subside soon.

Ilya comes back with water and some more pain relievers, she gulps the water down, then goes to clean her face some more. When she’s done Ilya looks at her and chuckles a little.

“What?”

“You’ve got– uh– some–uh, erm, can I?” He reaches for the wipe, still in Syran’s hand. She lets him take it. “You’ve got black smudged on your cheek”, he smiles fondly and leans down to wipe her face, hands ever so gentle.

Syran can’t help but be aware of his closeness this time. She looks at his profile, sharp and clean, his grey eyes focused on the task, hair falling down his face.

When he’s done, their eyes meet and Syran’s heart is in her throat. They’ve never been close like this.

She can see Ilya swallow, his hand still kind of hovering near her lips. Then, as if waking from a dream, he shoots back up.

“Well– I’ll– I’ll let you sleep then. Let me– let me know if you need anything. The pills will help with the pain when you wake up.” He clears his throat and turns to Persephone, pointing a finger at her, brow furrowed. “You keep guard, ‘kay?”

“She will,” Syran says, faint smile on her lips. Suddenly, exhaustion starts to take over her, as her body catches up to all the night’s efforts.

“Ilya?” She calls, as he walks towards her bedroom door.

“Mh?” He turns to her.

“Thank you– Uh. You’re– you’re really kind.”

Ilya smiles, “Just doing my job.”

Syran drifts off to sleep just as Ilya closes the bedroom door behind him, Perspephone purring beside her.

🂱

It’s still dark outside when Syran wakes up.

She slowly sits up, careful to the pain in her head. It makes her wince a little, but it’s not as bad as before. She looks around her room, soft moonlight peeking through the window, Persephone curled up and sleeping beside her.

Syran reaches for the water on her nightstand, notices the dirty makeup wipe next to it. She can’t help but smile. Stars know what would have happened to her if Ilya hadn’t helped her.

When she’s done with the water, though, she realises she’s still thirsty. Slowly, she pads out of bed, taking her time to do every little movement. Persephone looks up at her after a big yawn.

“I’m just getting water, I promise,” Syran says.

Persephone doesn’t move, but carefully follows her with her eyes as Syran exits her room.

She makes her way to the kitchen, doesn’t turn on any light– luckily the ones from outside are outlining enough of the apartment for her. A chill runs down her spine; the temperature is much colder.

She chugs down the second glass of water, then starts walking back to her room.

Just then, she hears it– a soft murmur. Someone almost– whining?

She turns to her right, where her couch is. A figure is laying on it, arm hanging from one side–

Fuck.

Ilya is still here.

She slowly makes her way to the front of the couch, notices how Ilya barely fits on the length of it, his feet hanging over the armrest. His boots are hastily thrown on the floor and his coat is loosely draped over him. His phone is on the floor too, next to his dangling hand.

His face is all scrunched up on one of the couch pillows, and now Syran is sure, he’s talking in his sleep. Not concrete enough words to make sense, just a murmur here and then. She doesn’t know what to do.

She wonders what in fresh hell made him decide to stay like this and not go home, but a voice deep at the back of her brain tells her she knows why. He clearly cares about her and wanted to make sure she’s okay.

Syran wants to half smack him, half hug him. She sighs.

She’s got a few throw blankets in her bedroom, so she quickly goes back, under Perspehone’s curious stare, and brings them to the living area.

Careful not to wake him up, she removes Ilya’s coat and drapes one of the blankets over him. His breath hitches at one point, which makes Syran freeze, but he doesn’t wake up. She slowly puts another one over him, making sure it covers enough for him to keep warm.

“–mail. Snail? Lovely– leaf eye.”

Syran stifles a chuckle at the weird mix of words coming out of Ilya’s mouth. Before she knows it, she reaches out to move some hair out of his face.

Then, he starts talking again and Syran immediately shoots away, startled. The hell was she thinking?

With the sudden movement, though, her head spins for a second, and she stumbles back. The back of her knee hits the coffee table, making the potted plants on it rattle. She almost falls on it, but she grabs ahold of herself.

“Shit–” She whispers, hand to her temple.

“—yran?”

She turns back towards Ilya, who’s looking up at her with half-lidded eyes. She crouches down to him.

“Hey– hey, Ilya, sorry– I–”

“‘re you okay?” He slurs, clearly still half asleep.

“Yes, yes I– I didn’t mean to wake you up,” She sighs, “You didn’t have to stay.”

He reaches for her cheek with his free hand. “I wanted to– you’re– I'm glad you’re safe.”

At this point Syran doesn’t know if the blood in her body spikes up because of everything that’s happening or because of how calmly Ilya does and says certain things, making her stomach turn upside down.

“I’m– I’m glad you were here to help–” She murmurs, reaching up to cup his hand.

Sleep is clearly heavy on both of them, Ilya’s lids barely holding open.

“ ‘nytime.” He smiles sweetly, as his eyes close again. “Anytime, for you.”

His hand slowly drifts back down, and Syran holds it all the way through. She doesn’t want to let go– it’s something like four in the morning and she hates to admit this to herself, but she wonders how it would feel to lay to sleep with him. How it would be to hold him through the night.

With a shake of her head, she carefully gets up, getting back to her bedroom.

It’s all in her mind. There’s nothing going on, right?

Right?

🂱

The next time Syran wakes up, is to her phone alarm. She groans and shuts it off immediately, checking the time.

7:30 am. Ugh. She’s got work.

There’s a few messages on her phone– more than a few, actually.

It all comes back to her.

All of her friends have contacted her, from Muriel to Nadia, all of them wishing her well, asking to call when she awakes, reassuring her. As she’s reading through them, a call from Asra sets the phone off.

“Mhmh?” she croaks.

“Oh god– oh god, you’re awake. Are you okay? Ilya isn’t picking up–” Asra sounds extremely worried, but there’s also relief in his words.

“I’m okay, hey, Asra– I’m fine,” Syran tries to sound as calm as possible. “I promise.”

“Right, yes, good.” He exhales, “Syran, I’m– I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my fault– if I hadn’t left you alone like that–”

“Hey, no, stop right there,” Syran reprimands him. “You have nothing to do with this. It could have happened anytime. And I wasn’t alone. It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare say that again, okay?”

Asra takes a pause, but when he speaks again he sounds more relieved, “Okay– okay.”

“How are you, anyway? With the whole– Valer–”

“I didn’t call to talk about me, S,” Asra counters. “I’m fine. We’ll talk about it when you’re better, all that matters now is that you’re okay.”

Syran can’t help but smile at his concern, “Understood. But really, I’m okay. Just a little scrape.”

“Ilya said it was a concussion–”

“Yeah, well– I guess. But I’m much better now.” She’s not lying, really. Things are not as fuzzy as last night, and definitely not as painful.

“He helped you, right? He took good care of you?” Asra sounds threatening, like the thought of Ilya not helping would be enough for Asra to send him to the gallows.

A flash of memories floods her again; the way Ilya handled things, how he reassured her, fixed everything. Made it better. The way he held her hands and cupped her cheek, tended to her with the utmost care. Her face grows warm for the millionth time this week.

“Yes, he–” she clears her throat. “He did. He was very kind.”

“Good, he better have been,” She can hear Asra relax again. “Is he there, still? He hasn’t come home.”

“Yeah, he’s– he’s here. I think.”

“You think?” Asra’s tone is edging on playful and she really doesn’t have the will to argue with him right now. “Or you know?”

She sighs. “Asra. He slept on the couch, last time I checked. Maybe he’s left, I don’t know.”

“Aw, he stayed to look over you, that’s cute.” Then his tone changes again. “And honestly if he hadn’t I would have killed him.”

“Stars, it was a small accident, not a car crash! I’m fine, Asra, seriously.”

“Okay, okay. I should get ready for work, I’ll come over later, okay?”

“Uh– no, I’ll see you there–”

“Don’t you dare show up to the office. Muriel’s calling there as we speak. You’re off for the day, please rest.”

Something in his voice tells her she’s better off not retaliating. “All right, all right, jeez.”

“Good. Now go check on your charming doctor, he’s probably going to eat his own hands in worry until he sees you stand up.”

“Shut up–”

“Toodles!” Asra hangs up before Syran can insult him. She shakes her head with a smile.

Persephone prances up in her lap.

“Good morning, cutie,” Syran grins at her.

Then, a gentle knock on the door.

“Uh– Syran? You awake? I– I heard you speak–” Ilya’s voice sounds hesitant.

“Yep, you can come in!” She says, letting Persephone go to slowly sit on the side of the bed.

“Oh– okay.” Ilya gingerly pokes his head into the bedroom, eyes quickly finding hers.

She smiles at him, “Goodmorning.”

“Goodmorning– I– uh– just wanted to check on you one last time.”

“You can enter, you know?” She laughs, then pats the spot beside her. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“Ha– right. Yeah. Sure.” His voice still sounds groggy, a little huskier than usual. Syran tries not to think about that.

When he sits down next to her, Persephone is quick to come around him and prance in his lap, meowing up at him.

“Ah, my assistant,” he smiles as he scratches her behind the ears.

“She was excellent,” Syran laughs.

“Good,” Ilya looks up at her, eyes soft. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Better.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Really, Ilya. I probably would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t been there to help. I’m good.”

Ilya gapes at her for a second, then turns back to pet Persephone. She notices his ears are red, but she turns back towards her window, sunlight streaming through.

“I barely did anything, but– I'm glad,” he says. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Syran thinks back at their small exchange in the middle of the night. Does he not remember?

“Ah and– thank you for the blankets. You didn’t have to. I assume you put them?”

“No, that was the house ghost, actually.” She teases him, bumping his shoulder. “And you didn’t have to either. Stay, I mean. You should have gone home and gotten proper sleep.”

He looks up at her, something akin to shock in his eyes. “I couldn’t have, I wouldn't– I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. I hope it didn’t bother you. That I stayed.”

“It didn’t,” she sighs, “I’m just sorry you went through all the trouble.”

“Syran, no–” Ilya scowls at her, “It was no trouble. At all. And not your fault either, that’s on the asshole that pushed you.” He looks genuinely angry at the thought. “I wanted to– I want to be there for you.”

Syran’s breath hitches, she doesn’t know what to say, not when he’s looking at her like that.

So, she just nods, tries to utter a thank you.

“And hey–” he adds, smirking. “I’m pretty sure your couch is more comfortable than my own bed.”

“That’s why we got it,” she laughs. “Want some coffee?”

Syran insists she make him some breakfast, too, before he leaves. It’s the least she could do, after all that.

It’s a little weird and a little natural, the way they casually chat, the way Ilya reaches for the mugs on the top shelf, the way he helps her anyway, because she’s still his patient, after all. It’s oddly domestic, surprisingly peaceful, it feels right, how easily they work together.

It’s confusing yet simple at the same time.

Ilya shows her how to clean her wound and gives her advice even as she ushers him out the door; Syran all smiles and promises, Ilya all apprehensive and considerate.

When Syran finally takes a shower – careful, careful to the wound, careful to the movements, just like Ilya told her– all she can do is smile. It might seem a bit jarring, considering the circumstances, but. She got to see a side of Ilya that she never thought much about.

Sure, she knew he was caring, she knew he put effort into his profession and studies, she knew he was thoughtful. She’s always been able to see that, through the deflecting humour and the charming grins.

Still, seeing him so– gentle, so attentive, so concerned for her wellbeing was– something else.

And then seeing him laugh, and pad behind her to help her in the kitchen, still throwing a careful eye to her every now and then; seeing him beside her like that. It made her realise how even before that, before all of the pain, she has always admired his resolve to stand up for his friends, to protect those he loves.

Seeing him look at her with a whirlwind of emotion passing through his eyes, just as that same whirlwind passed in her chest–

Syran doesn’t want to give into it, but she feels like she might not be imagining things after all.

🂱

It takes a few days, but Syran’s pain gets better. The wound on her temple is still there, but it’s healing pretty quickly now, which calms her down a lot. She ices it every now and then, and the days of rest she gets off work really help.

Things haven’t slowed down though. When she gets back, although her friends do ask her about her wellbeing, things get hectic quite quickly.

Syran tries to take a few more breaks when she’s allowed, which helps, but really it’s like there’s not enough time to get everything ready. So, today, she ends up working overtime.

The lights in the office have dimmed, last rays of sunshine peeking through the big window. There are not many people left with her, only Varya and two other of her colleagues. After a while, Varya walks up to her as Syran is checking for the umpteenth time that the graphics for the new packaging are correct.

“Hey, we’re about to go get some drinks, do you want to come? You’ve been doing a lot today.” Varya smiles kindly and Syran ponders on her offer. She is a little hungry and her headache has slowly increased in the past hour.

“I don’t know, honestly–” She frowns. “I think I’ll just be knocked out after all this. I’ll let you know if I change my mind, though? Thank you for telling me.” She smiles, genuinely appreciating Varya’s offer.

“Sure, text me when you get home, though. Don’t stay too late!” Varya preaches teasingly, then pats her on the back and walks out of the office, the sound of her heeled boots fading along the corridor.

When she’s left alone in the room, Syran realises just how tense her shoulders are, how much she’s slouching forward towards the computer screen, how her eyes are strained and dry. Even her scar is making itself heard, slightly throbbing in pain.

Syran sighs, trying to relax back into her chair. She looks up at the ceiling and takes a few deep breaths, trying to let out a little bit of her anxiety. It’s been a while since she excessively struggled with it, but days like this are not easy on her. She really wants to do a good job and now that she is in charge of a lot of things the responsibilities heavily weigh down on her.

She slows her breathing, notices that her hands are shaking a little, so she closes her eyes and tries to focus only on the rise and fall of her stomach. Slowly but surely, it calms her down. When she opens her eyes the air doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

Just then, her phone vibrates with a call.

The screen reads Ilya’s name and her chest is back to feeling anxious. But this time it’s a little different. Not as stressful, but surprised, rather. Almost– excited.

“Hey,” she breathes out. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Ilya replies, “Just. Uh– I wanted to check up on you. How’s your wound feeling?”

Syran can’t help but feel touched by his words. He’s been sending her texts now and then the past few days, even if just to remind her to take it easy, or to clean the wound at the end of the day, or to share some funny thing that happened to him. Syran soon realised just how much they helped her and how much she started looking forward to them.

“Better,” She twirls in her chair. “Honestly, the headache hurts more.”

Ilya clicks his tongue, “You really should get those checked out. You get them way too often.” He sounds positively concerned, if not a little frustrated, even.

Syran chuckles, endeared by his tone. “It’s okay, doctor. I’ve had these for a while now, I know how to deal with them.”

Ilya’s tone doesn’t change. “Still, recurring migraines are not to be taken lightly. They can really be debilitating, I’m sure you know that. Is it a chronic condition? It sounds like it might be, I can– I can get someone at the hospital to treat you, if you want, my mentor is amazing in their field–”

“Ilya,” She interrupts him, “Breathe. I’m okay. I’m used to it.”

She can almost see his frown on the other side of the line. “You shouldn’t be. I– I wish you weren’t.”

God, she wants to take her heart out of her chest because it’s just choking her a little too much now. She tries really hard not to give much meaning to his worry. He’s her friend, he’s in the medical field, of course he wants to help, of course he’s concerned. He’d be like this with everyone else, she’s sure.

“That’s–” she clears her throat. “That’s sweet of you, but trust me, I’ll be fine. All I need is some good food and peaceful sleep.”

She’s not sure she can get the latter since she’s been having even more trouble with staying asleep during the night, but she can still hope.

“Well, I actually thought– uh. Wait. Are you done with work? You’re done, right?”

“Not really,” she sighs, looking at her computer screen. “Doing overtime today. Trying to get a headstart since Thursday we launch a new line.” She scoffs, tired. “I’m the only one left in the office, but it’s oddly calming.”

“Syran,” Ilya deadpans, tone almost scary.

“Ye– yeah?” She asks, wondering where this is going.

“I strongly insist you stop,” he warns, but she can tell there’s no real intention behind it. “You have to rest.”

She laughs. “Is that a threat?”

“Yes. Don’t make me use my mean doctor voice.”

She can’t help but laugh again. “Oh, I should listen, then.”

“Yes,” He says, but then his tone suddenly gets lighter. “Please?”

His plea almost gets to her. She really appreciates his concern, and– god. Honestly, she wishes he was with her right now. There’s no point in denying it.

Maybe it is a crush.

“I will, I will. Just have to finish one more thing and then I’ll go home.”

“Good. You better.” He reprimands. Syran smiles.

“I promise, I’ll send you a picture of Persie when I get there, if that will make you believe me,” she teases.

“Well, I will accept cat pictures anytime of the day, so,” he plays along, solemnly. “But– actually, huh. Have you eaten yet?”

Syran fiddles with a pencil, thinking when’s the last time she ate. “Not really, some colleagues asked me to go for drinks, but I’m not feeling it. Might just go to bed, to be honest. Too lazy to eat.”

“Well, too bad, guess I’ll have to throw away this extra chinese food I bought.”

“Uhhh. What?”

Oh god, if he really means what she thinks he means she might just hide under her desk and never crawl out.

Ilya laughs, but sounds nervous, “I called because. Well– I was going to check up on you and then I remembered you like chinese food, so I thought– you know, I– I thought I’d bring you some, figured you needed the extra care. Uh– since you’ve been having a hard time and all.”

Syran is going to die, right now this instant, she is going to plummet into the ground, twenty floors below, and bury herself under the pavement. Her cheeks are going wild.

She genuinely doesn’t know what to say except that if she could she’d materialise next to him right now, but at the same time she wants to run away and never see anyone ever again. She’s had crushes before, sure, but with Ilya it’s like– one moment she thinks she can handle it, and the next it just bursts inside her. Curse him and his kindness, and compassion, and dorky jokes, and handsome face.

Fuck.

“Uh. That is if that’s okay. Is that okay? I don’t want to overstep, I just thought–”

She should be dead right now.

“No, that’s okay! That’s completely fine, I actually– uh. I really appreciate it.”

Stars, the amount of times this happens. The number of times Ilya does or says something nice and completely unexpected and she’s so floored she takes ages to reply. And then, being the considerate person he is, he doubts himself and Syran wants to scream even more. Fuck, if this was Asra, or Pasha, or literally anyone else, it would be okay. It would be normal. She’d appreciate it, and hang out with them, and get distracted, and be fine. And it would all be okay.

But it’s Ilya, so her brain has to speed up and go in overload and overthink everything. Of course, it does.

“Oh, okay. Uh. Nice. So, I could come and pick you up? At work, that is. If you want.”

Right, because there’s nothing healthier for her heart right now than to be in a car with Ilya, in close proximity with Ilya, go home with Ilya, and eat chinese food with Ilya. Maybe she already died. Maybe this is some twisted version of purgatory. Either way, her heart is about to stop.

“Sure– thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Good, because I’m already, like, ten minutes away,” he chuckles.

Yeah, no, she’s done for.

🂱

Surprisingly, the car ride is a lot easier on her heart than Syran thought it was going to be.

After the initial awkwardness and small talk, she and Ilya just find themselves humming along to a song on the radio, which soon turns into a full-blown karaoke session. And just like that, it’s fine. Syran munches on a few spring rolls on the way because her stomach rumbled so loud that Ilya practically threatened to stop the car and wait unless she ate something right away.

Ilya pulls into her apartment complex’s driveway as they’re still laughing about some dumb joke he made about oranges. They’re still happily chatting in the elevator as they hold way too much chinese food in their hands. They’re still smiling when they walk into Syran’s apartment and Persephone welcomes them with insistent meows, demanding pets and attention. They share simple words and comfortable silence as they set everything on the table, stomachs ready to eat.

It’s all okay. It’s all fine.

It’s nice and smooth, and yes her chest is pounding and she can’t stop thinking about every little thing he does, but it’s fine. Spending time with Ilya feels like the world has stopped, she decides. Ilya and his deep, throaty laugh that goes five pitches higher whenever he finds something really funny for too long. Ilya and his hands, slender and careful, sure like death and taxes, he said once. Ilya and his eyes, always picking up on everything, but never revealing much. Ilya and his awkwardness whenever he feels too shy, Ilya and the way he recovers from that even though everyone can read through his bravado. Ilya and his all-encompassing hugs, Ilya and his thoughtful words, Ilya and his jokes, Ilya and his smile. Just– Ilya. Ilya. Ilya.

His name sounds like a song.

Everything is him and her sitting at the table, eating after a long day, soft music in the background, sun long gone, and nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters.

“That’s ridiculous! How can anyone say that?” Syran laughs before biting into the last of her dumplings. “Seriously, you’d think in this time and age people would know better than to make a sexist joke.”

Ilya joins her in the laugh, “I know, right? Like, the whole class went dead silent and didn’t laugh, then when I asked to explain it he was all like. Oh, I mean– I guess– I uh, well– maybe it was a little insensitive.” Ilya lowers his pitch and tries on a creaky voice, clearly imitating his professor.

It makes Syran snort and she has to cover her mouth in fear of spitting her food out.

“That’s where it got hilarious though, he just got all red either from anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure.” Ilya shakes his head, smile lingering on his face as he searches for a piece of meat in his noodles.

When the food is all done and cleaned up, leftovers neatly packed on the counter, Syran makes some tea for the both of them. It’s getting a little late and she stifles a yawn as she brings the mug to Ilya, back to sitting at the table.

Ilya notices, because of course he does.

“Maybe I should go, it was a long day for you.”

Syran shakes her head, maybe a little too vehemently. “I don’t mind! At least finish the tea. I sleep badly anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, “That doesn’t convince me more, Elkas.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Syran laughs once more, then takes a sip from her mug. She’s grateful he doesn’t ask about her insomnia, though, she’s not sure she wants to think about that right now. When she glances back at Ilya, he’s looking at her with an odd glint in his eyes.

“What?” Syran asks.

He opens and closes his mouth, like he’s pondering whether to say something or not.

“Nothing, I just–” He frowns a little at her, like he’s trying to decipher her features. “Ah, it’s stupid, nevermind.” He shakes his head. But Syran won’t let go that easily.

“Ok, now you have to tell me,” she teases.

Ilya looks down at his mug like if he stares at it long enough he will be able to hide in it.

“I just– I haven’t felt this calm in a while,” He smiles, still without meeting her eyes. For a second, she feels like he read her mind. “Truth is, I’ve been struggling to keep up in university, mostly whenever we do sessions in the hospital. I always feel like I need to go faster, do more, be more. Like– like I’m never achieving enough. ” His brows knit and Syran’s heart aches a little.

She knows that feeling too well. While her life isn’t at its worst at all right now, she’d be lying if she said there aren’t many moments like that still. That there haven’t been any moments like that ever. She’s experienced most of them back in her university years, getting her degree was so stressful that she can’t even remember how many times she found herself in her room, panicking, crying, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out where she was going wrong. Where she was going wrong with her relationship, where she was going wrong with her life. Never enough.

Sometimes work feels like that too and it brings back ugly feelings.

“But right now I don’t feel that, it’s like I can breathe a little, like–” Ilya continues, finally looking at her– she can tell he’s blushing. Fuck, god, she’s definitely blushing too. He chuckles nervously. “It’s nice. To be here, like this. With you.”

She’s going to die. She’s definitely about to die. She’s dead and this is nowhere in hell or heaven or in-between, this is just Ilya sitting in the kitchen with her, like frozen in a picture.

She can only hear the thrum of her heart, she can only see Ilya’s eyes, she can only feel the warmth of his body on the other chair, so close to her, yet so far apart. She manages to come to her senses enough to gather a reply.

“Yeah,” she swallows, nodding, as if that will bring her back to the ground. It doesn’t. “Me too. I– I get how you feel. It’s frustrating when the world makes you feel– so small.” She looks at the table, the smooth texture of what coated it once now long gone, leaving rough wood behind, unpolished, consumed in different spots. She feels like that, sometimes. Rough at the edges, full of splinters, and been through so much all she is now is exposed skin. Doing her best to hold it together.

She looks up at Ilya, ribcage too small for everything she’s feeling. “But. Yeah, this is nice. To be here. With you.”

“Good to know,” Ilya smiles. It’s small, but slowly gets bigger. She can’t look away from him, she probably has to, or else she will explode. It’s like he’s inching closer. Is he inching closer? Is it a trick of the light?

No, it isn’t because he definitely is. This is happening. It’s happening and Syran is going to let it happen. She doesn’t know what else to do, she doesn’t want to do anything else.

There’s only Ilya, Ilya and his lips, Ilya and his hand crawling up the back of her chair, Ilya getting so, so close. There’s only him, and her, and nothing else.

It’s just Ilya, beautiful, smart, charming Ilya.

His name sounds like the waves.

They’re about to kiss. And Syran is going to let it happen.

Or maybe not.

The sound of the door unlocking open breaks whatever spell they were under. Ilya shoots back, sitting upright in his chair, eyes wide and downcast like he wants to crawl under the table from the scare. Syran stares at him for a second more, dazed.

“Honey, I’m home!” Ran’s voice echoes through the room. Syran turns towards the entrance, her friend’s eyes tired but an unmistakable grin on her face. “Oh– hello!” She gapes for a second when she notices Ilya sitting next to Syran.

“Hello, Ran,” he waves. Ran’s eyes dart between the two of them, but before she can say anything else, Syran shoots up and runs to hug her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I forgot you were coming back earlier!” Syran pulls away, holding her shoulders, genuinely happy to see her friend again. “How was the journey? Your parents okay? Are you hungry? There’s some leftovers–”

“Hey, hey, calm down!” Ran laughs. “Let me take my jacket off first!”

It’s weird, but the air diffuses a little when they talk a bit about Ran’s trip, just small, idle chatter. Ilya asks some questions, genuinely interested as he finishes his tea– almost chugs it, really. Then Ran excuses herself to go take a shower because she’s beat.

Syran knows she did that mostly to leave the two of them alone to say goodbye; Syran dreads the conversation she knows will follow later with her. In the meantime, though, all she can think of is how awkwardly Ilya stands next to her, all nerves, shoulders hunched. She can’t help but notice how much further apart they are now, how different the air feels. Something stings in Syran’s chest. She wonders if that split moment between them was even real. Maybe she imagined it.

Maybe they were never going to kiss.

God, the thought of that. Of kissing Ilya. She’s had it before, but. Now it feels so incredibly real and so incredibly farfetched at the same time.

“I– uh. Thank you for having me over,” he mutters, polite smile on his face.

“Sure, no problem. Thank you for rescuing me from work.” She tries, her mouth running before her brain can. That’s a stupid thing to say.

Ilya laughs, it’s still nervous, but not as much as before, “Anytime.”

Her brain can’t help but remember.

Anytime, for you.

Ilya leaves her with a wave, his distinct perfume made of musk and clean linen whooshing after him.

Syran feels like he took something of hers with him, too.

🂱

She is on her laptop when Ran knocks on her bedroom door. When Syran allows her in, Ran is wearing her cosiest pyjama and her hair is still damp from the shower.

“Feeling better?” Syran smiles, putting aside her laptop as Ran sits on the side of the bed. Persephone makes her way to her with a small meow.

“Much better, I was sore all over,” She sighs. “Man, a week helping my parents with the farm and my body is already done with it. I don’t know how they do it.”

“Remember that one summer we tried to trim your horses’ hooves?” Syran laughs.

Ran joins her, wide eyes in realisation. “Oh my god, yeah! What were we, fifteen? What a mess.”

“Yeah, I still have nightmares about that.”

“Oh, come on, Babette was just scared.”

“Yeah, and she scared me in return.”

Ran laughs again, Syran smiles with a shake of her head, remembering their time as unruly teenagers. When the mood calms down, Ran turns to her with raised eyebrows.

“So?”

“So?” Syran echoes.

“Well. Ilya was here.”

Oh fuck.

Okay, Syran should have seen this coming, really, given how and when she came in, but. Ugh. She tries not to give herself away. “Yes, and?”

“Well, you tell me.” Ran smirks.

“Oh god, not you too.” Syran buries her face in her hands.

Ran huffs a laugh, clearly way too amused. “What do you mean not me too?”

“I already have Asra and Pasha on my case, so before you ask– no, there’s nothing between us, no, there won’t be anything, no, I do want to kiss him.” Syran looks up from her hands and almost yells, eyes wide and blood rushing up to her cheeks. “I MEAN I DON’T. I DON’T WANT TO KISS HIM.”

“Hm.”

She groans, resigned to Ran’s enquiring stare. “It’s just– ugh, fuck. I just. I don’t know. You know? ”

“Oh boy, you're really gone huh?”

“Please don’t tell the others.” Syran sighs.

“From what you tell me I don’t really have to.”

“Yeah, but– ugh.” Syran shakes her head. “I feel so pathetic, he’s– he’s got so much going on for him, and like, it’s weird, right? Isn’t it weird?”

“Why would it be?” Ran asks, brow knotted.

“I don’t know– like. He’s part of the group and all. We’re all friends and I feel– I feel like this shouldn’t happen.” She groans again, head thrown back to her headboard.

“Syran.” Ran’s tone is a lot more serious now.

“Mh?” Syran asks without moving her head.

“Stop blaming yourself for having feelings. Not everyone is like Diana. Ilya has done nothing but care for you. He literally took care of you when you got hurt.”

At that, Syran’s eyes go wide. She didn’t think Ran was going to bring her up. Diana was– in a lot of ways, she was a mistake. They started dating halfway through her second year of university, and it was all fine at first. They really liked each other. Then, Syran’s insecurities (courtesy of her mother) started to show themselves more and more and Diana– didn’t take that so well. She started making Syran feel bad for everything, started blaming her for not being able to leave the house sometimes, started demanding more and more. Syran couldn’t give that to her. Not in the state she was.

Syran hasn’t been able to open up to someone in that way since. To trust her gut in the same way when it comes to romantic feelings. And although she knows Ilya is nothing like that– what if she screws it all up anyway?

Anxiety is starting to well up inside her, threatening to burst out. “Yeah, but. But what if– I don’t know. What if he’s just, you know. Acting like a friend. Because, I mean, he is, we’re friends and– that’s what friends do, right? And what if I open up like that again and. You know.” She looks back at her friend and she’s sure that Ran knows exactly what’s going through her head right now.

“Syran, I get it. And yes, you’re friends, but– you’re friends with everyone else too, right? And everyone has been lovely and understanding and they’ve known you for years, longer than Diana ever has. We all love you and understand you because we’re mature and not needy assholes.”

Syran laughs at that, then finds herself sniffing. God, was she about to cry over this?

Ran continues. “Listen, sometimes he looks at you like– I don’t know, like you’re the only person in the room. I’ve never seen Diana look at you like that. Or anyone else you’ve dated.” Ran smiles fondly. “The only reason everyone’s on your case is because you’ve been too blind to see it all this time.”

Syran’s blood suddenly rushes up, everywhere, head to toe. “Wh– all this time? What do you mean? Ran, I genuinely think he’s just being nice. And– and my feelings. I don’t want to do anything about them– I’m not even sure I understand them, I–”

“Babe, I love you, but–” Ran reaches out to put a hand on Syran’s leg, covered by the duvet. “You’re either incredibly dense, or incredibly in denial. You guys were literally about to kiss before I came in.”

“We–we weren’t!” Syran’s eyes get even wider, heart racing just at the thought of everything that could have happened. “Okay, maybe we were. I’m honestly not sure. It felt like– like everything was in slow motion.”

Ran smiles, but this time it’s understanding. “I say you shouldn’t hold yourself back anymore.”

Yeah, like that’s easy. Just before she falls asleep that night, her phone vibrates with a text. Ilya’s name lights up the screen and Syran’s heart swells in return.

From: dr. devowreck

hey, just wanted to thank you for tonight. I enjoyed it. I hope you’re doing well. I mean, like, with your headache and all. And work And in general i guess Uh, okay, goodnight, take care

Syran starts smirking at his words, but then embarrassment flushes her and she finds herself staring at the screen, brain empty of an answer, with no idea how to take that in.

To: dr. devowreck

Ah, it’s no biggie, the food was good And the company too i guess ahah Anyway, yeah, thank you. goodnight!

No one mentions anything. It ends there. Maybe they weren’t about to kiss. Or maybe he realised that it shouldn’t have happened at all and it’s sparing her the embarrassment of turning her down by pretending nothing happened.

Maybe– maybe she’s a fucking mess.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Poisoned.”

Got this idea from a comment or ask someone made. hope this iw what they had in mind :)

Another galactic summit, more issues to deal with, and more problems to discuss, not the largest being the Burg war, and the attack on earth. Though it had been thwarted by the planet’s natural hellish landscape, there were still discussions to be made about whether the Rundi and the Vrul would help to provide a defense Nexus to the remaining planets. As well as disaster relief on the gromm home world.

The rundi home world at the GA summit chambers were, once again, rife with alien lifeforms. It was also, once again, rife with Rundi underlings who were trying very hard not to freak out with all the duties that were being placed on their backs.

At least one thing was made clear, there was no pint in getting human food for the summit, since the human delegates always insisted on trying all the other alien food. Leave enough of the nectar orbs from the Drev home world out, and that seemed to keep the humans happy enough.

Dr. Krill accompanied the Commander into the summit as was usual. Sunny was not with them today, seeing as she had work to do back aboard the ship

That left just the two of them.

Felt almost like old times.

The captain was dressed up in his fancy UNSC uniform, and as such, he was obligated to behave.

Apparently behaving didn’t mean avoiding arguments with his most important doctor, who --despite being a complete genius-- was hardly capable of getting the captain to agree with him.

“I just think that there should be better security at these things. All of the most important people in the galaxy are here.”

“Krill,  there is an entire armada outside, I hardly think we need to worry about being attacked by the burg. Besides, their attack on earth completely broke their spirits. There is no way they would try getting in here.”

Krill crossed both sets of arms, “I disagree, Commander. I have been looking into human history of warfare, and I Think that a spy could easily-”

“Krill calm down will you. Besides, species rely on the fact that you can disguise yourself to look like the other side. The Burg are so fugly that they'd be noticed in half an instant.

They came around the corner, and the Commander was nearly knocked onto his back as an Iotin brushed past hurrying from the banquet hall.

The Commander tripped back into a wall, “Woah watch….yourself.” The Iotin disappeared around the next corner, and the Commander looked after him with a frown, “Didn’t know those guys could move that fast. Wonder why he could be in such a hurry.”

Krill waved it off as the Commander poked his head into the banquet room, “Oh look, pink orbs!”

“Commander, don’t you think we should wait until after the summit, when the food is being served.”

The man waved a hand, “Oh no one will notice one missing.”

He quickly snuck into the room and Krill rolled his eyes as the man came out munching on one of the pink fruits.

“And they made you leader of the fleet.”

“Technically they are thinking of making me leader of the entire Galactic armada, but I digress.”

“Lord help us all.”

The captain made a face.

“What it’s true.”

The man shook his head, “No, not you, this fruit tastes…. Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird.”

He shrugged and took another bite, “Not bad enough for me to stop eating it, so good weird I guess.”

He stuffed the rest of the orb into his mouth and licked the juices off his fingers.

Krill sighed, “I still can’t believe they would choose you.”

“Better believe it.”

The two of them walked into the main conference chamber to sit down with the other delegates. The human delegation was near the top tier, and so that is where they went, taking a seat  just to the right of the Rundi chairwoman’s box.

The entire room was alive with the sound of alien life.

Commander Vir leaned over to speak with one of the delegates and krill was left to watch the room. Most of the delegations were here, though the iotin delegation had arrived late. Seemed strange considering he had seen one of their number not long ago.

The light dimmed  a couple of times, and the chairwoman took her pedestal and began to greet the delegates. Krill looked on politely as was his want though he wasn’t entirely interested in the whole thing.

The charwoman could be rather long-winded when she got going.

He sat there through a good few minutes of it glancing over at the other human delegates on occasion. Vir looked almost sleepy, though that was almost to be expected, he was never very good at politics, even though he was involved in them so much.

He turned back to the delegation.

The commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat during a discussion about intergalactic trade laws, and Krill looked over again.

The man had taken to licking his lips repeatedly.

“Are you ok?” Krill muttered.

“Yeah fine, just thirsty.” He muttered 

Krill let it go through something made him turn back not to long after. The human was rubbing at his mouth, which appeared red, though he supposed that was supposed to be expected. Little lines of sweat were trickling down from his hairline.

He scooted a bit closer.

“Commander, are you feeling alright.”

He was waved off, “yeah, I’m ok, it just got a little hot in here as all…. Feeling kind of…. Faint. Maybe a little nauseous. I am sure I’ll be fine. Probably just need something to eat.”

The talks continued, but Krill wasn’t focused on them anymore. The commander was not looking very good. He was sweating enough that the collar of his dress shirt was almost soaked. The tint of his face had gone from healthy blush to a yellow parlor. He looked as if he was about to pass out. A few  of the other human delegates had stared to notice.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, “Commander are you feeling alright.”

“I…. I think I…. Just need to…. Walk around.”

His voice was slurred.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea commander?” Krill said turning his head to face him. 

His pupils were unusually wide despite the dark space around them.

“The human was breathing hard now, one hand over his chest. His dry mouth from earlier had gone, replaced by saliva production so excessive he was having to clear his mouth every couple of seconds.

He looked at Krill, and the expression on his face was enough.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The other delegates had leaned over sensing the commotion, and they stood to let Krill and the commander pass as he stood and wobbled his way towards the stairs. 

Krill could sense something was wrong almost immediately.

Dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea.

“Someone, help him walk.” Krill ordered not caring about the delegation anymore.

Their sudden movement had caused a bit of commotion on one side of the room. The commander paused on the stairwell, and instead of turning towards the exit, he turned towards the delegation floor. Krill tried to grab him, tried to stop him, but the human -- even in his weakened state -- was still too strong.

A muttering had grown up around the crowd as he staggered onto the floor.

The chairwoman stopped speaking looking on in confusion, “Commander, are you alright.”

The human paused at the center of the floor.

IN the main lighting he looked absolutely horrific. He was so pale his skin was almost yellow. The skin around his mouth was red. Sweat drenched the side of his face. He was drooling so badly that it was, at this point, impossible to control.

“The...food…. Has been poisoned.” He choked out through heaving breaths.

And then he collapsed to his knees vomiting violently on the white marble floor.

The entire delegation stood shock and uproar filling the room. Krill ran over to help the human whose arms and hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

The sight was horrifying. Saliva dripped in strings from his mouth. His clothing and hands were stained pink from the orb fruit from earlier. 

Krill remembered he said it tasted weird.

Could he really have been poisoned.

A couple other human delegates vaulted over the railings and onto the floor grabbing the man by the arms as his strength began to fail him. His body was shaking violently now.

Krill practically scream ordered one of the assistance to grab a medical kit.

The entire room was in an uproar.

Krill jammed his finger at the Iotin representatives, “Don’t let them leave!”

The Iotins stood in shock as the delegation turned on them. The Drev delegation, weaponless, still managed to make a circle around the group, “Someone, go grab the food, and get me a sample!”

The commander had been rolled onto his side. His body continued to reject whatever toxin it had been given, though Krill desperately tried to avoid him aspirating and choking. That only got harder once the man began to cease and convulse. He had to reduce the absorption, but he also needed to keep the man from throwing it back up.

His kit was open on the floor, and he had the others help him With the tubes and medication. Adam wouldn’t be helping him now, so he would have to get directly to the stomach himself.

He had one of the other humans hold him as he inserted the tube and began with the activated charcoal. Hopefully that would be enough before they got test results back. One of the Rundi came sprinting into the room holding one of the pink orbs handing it over to one of Krill’s assistants who was ordered to test the fruit with one of the testing strips.

They did as told and the entire group waited for the results.

When the strip turned blue, krill knew what it was. 

It was at least similar to some toxins he had seen before and attacked the central nervous system in humans through absorption in the gut. The dosage had been too high however, and while the human could potentially choke to death, much of the toxin had already been rejected by the body.

“Someone cut open his sleeve.”

The uniform was ignored as the sleeve was cut open and Krill placed an IV reaching into his kit for the antitoxin.

“You…. Just have that lying around?” one of the other humans asked.

Krill nodded, “I work with humans. I expect them to ingest stupid things that could kill them on a regular basis.”

He was calm on the outside like a doctor should be, but on the inside he was panicking horribly. The commander was not looking good.

But he placed the IV and made the injection.

“Someone test the other food. I want to know if this was planned for just the humans or for the entire delegation.

His orders were quickly followed, and they found the toxin in almost every dish that had been in the banquet hall. 

“You should be glad it was the human who took it first.” Krill was saying 

“Why is that?” The chairwoman asked 

“Because, the human body is the only one that would have noticed the poisoning before it was too late. The human brain responds to toxins that affect the central nervous system with dizziness and nausea. For any other species, you would have been dead before the symptoms kicked in.”  On the floor the human convulsions had stopped. His heart rate was depressed now, but krill was keeping an eye on it.

The Iotins were still looking around in panic as the Drev glowered at them.

“What is the meaning of this.” Their leader called.

Krill turned on them anger in every line of his body, “We saw one of you leaving the room before we entered, and they were in a hurry. So forgive me if I am a little suspicious.” 

More uproar, but the Drev kept the delegates in check.

‘Come on, Commander.” rill muttered 

If he was going to wake up, it would be in the next few minutes if only for a little bit.

One of the other humans had ripped open his uniform jacket removing his tie and pulling the coat off discarded to the side. Krill was more than grateful for their help. Even more pleased when the commander opened his eyes bleary, his pupils almost back to normal.

“What… happened.” He slurred 

“Congratulations, sir, you saved the entire delegation from death by poisoning. You’re a hero.”

He groaned, “I don’t feel like one.” he leaned his head back onto the floor, “Catch the bastards who did this for me will you.” He licked his lips, “I’m gonna pass out again.” 

And he did as promised.

Once again the human body had managed to save the day.

Because as it turns out humans are actually a lot harder to poison that one might first assume. Give them to high of a dose, and they will throw it up, give them too low of a dose and it won’t kill them. Plus the human body is very good at letting everyone know when something is wrong.

It is especially difficult to poison a human when their best friend is an experienced doctor.

Whoever had done this, had not succeeded in their end goal.

And they wouldn't likely be free for long. 

[tales-of-spring]

please don’t go | Edward Cullen x Male reader

Pairing / Ship: Edward Cullen x Male!Reader

Featuring: Edward Cullen 

Words: 1,197

Category: Fluff 

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse / being beaten and talking about said abuse. Mentions of having nightmares / flashbacks of the abuse. 

Summary: After you get attacked, Edward saves you and lets you sleep at his house. The nightmares hunt you though, and once again Edward comes by your side to sooth you. 

Author’s Note: Requested by @kingreidx​ hope you like it! Sorry for the delay xD This was really fun writing!! :D

You waved to your friend as you walked out of their front door. A Friday’s night of binging Netflix and eating home-made snacks had done you good, and you were more then ready to return home and snuggle up in bed. You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket as you turned the street corner. What you didn’t realize though, probably due to your sleepiness, was that you walked into an alleyway that lead to the wrong part of the town. You only just realized this when you turned a few more corners and saw a broken down street sign. This wasn’t a problem though, you knew your birth town like the backside of your pocket.

What will be a problem, was the gang of men approaching you from behind. You caught a glimpse of their shadows before you turned around in confusion and felt a sudden, hard punch flat onto your jaw. You grunted and caught yourself from falling onto your face by sticking out your hands. The gravel felt rough under your skin and it took little time before the men started to approach closer and prepare to do more damage to your body. That is however, stopped, by something swift and quick. One by one the men were pulled or thrown into the darkness of the night. You were still in quite some pain so all you managed to was turn over so you laid on your side, arm leaning onto the ground, and staring into the void.

‘’Hello?’’ You managed to call out. The silence only lasted a few second until a figure appeared from by your side. It took a second for your eyes to adjust due to the fall, the hit, and the dim lightning, but you could eventually see the person’s - and quite possibly your rescuers - face. It was Edward Cullen, but you knew him better as ‘’The Hair’’ - a nickname coined by your classmate Jessica. You saw him every now and then at school and you even went to his house a couple of times for tutoring in history, you think. You weren’t sure, the fall made you a little doozy. 

Edward didn’t say anything, but his expression was obviously one of worry and protectiveness, why you didn’t really know. He kneeled down beside you and put his arms around your shoulders and under your legs so he could lift you up. ‘’Edward? is that you?’’ This time the question didn't disappear into the night. 

‘’Try and relax, okay?’’ His voice was calm yet husky, but not deep. He talked in a comforting tone. You swallowed, you were in some pain still and the dizziness in your head didn't make it easier to stay awake either. The last thing you remember before passing out was Edward’s grip onto your body.  When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the scent in the room. It was a familiar one; Jasmine and sandalwood. The only place you knew that held this particular scent was the Cullen’s house, so it was no surprise that you woke up feeling calm and relaxed. As you got up from the couch you were laying on, Edward appeared into the room. You started to notice the details around you and realized you two were in the living room. Edward cleared his throat before talking. ‘’Y/N? How are you feeling?’’ 

He had his hands in his pockets, his jaw was clenched but that was normal for him. ‘’I-..I’m fine.’’ You lied, even though the pain in your jaw was soothed it still hasn’t disappeared completely, and the pounding headache didn’t help either. 

‘’Why don’t you stay here for the night, my parents already prepared the guest room for you.’’ You smiled at Edward’s offer but what you needed right now was your own space, your own bed. So you grabbed your jacket from the couch and started walking towards the hallway. ‘’Edward, that’s really sweet, but I think I just need to be-’’

You were stopped by Edward grabbing onto your upper arm, he didn’t held on tight but you could feel that he didn’t want to let you go. ‘’Y/N, it’s really dangerous outside at this time of night.’’ You only noticed just now that your bodies, your faces, were inches separated from each other. If you wanted, you could stand on your toes and touch his nose with yours. He looked at you, not just at you, but into your eyes, deeply. ‘’Please, don’t go.’’  You eventually feel asleep in the comfortable bed located in one of the Cullen’s spare bedrooms. You didn’t pay much attention when you walked in. You kicked off your shoes, pulled off your pants and slipped into the bed. The sheets were still hugging your body when the nightmares of the attack started. Flashes of the scene ripped before your eyes, fear and pain striking your chest. You felt the sweat on your forehead as your eyes flashed open and you launched up in bed, hands resting on the matras. A scream escaping your lungs. Before you knew what was happening, Edward came rushing into the room, dressed in only his long pajama bottoms that were floor length. ‘’What happened?’’ He asked as he came to your bed side, kneeling down. You swallowed, letting it sink in what just happened. ‘’I ehm-.. I had a nightmare.’’ Edward frowned and put a hand on yours. ‘’You want me to stay with you?’’ Your inside were screaming yes, you wanted to be held by his strong arms, have him protect you. He already saved you one and somehow you knew he would be ready to do it again. So you nodded, and scooted across the other side of the bed. Edward climbed into the bed and you saw his upper body in the pale moonlight; a muscular torso with defined abs, thick biceps and broad shoulders. ‘’C’m here, lay on my chest. I’ll hold you.’’ And you did as he said. You laid your head on his chest and held onto him for dear life. You felt one of his hands wrap around your back, clinging to your waist. He was softly patting your head while whispering sweet nothings in your ear to calm you down, and god did it work. The last thing you know for sure happened was Edward Cullen kissing your head as you fell asleep in his arms.  You woke up to the sunlight seeping through the windows, still tightly held by Edward, who was already awake and smiling as you were waking up. ‘’Hey there.’’ You managed to get out in a croaky voice. He chuckled and almost instinctively placed his thumb and index finger on your chin so your glance was fixed on him. He looked at you the same way he looked at you the night before, deeply into your eyes. You were about to say something when Edward urged forward and softly placed his lips onto yours. You immediately closed your eyes in response to the tender feeling, and you two stayed like this for a few seconds until he broke contact. ‘’Hey there’’ he said back. 

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. sugawara and kuroo

part 1 with bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima here!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: y/n, the manager of her school’s volleyball team, finds herself sick after days of hard  work, yet she still goes to school to support her team~ 

warnings: the reader is sick, and she passes out in kuroo’s scenario :))

pairings: sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader (separate!!)

total word count: 1.5k

a/n: OKAY SO HAHHSLKDFJ RIGHT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I GOT SICK W/ A FEVER- I THINK I JINXED MYSELF OMG

i tried to make the scenario KINDA different, but with the same idea hehe

anYWAYS i’m so sorry if this makes like zero sense AHSLDKF- i wrote a lot while i was sick SO ill blame it on fever delusion if it flops 😌

OH AND THIS IS FOR @haikyuuheartsclub ty for reading the first one and asking for a part 2 hehe <33

You getting sick was inevitable.

You knew that you were bound to get sick with all of the work you had been doing and all of the late nights you spent preparing volleyball strategies, planning practice tournaments for your team, or studying until your eyesight blurred.

Being your school's volleyball team manager was not only hard, but it was ridiculously time consuming. Not to mention that you were bombarded with schoolwork, and you had exams coming up. Your stress levels had never been higher, and you were practically living off of caffeine with the amount of sleep you were always lacking.

So when you woke up with a sick feeling and the worst headache, you weren't completely surprised. Annoyed would have been a better word.

You knew that your team was getting ready for an important tournament, so you would have to stay extra long for practice. Groaning as you got ready, you weren't sure you could make it through the day.

You sluggishly pulled on a hoodie and brushed your teeth, taking note of how warm you felt as you washed your face. Grabbing a thermometer, you quickly measured your temperature.

100.4 Fahrenheit. Not too bad... just a low-grade fever. You tried to shrug it off and ignored how disgusting your body felt. You slung a backpack over your shoulder and walked out the door, heading to school.

You waited at the bus stop, shaking your head to try and make the sickness go away. When the bus arrived a while later, you plopped down onto the closest seat and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing. You were just so... tired...

You drifted off to sleep, the soft sound of the bus driving across the road comforting you.

...

“Uh, Y/N?” Someone was shaking your side, and you immediately lifted your head from the bus window you were leaning on. It seemed like you just closed your eyes a second ago... where were you now?

"Mm?" you hummed sleepily, blinking slowly. You rubbed your eyes as the sunlight filtered through the window, and it made you feel warmer than you already felt.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but we’re already at school." You looked outside, and he was right; you saw Karasuno in the near distance. 

Your brain processed the fact that Sugawara, a third year from Karasuno’s volleyball team, was sitting next to you. You saw his blurred figure lean next to you, and he brushed some hair out of your face. His fingers grazed against your forehead, but he quickly froze. 

"Y/N- Y/N! Why is your forehead so hot?" He studied your face with concerned eyes, noticing how tired you looked.

"Hm? No, it’s not. It wasn’t that high when I checked... probably the sunlight..." you mumbled, leaning on the back of your bus seat behind you. You put a hand on your forehead, and it confirmed that you were indeed burning up; it was considerably warmer than earlier in the morning. You groaned and got up.

"You don’t look too good, don't you think you should go home-" Sugawara started, but you interrupted him.

"No, you need your manager today, you guys have a game soon," you said, your tone tired but strict. Sugawara eyed you anxiously, but you waved him off. "I'll be fine," you reassured him. Grabbing your backpack, you got up from your seat, heading for the bus’ exit.

Woah.

You knew you were sick, but you didn't think you would be this dizzy. Everything seemed to sway to one side, and you put one arm on the seat of the bus, leaning on it for support. You rested your head on your arm, and you felt Sugawara’s arm wrapping around you for support.

“Alright, now you have no choice. You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not, clearly something’s not okay,” he told you, and you were too lightheaded to argue. You just nodded along and he helped you back into your seat. 

You clutched your head as you tried to make everything go away. Sugawara went to talk to the bus driver in the background, and miraculously, the driver made an exception for you.

“We’re ahead of schedule anyways,” the bus driver reasoned. He turned the bus around, heading back towards your house.

“Okay, now that that’s done, you can sleep if you want to. You could probably use the rest, I can only imagine how tired you are...” Sugawara said softly, and you gave a small nod. You scooted further down into the seats, making enough space for the boy to sit next to you. He gladly obliged, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you drifting off to sleep. Your head subconsciously drifted onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Koushi?” you mumbled, your voice coated with sleepiness.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I just wanted to thank you.” Your eyes remained closed, and Sugawara couldn’t tell if the blush on your face was from your fever... or something else? 

“You need to take breaks, you know. You work really hard, it’s a wonder you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he said, half jokingly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and finally fell asleep.

Kuroo found you in the classrooms; your head was down, and your headache was terrible. You were almost asleep; you were trying your best to stay awake, and you weren't sure how long you could keep it up.

He was walking down the halls, casually glancing into your classroom to see if you were finished, and he softly smiled at the sight of you.

"Tired, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, smirking as he tapped your shoulder.

"Hm?" You lifted your head up, surprised at the unexpected touch. "Oh- Kuroo, shut up," you replied, rolling your eyes as you stretched. He laughed and grabbed your backpack for you, slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for practice?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, and the two of you walked to the gym.

Your head was killing you with every step you took, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You looked to the distance, trying to ease your headache. Kuroo’s voice was slowly melting into background noise. 

Suddenly you froze and stopped walking, earning a curious glance from Kuroo. You were forgetting something...

“Wait- where’s my... backpack?” You spotted it on the boy next to you, and you shook your head. “Sorry, forgot that you had it,” you said, with a sheepish laugh.

“Something wrong?” he frowned. “You’re acting distracted... more distracted than usual, anyways.” You shook your head, deciding to keep your sickness to yourself.

“I’m good, just tired,” you assured him. He nodded slowly, and walked into the gym, you following close behind.

Only you, Kuroo, and the coaches were in the gym; you were early. You flashed a quick smile as you waved hello.

"Great, you guys are early. I have a couple strategies to discuss," the coach said, gesturing to a whiteboard in front of him. The two of you nodded, and he began to explain.

"Alright... if we're going to win this next match..." he started, but you couldn't make yourself pay attention. The only thing on your mind was how your head wouldn't stop hurting, everything seemed to echo, and just overall how sick you felt.

"What do you think, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You snapped out of your sleepy state at the sound of your name.

“Wha-” You blinked, looking around at all of the eyes on you. You tried to remember what the others were talking about... oh. Strategies. Right. "I just think we... we need to..." You looked at thr whiteboard, but you couldn't focus. You swayed to one side, blinking hard. The world really seemed like it was tilting to one side... "Woah, sorry-" you tried to say.

"Y/N?" You saw Kuroo reach out towards you as you slowly lowered down into a fetal position, resting your head on your knees. "Hey, Y/N? You okay?" You swallowed.

"Yea- yeah. Just... give me a second," you breathed. You felt Kuroo kneel down next to you, and you were right; someone's arm wrapped around you for support, and you knew it was Kuroo's. You knew you were safe as you lost consciousness, falling further into his arms.

...

You awoke, and the first thought was how bright the gym lights were... they weren't this bright before...

"Oh- Y/N! You're awake," Kuroo said, rushing over to you. He put the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're still burning..." he said with a frown.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I don't know, I've been sick all day and I guess I couldn’t handle it..."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. You smiled softly.

"It wasn't important... besides I have manager duties to take care of," you said with a sigh.

"Not if I can help it." He picked you up in one swift motion bridal-style, smirking as you struggled to get down. "I'm not letting you down; I'm taking you home and getting you some proper medicine for this fever of yours. Health is more important than volleyball." You huffed and flopped into his arms in defeat.

"Fine." You leaned closer into Kuroo's chest, and he smiled, satisfied with your surrender.

"That's my girl." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

A/N: THESE WERE NOT THE BEST- I ADMIT BDHDDJNDJEW

hopefully these weren't too bad though-

haikyuu taglist: (send an ask to get added hehe) @floralkawa <3

MWAHH THANK YOU FOR READING!!

[endless-whump]

Nick/Milo: A Whisper of Touch

CW: referenced refusal of food, starvation, fainting spells, referenced captivity, referenced torture, malnourished whumpee, shameless fluff, cuddles, referenced dissoci@tion

Masterlist

4 am gang wheeee somehow I ended up with 2k words lol I should probably sleep

---

Nick didn’t like hovering but...he really couldn't help it.  He couldn’t help the knee-jerk reaction to throw his hands out to steady Milo whenever he swayed, or seemed off balance, or got that recognizable, pale look on his face.  He didn’t like it because more often than not he got a flinch in reaction to the sudden movement, heart twisting in guilt.  He was thankful for the instinct, though, when he actually needed it.

They always came out of nowhere, the fainting spells.  One minute Milo would be fine, maybe even relaxed if they were lucky, and the next his knees were giving out, sending him crumpling to the ground with barely a second of warning.  They were happening almost every day, which was what made Nick develop the protective habit in the first place.

He was at the bar on his laptop, desperately rummaging through deficiency possibilities when his boyfriend came into the kitchen.  He quickly clicked off the tab and smiled up at Milo, sighing.  He never took a single second he could lay eyes on him for granted, not anymore.

“Hey, love.”  Nick hummed, observing Milo’s demeanor.  He seemed relaxed enough, which was good.  He still had a bit of that far away look in his eyes, though, the one that Nick despised with all his heart.  “I was planning on making some pancakes, I’ll make the kind you always like.  The one with peaches?”

Milo was quiet for a moment, fingers fidgeting with the oversized sleeves of Nick's hoodie he wore.  He nodded, turning and reaching up to grab a glass from the dishdrying rack.  That was one victory Nick was immensely proud of.  He was getting his own water without asking anymore.  Food, on the other hand, was something they were still working on.  Nick knew better than to ask if Milo wanted food, he knew the answer would be a hasty shake of the head.  It was better if he just...simply said they were gonna have food.  It was a statement, not a question.  Not something Milo really had the option of saying no to.

Nick ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes.  It made him feel awful.  He knew it was important to make Milo feel like he could say no, reassure the fact he had options and a choice, but this was the one thing he had to reinforce.  He knew that if Milo was given the option to eat or not, he’d say no every time.  They’d already tried that, thinking he’d eventually cave and say yes.  He never did.

The sound of glass shattering jerked Nick back to attention, head snapping up.  Milo’s eyes were wide, hands shaking where the glass had slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor.

“Milo- don’t move,”  He said urgently, scrambling to his feet.  The last thing he wanted was Milo freaking out and getting glass in his foot.

“Nick- Nick I can’t, I feel-”

It only took Nick a second to realize what he was saying.  He rushed over and kicked the glass out of the way as best as he could, figuring he was better protected in socks than Milo would be with bare feet.  He wrapped his arms around Milo as if in a hug, feeling him go completely limp, as if someone had turned off some switch.  He staggered with the sudden weight against him, a hand flying to the back of Milo’s neck to make sure his head didn’t fall back.

He carefully lowered Milo to the floor, setting his partner's head in his lap as he gently pressed two fingers against the side of his neck.  He wasn’t sure it was necessary, but the small action was always a small reassurance to him.  That's what kept him calm, every time this happened.  He could reassure himself his partner was breathing, that his heart was beating.  It felt stupid, but he couldn’t help himself.  He needed that reassurance to cling to.

Milo keened softly as his eyes fluttered open, brows furrowing in disorientation.  Nick ran a hand through his hair, cupping his face.

“Hey, you’re ok, love.  There you go, I’m right here.”  

It was routine now, at least for Nick.  He hooked his arms under Milo’s knees and torso, carefully picking him up.  The glass he could take care of in a minute.  Shaking fingers clutched at his shirt as he lowered Milo onto the couch, but were easily pried away to give Nick room to pull a blanket over him.  He slid his hand to the back of Milo’s head, thumb rubbing softly against skin in a soothing motion.  He stayed crouching by the couch, humming reassurances, coaxing Milo through the waves of dizziness and confusion that always lingered after he fainted.  

It made Nick feel frustrated, how helpless he was to help.  The only thing any doctor would tell them was that Milo needed to eat more, needed to rest more, whatever.  Nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times.  He knew they were right, but it just made him feel guilty, like he wasn’t doing enough to make sure Milo recovered.  All of this felt so out of his range of capabilities.

“M..msorry, sorry-”

“Hey nothing to be sorry for,”  Nick reassured, pressing a kiss to Milo’s forehead.  “You don’t have control over that, shit happens.”

Milo reached a shaky hand out, and Nick quickly laced their fingers together and squeezed lightly.  The deep scars around his wrists were still pinkish, not yet fully paled yet.  Nick found himself staring at them, thumb brushing lightly across the raised, healing marks.

“He almost never took them off,”  Milo whispered, and Nick's gaze darted to him, brows furrowing with concern, then horror.  Milo just stared distantly, eyes fluttering shut as he took a slow, deep breath.  “They were always so..cold, and tight.  They only got warm when..when I pulled at them, and they bled.”  He nodded to his wrist, pressing his lips together.  “Those are my fault.”

“None of this is your fault.”  Nick insisted, leaning close.  “None of it, you hear me?  You can’t blame yourself for something like that.”

Milo just shrugged, eyes opening.  They locked gazes, both of their expressions soft, but grieving.

“I forgot what you looked like.”

Nick’s heart dropped at the statement, tears filling his eyes.  He brought Milo’s hand up to his lips, holding it tightly, giving Milo the space to talk.  His hands were cold, and he couldn’t resist the urge to breathe on them slightly, hoping to do at least something to ease his discomfort.

“I..I forgot what your face looked like, after a while.  It all got really blurry, I just- I couldn’t remember.  I remembered what you smelled like, what your voice sounded like; I heard it when I slept sometimes.”  A tear slipped down his cheek, a haunted look in his eyes.  “But..I couldn’t remember what you looked like, and it terrified me.  I was so scared...scared that I would never see you again, that I had forgotten it forever.”

Nick didn’t even know what to say.  He wanted to tear whoever he did this to Milo to shreds, what he could do with just a few minutes with the bastard…

“When I saw you..” Milo continued, grabbing Nick's attention again. “I thought I was dead.  At a certain point I kinda just- gave up on the idea of ever seeing you again, I guess.  I dreamed so many times about coming home...I still don’t think it's real sometimes.”

God, what do I even say to that

“I’m real,”  Nick murmured, running his other hand down Milo’s back, loving the way he smiled slightly, a little lopsidedly.  “It's all real, and you know that because if it weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, right?  Can’t dream about me if you don’t know what I look like, silly.”

Milo huffed, rolling his eyes.  “Guess not, then.”  He squeezed Nick's hand before pulling close, pressing their lips together.  Nick was a little taken aback by the move but quickly relaxed into it, sighing.  He pulled back after a moment, heart warming at the sleepy grin on the others face, the way his face had a bit more color to it amongst the pale skin and freckles, features that could never be overshadowed in Nick’s eyes, not even by the scars over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.  This was the clearest Milo’s eyes have looked in ages, the most aware he’s seemed.

“Never forgot what that felt like,”  Milo hummed, letting his head fall back on the couch.  His neck was exposed to show the curve of his shoulder, scars wrapping around his throat, a few disappearing below his collar.  It didn’t stop Nick from wanting to kiss every inch of him, not ever.

“Me neither,”  Nick smiled in return, kissing Milo’s hand again.  “You ok here if I go clean up that glass?  Need to make some breakfast, too.”

“Mhm,”  Milo hummed, nodding.  “Can we go back to bed after?  I know you didn’t sleep, I saw you on your laptop.”

Even now Milo didn’t miss things like that, it seemed.

“Yep, I don’t have any classes to worry about.  We can spend the whole goddamn day in bed if we want.”

Milo smiled, curling up and watching Nick stand.  He made his way back to the kitchen, grabbing a dustpan to sweep up the glass on the floor, dumping it in the trash.  He made something just for the two of them, some bacon and pancakes and eggs and that gross vitamin c juice Milo always drank without a single complaint.  The sun was up now but he knew nobody would wake up for a while, it was Saturday which meant absolutely nobody went to sleep at a decent hour the previous night.  Half of the house probably wasn’t even here.

He passed Milo on his way to take the food to his room, and he almost would've guessed he was asleep if it weren’t for the way he picked at a string on the couch, fidgeting idly.  Nick smiled, quickly setting the plates down on the desk beside his bed before going back for Milo.

“You ok to walk?”  He asked, watching his partner warily.  Milo nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows to sit up, eyes tired but blessedly aware.  Nick helped him up, watching him closely for any signs he’d pass out again.  He didn’t, able to walk back to their room with little assistance and crawl back into their bed.  It was nice to call it theirs again.  It felt all too empty when Milo was gone.

Nick handed Milo his plate, crawling up onto the bed and sitting cross legged next to him with a soft smile.  He ate slowly but he was eating, which is all Nick could ask of him.  The hum of the air conditioner filled the room, a soothing sound to fill the silence as they ate.  Nick matched his pace, only finishing his own food when Milo did.  

“You feeling ok?”  He asked as he set the plates aside, watching Milo pull the blankets up around him.  Nick didn’t hesitate to join him, the two cuddling up together under the covers.

“Yea, just tired.”  Milo said quietly.  They were a tangle of blankets and legs, foreheads pressed together.  They were warm, perfectly content to lay together under the heavy covers.  Nick hummed happily, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight, happy to have his partner close.

“I never want to forget what you look like again.”  Milo whispered.  Nick squeezed his hand, leaning in closer, their chests pressing together.  “I stay awake, sometimes, just watching you sleep.  I’m scared if I go to sleep you’ll be gone when I wake up.”

Nick pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, down to his jaw.  He wrapped his arms around Milo and pulled him to his chest, a hand running up the back of his neck up to his hair, guiding his head to rest against his shoulder as they closed the space between them.

“I’ll be right here.”  Nick promised.  He felt the way Milo melted against the touch, his curls soft underneath Nick's fingers.  “I’ll be right here when you wake up, you won’t ever wake up back there.  Ever.”

Milo nodded against his shoulder, taking a slow, deep breath.  He hugged Nick back, burying his face into the crook of his neck.  He could hear the sound of the pantry door slamming closed, the floorboards creaking, a fridge opening.  The house was slowly coming to life in the late morning, but the pair only focused on each other in those quiet moments.  They both let themselves drift somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, just aware enough to be aware of each other.  Warm breath against skin, the occasional kiss against the shoulder or jaw, a hand sliding over a hip to pull the other close.  It was all a whisper of communication through touch, something neither of them shied away from.  It was a whisper that spoke louder than any words they could say, sometimes.

I’ll never let you wake up somewhere you’re scared

--

taglist

@haro-whumps@simplygrimly@insanitywishes@lonesome--hunter@deluxewhump@elisabethrosewrites@insanitywishes@iaminamoodymoodtoday @bleeding-demon-teeth @lumpofwhump@redstainedsocks @redstainedsocks @finder-of-rings @insomniacscoprio @inaridriscoll @rosesareviolentlyread @insanitywishes

[spiderman-homecomeme]

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now)

🎄The Twelve Days of Promptmas🎄 - Day Ten

concepts: baking, cold sleepy cuddles, holiday smut ❆❆❆

Peter’s mind buzzes as he fumbles with the sack of flour, nearly spilling it all over the counter as he trips over his own feet. He feels as if he’s in one of those dumb infomercials—“there’s got to be a better way!”—when he opens the top cupboard and he’s immediately pelted with the box of disorganized seasonings and extracts. There’s a sense of relief when he manages to catch the red, green, and blue food coloring before it hits the ground, though the feeling fades into a mild panic when he can’t remember if the recipe MJ had sent him called for baking soda or baking powder.

It also does not help that his hands might be the tiniest bit sweaty. 

So he’s a little nervous for some reason. It’s fine. It happens to everyone when they invite their best friend over for some holiday baking. 

Just some casual, friendly holiday baking. 

Sure, Ned’s not coming, but that doesn’t mean that this is any different, right?

Right?

So why does his heart skip one or two beats when MJ sends him a text that says she’s five minutes away?

It’s strange. 

MJ’s great, she really is. She’s smart, funny, just an all around cool, amazing, good person. The best that he knows. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous around her. Yeah, she can be a little mysterious, closed-off even, but as he’s gotten to know her, he’s seen glimpses of that soft, gooey person that’s inside. 

Yet, even with all of that, lately Peter’s been feeling the exact opposite of “at ease” around her. His stomach always feels like it’s training for the olympics when she’s around, his brain going all fuzzy anytime she talks to him, like he’s stood up way too fast. 

It’s the exact feeling he gets when he hears a knock at the front door. 

And again, he nearly spills sugar all over the tile. 

His body’s kind enough to carry him to the door, and he takes a deep breath, gathering himself before opening it. “Heyyyy.” 

He mentally kicks himself for being so weird. 

“Hey,” she gives a single wave, lips pressing together into a thin, casual smile. “You ready?”

Nodding quickly, he swallows, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” 

He stays like that a moment, his eyes unconsciously taking her in—her soft-looking hoodie, the cozy looking joggers, her black converse. 

“Uh… can I come in?”

Peter immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was in, huffing out a laugh as he steps aside. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry.”

She gives another small smile and a single nod, walking past him, her hands twiddling together. 

It’s odd, Peter offhandedly thinks, as they walk into the kitchen, as they each put on one of his old hand-me-down aprons from May and Ben, how quiet she’s being. Of course, MJ’s not normally a loud person, by any means, but there’s usually a lot more snark when it comes to anything Peter does. 

He’s especially surprised when she only lets out a quiet snort when he drops one of the bowls in his haste to get everything out and ready. 

She’s still quiet as she whips out her phone, pulling up the recipe, lips twisting in thought as she scrolls. “Wow, I’m so glad that this lady decided to tell us about the time her sister smashed her gingerbread house before telling us the recipe,” she deadpans, though the corner of her lip quicks upward into a slight grin. “Every cookie recipe needs a good backstory.”

Peter snorts. “If there’s no plot, what’s the point? What’s the motivation?”

He feels MJ’s gaze drift up to him from behind her phone, and he can see her smile growing from the corner of his eye. 

For some odd reason, it’s enough to make his ears burn. 

A beat passes, neither of them saying anything as MJ continues to read and scroll through the recipe, Peter absentmindedly twiddling with the rim of the mixing bowl. 

The silence is broken when she clears her throat, her hand moving to smooth over the back of her neck, resting there. “So, um—I guess uh, preheat the oven to 375. And… Prepare baking sheets by lining with parchment paper,” she reads. 

Peter nods, inside of his lip caught between his teeth as he turns to the oven, a slight jitter to his movements as he presses the appropriate buttons. “What next?” He asks, as if he’s just completed the hardest part, grabbing an old cookie sheet from the cabinet beside the oven.

MJ cracks a smile, though it fades quickly when she goes back to the recipe, reading off the list of dry ingredients for them to mix together. The bowl is too small at first—a lapse in Peter’s judgement of what small means—a few patches of flour spilling out onto the counter when his overexcited mixing gets the best of him. The light teasing that MJ throws his way makes his heart do backflips, his stomach leap up into his chest. 

It’s the strangest sensation that he’s starting to not really mind all that much. 

MJ mixes the butter, brown sugar, and egg in one of the bigger bowls, tongue sticking out between her lips as she wrangles the electric mixer, deep in concentration when they add in the molasses and vanilla; it’s a look that Peter offhandedly thinks is very cute.

Especially with the bit of flour dusting her nose when they start to add the dry ingredients. 

And it’s even cuter when they start cutting out the shapes in the dough, the Hanukkah cookie cutter set he’d gotten from May when he’d first moved in finally getting good use. There’s only one man, and they grab for it at the same time, both of them yanking their hands back when their knuckles brush. 

MJ takes it, smiling quietly. 

It seems like all of these feelings should feel new, given that he’s only just now noticing them. But, in a weird way, they feel nothing like that. Almost the exact opposite. Like they’ve been around forever and he’s just never thought too much about them, whatever they are. 

It’s more confusing than anything. 

Especially when, after getting the cookies in the oven, and they start mixing the icing together, MJ’s hit with a bold streak, swiping her blue-icing covered thumb over his forehead when he’s busy mixing his own bowl. 

“Simbaaaaaa,” she says, her voice comically low and raspy—her best Rafiki impression. 

“Hey!” Peter jumps away from her, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as he holds in hands up in self-defense. “What the hell?!”

“You got a little something—” she gestures to her own forehead, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. 

He feels his own smile nearly take over his entire face, feeling a challenge flaring in his chest when he dips the tip of his finger into his own icing bowl, booping her on the nose before she can dodge him. 

“Hey—”

“You got a little something,” he says, mocking her from two seconds before, unable to keep his smile from growing even more. There’s a giddiness in his stomach, and he feels as if he’s lighter than air itself when she laughs at him. 

MJ’s so cool, he can’t help but think. 

And pretty. 

Peter shakes his head when she doesn’t look away, and he wipes at his forehead, trying unsuccessfully to get the sticky blue off of him. 

“You’ve still got some—right there,” she gestures to herself again. “Do you want me to get it?” She asks, a jitteriness to her tone as she lets out a chuckle. “I can lick it off.”

Peter’s sure that his face is every shade of red at this point. He nearly chokes on nothing, and he suddenly finds that he’s lost all ability to speak as he stares at her with furrowed brows, thoroughly dumbfounded. 

“I’m kidding,” she says quickly, laughing it off, looking back down at her hands, stained blue and green from the dye in the food coloring. “Jeez, Parker.” 

There’s a hint of something to her tone, but he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is; maybe nerves, maybe the awkwardness from him literally not saying anything at all in response. He’s not sure. 

And he tries to brush it off as they clean up while they wait for the cookies to finish baking. A quiet falls between them, both pleasant and at the same time wildly uncomfortable. He clears his throat, placing the mixing bowl in the sink, his focus as he scrubs the dough from the sides failing. 

When he turns around and catches her eye, his heart skips as she snorts at the sight of him, blue icing still caked onto his forehead. 

“God, okay, let me get that,” she huffs out, grabbing a paper towel. He can almost smell the soft lavender notes of her shampoo when she leans over him to wet the paper towel in the sink. It’s dizzying, he finds, especially when she smiles at him as she wipes across his forehead. And he finds when her eyes meet his, he can’t look away, drawn in. He offhandedly thinks how pretty her eyes are, how soft they look, even when they’re teasing him.  

“There,” she says, giving him one last, playful, less than gentle pat on the forehead. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, still seemingly lost in his trance, blinking slowly. “You’ve uh—you’ve still got some. On your nose.” 

And almost disappointingly, she wipes it off herself with the same paper towel. 

Why he’s disappointed, he has no idea. 

MJ’s quick to change the subject—or, start one—before he can even think of anything to say. She’s warmed up by now, less tense, though there’s still a jitter to her movements, a certain breathiness to her laugh that makes the butterflies in his stomach seem to kick into overdrive. 

And it’s a back and forth as they start decorating the cookies—after they’ve cooled, of course. MJ wouldn’t let him anywhere near them when she’d taken them out of the oven. 

“What did you do to that Menorah?” She asks him through a laugh as he struggles to even out the too-big dollop of icing he’d put on his first cookie. 

“I’m not good at this, okay?” He laughs back, letting out a comically quiet scream when the icing drips down onto his hand. He does a double-take though, looking at her cookie. 

A man with a too-big, borderline dumb smile, eyes nearly on opposite sides of the cookie, wearing all red and blue. “What is that?”

“It’s you,” she says with a toothy grin, as if it’s obvious. “Do you like it?”

“Why does he look like that?” Peter finds himself laughing more. 

“I think he’s cute,” she says simply. 

Peter nearly short-circuits, but he honestly has no response. At all. 

Because she can’t mean what he thinks she means, right? No. Absolutely not. MJ’s calling the cookie cute. Get your shit together, Parker. 

He does feel her glance at him a few times after that comment, almost as if she’s waiting to see if he’ll say anything. Then again, that’s literally just his brain making him think that, making him see and feel things. Obviously. 

There’s no way MJ likes him like that. 

And it doesn’t even matter really. They’re just friends. 

Just some good pals. 

The cookies are even more delicious than they’d smelled, and Peter finds himself caught up in just how cozy and safe it feels to be eating gingerbread cookies with his best friend, even when said best friend pointedly bites off the bottom half of the cookie that supposed to look like him. She can’t keep a straight face, though, nearly choking on the gingerbread when he snorts, crumbs flying. 

“Gross,” she says through her mouthful, unable to keep herself from laughing. 

Peter finally swallows, struggling to get a word out. “You started it!” 

They turn on some documentary—though, if he’s being honest, Peter’s finding that he can’t pay much attention to it. He keeps wanting to look at Michelle, glancing at her every few seconds. It’s a sight that makes his whole body flood with warmth, seeing her curled up on the other end of his couch, absently munching on a cookie as she stares at the screen. 

There’s a moment where she catches him looking at her, the corners of her lips twitching into a quick smile when they both immediately look away. 

Peter swears he can feel his heart beating in his ears. 

Though he has no idea when he started feeling this way about her, this weird nervousness, he now realizes how not new it is. He’s always thought Michelle was cool. That she was smart. That she was funny. That she was so pretty. 

But if he’s always thought this, then why is this… realization suddenly hitting him like a train? Why is it that he can’t even look at her without his stomach wanting to jump right out of his body? Why when every time she so much as talks to him is he smiling like a damn idiot? 

Why now?

And then, it dawns on him when she looks over at him, her lips pressing into a shy smile before quickly looking back at the TV, curling her legs to her chest more. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well, shit.

There’s been a number of time’s where Peter’s questioned his own intelligence. Sure, he’s good at school—ignoring the late and missing assignments—he’s made his own web formula. 

But, fuck, he’s a dumbass. 

Because he’s been stupidly, deliriously, ridiculously in love with his best friend and he’s only just now realized it. 

He’s lost track of time by the end of the documentary, barely registering as the credits roll, and they sit there, neither one saying a thing. Peter feels the awkwardness—again, not entirely the worst thing, for some reason—creeping up his neck. He jumps up from the couch, needing something, anything to do. 

With this new realization, Peter feels almost more nervous, terrified of doing something stupid like exposing himself. 

It’s almost midnight by the time they finish putting the cookies away, saving the rest for later, of course. 

MJ stretches her hands above her head, moving them down to hold herself. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says, her voice soft, tired. 

Peter nods, pressing his lips together, leaning on the counter. “Yeah…” 

Neither of them move. 

“I should probably go…” She trails off, rocking back on her heels, though she still doesn’t make any kind of move to the door. She looks out the window, groaning at the sight of the heavy snow falling. She huffs out a nervous laugh, her eyes meeting his expectantly. “It’s so cold though.”

“I could… lend you a coat? Or something?” He can’t help but cough into his arm, glancing around the apartment as his lips curve into a shaky smile. 

MJ seems to get a kick out of that. “Nah. ‘Cause then I’ll have to give it back… and then I’d just end up keeping it.”

There’s nothing that can stop the faint dusting of pink on Peter’s cheeks as he thinks about he wouldn’t mind that at all. 

After a beat, however, Peter’s brow furrows in concern, altogether missing the way she’s looking at him. “Did you walk here?”

She purses her lips. “Yeah.” 

“I—” Peter clears his throat, not wanting to seem to eager at the idea of her staying. “I could call you an Uber?” 

She shakes her head, brow pinched. “No. No, that’s fine. Then I’d have to pay you back.”

“Yeah, you’d probably forget that, too,” Peter finds himself teasing. 

“Hey!”

“Kidding…” Peter clears his throat, biting back his smile. 

A beat passes again where neither say anything, the two of them awkwardly shifting on their feet as they wait for the other to speak. 

Peter’s the first to break. “I mean, if you want, you could… stay here. Wait the storm out.” It feels like it takes about five-hundred years to get those words out, and even longer when MJ’s eyes meet his. And it’s not his best idea, given he’s just figured out he’s in love with her. Having her in such close proximity overnight seems like the las thing he should do. 

But he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“When it’s not so… cold.”

Her fingers drum against the other side of the counter, the inside of her lip caught between her teeth. 

“Good point,” she finally replies. 

Peter breathes out a smile, finding himself relieved, though he’d never admit to it. “So…” He clears his throat again, disguising it behind a cough into his arm. “Sleepover?” He asks lamely. 

MJ’s expression breaks, and she snorts out a laugh, a sound he wants to hear over and over again. 

It goes quiet again though, MJ seeming to be deep in thought before she says anything again. 

“I hope it’s okay, though…” She glances left and right, a tint of insecurity in her gaze. “I like to sleep without pants on. If that’s cool… with you.”

And for a moment, Peter wonders if he’s died, or if he’s having a really vivid, cruel dream. He’s short circuited for a split-second; getting any kind of sentence out is damn near impossible. He blinks. Once. Twice. 

“Um—” He finds himself saying, though he has no idea where that thought is going. “I mean. Whatever. Makes you… more comfortable. I guess?” He huffs out a nervous laugh, the idea of sharing a bed with a very pantsless MJ drilling it’s way into his brain. 

There’s a minuscule upward twitch of her lips as she looks at him. 

“I can take the couch,” Peter says dumbly, and instantly, he’s mentally kicking himself. 

But it’s for good reason. 

MJ needs to be comfortable. 

She doesn’t feel the same way, and he doesn’t want to push himself on her. He doesn’t ever plan on telling her how he feels, so there’s no reason to make this any more difficult for either of them. 

“And you can take my bed?”

He doesn’t see the way her expression falls ever so slightly. 

“Oh—” Her head jerks back slightly, mouth tugging into a faint frown. “I mean. Sure. I guess.” 

Peter only nods, feeling his shoulders squeezing up to his ears, every muscle in his body tight. He nearly trips over himself as he walks past her, leading her to his bedroom. She only throws him a fleeting smile as he pulls out a spare t-shirt for her to wear—what friends do—leaving just as quickly as he’d come into the room. 

In his haste to get her out of his sight, he’s forgotten to grab his own pajamas. Or blankets. Or pillows. 

Oh well. 

It’s not like he’s going to walk back into that bedroom. That would be the most dangerous thing he could possibly do. 

But then, as he lays down on the couch in just his boxers and his shirt that still has a few flour stains on it, his brain decides to bring back the cruel thought, the tempting image of Michelle in his bed. Without pants on. 

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He’s an adult. Not some hormonal teen anymore. 

But everytime he closes his eyes, he can just see so vividly, and he can’t help but wonder what she’s wearing—

No. 

Bad Peter. 

That’s your friend. 

Stop that. 

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to rid his mind of the idea of her long, bare legs tangled in his sheets. 

Damn it!

It feels like the entire night’s passed by the time he opens his eyes again, only to realize that it’s only been thirty minutes. He huffs, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. It’s a fruitless endeavor, he knows, trying to fall asleep. He knows that as long as MJ’s in his room, there’s no way he’ll have any sort of peace. 

He debates getting up and checking the cabinets in his bathroom for some melatonin or maybe even benadryl, when the floor at the entry to the hallway creaks. “Peter?”

He jolts upright, looking over the back of the couch to see MJ standing in the archway, the Stark Internship shirt he’d loaned her just reaching the tops of her thighs. 

One wrong move, and he’d definitely see what she’s wearing. 

He swallows, whispering a pathetic, “hey.”

“Uh, hey,” she responds breathily. “So… It’s like… really cold in your room.”

“Yeah?” Peter sits up more, the throw blanket pooling at his hips as he rubs his eyes. “Do you want like an extra blanket or… something?”

She shifts on her feet, her hands toying with the hem of the t-shirt, Peter finding his eyes instantly drawn to the movement. 

He drags his gaze back up to meet her face. 

“I was actually—uh… wondering if you could just come get in bed?” 

He wants to say that all the blood’s left his body, but it’s honestly gone in two different directions. His face, and… well.

A faint, nervous chuckle spills out of him as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It’s a terrible idea, saying yes, but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from nodding silently and getting up from the couch. “Another blanket would… would probably be too much.”

A wavy smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah. Exactly.”

It’s strictly for that purpose, he reasons with himself. MJ’s cold. She needs another body next to her. Nothing more. No, sir. 

And it stays that way in his mind as he crawls in next to her, as they turn to face each other, their knees barely brushing one another’s. It’s dark, but he’s close enough that he can just make out the soft curls on her forehead, the slight uptick of her lips as she looks at him. 

It surprises him when she scoots just the slightest bit closer, the way she tilts toward him. A shiver ripples through her. 

“Still cold?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

A light chuckle bubbles up out of her. “Yeah. Could you—” 

“Do you want me to hold you?” He asks before he can even think. 

She laughs again, a breathy, borderline nervous sound.

And he’s frozen solid, a ringing in his ears, unable to move as she nestles against him, his arms wrapping around her. He has no idea what else to do, every muscle in his body tensing when she breathes out, and he knows then that this is where he’ll be the entire night. No sleep. 

His eyes squeeze shut, and he tries not to concentrate on the feeling of her bare legs slotting against his, the warmth of her skin making his brain go all fuzzy. 

“Is this… Is this better?” He asks, clearing his throat again. 

She hums into him, and he can almost feel her smile into his chest. But she pulls back slightly, twisting so that she’s on her back and he’s propped up above her. “Almost,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving his. 

“Are you sure you don’t want another blanket? I can—”

His words are cut off as she leans up to press her lips to his, her hand gently resting on his cheek. 

It’s brief, barely five seconds, before she pulls away, biting at the inside of her lip. 

Peter’s barely had time to process it; the softness of her lips, the warmth of her hand on his cheek. But it hits him in a dizzying flurry as she looks up at him, eyes sparkling, a glint of vulnerability in them as she waits for his response. 

“What?” Is all he can ask, breathing out a giddy laugh. 

“Was that okay?”

Peter’s smile widens. “God, yeah. But I mean—I’m just… Um… I’m a little surprised.”

Even in the dark of the room, Peter can see the way her face contorts. “Surprised? How?”

And then, it’s Peter’s turn to be confused. Was he not supposed to be? 

“Uh… I don’t know it just kinda… came out of nowhere. Again—” He breathes out a chuckle. “—Not a bad thing. At all.”

She stares at him for a few seconds. She blinks. “Peter, I’ve been throwing myself at you this whole night.” 

He almost falls off the bed. “What?!” He hisses.

“I thought I was being obvious,” she says, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. When he does nothing but stare at her in shock, she shrugs. “I was.”

“The… I—what? You…?” He laughs. “How?” 

“Well—” Her fingers drum over the blanket. “—the icing fight was kinda classic flirty shit. Eating the gingerbread version of you that I said was cute.” 

“I thought you were threatening me,” he quips. 

“Who says I wasn’t?” She deapans, though he doesn’t miss the way the corner of her lips twitch upward. A beat passes. She blows a puff of air through her lips. “I mean, I dunno, I thought for sure you’d get the message when I said I slept without pants on.” 

Pursing his lips, Peter nods slowly. “I did not.” 

The silence afterward breaks when MJ lets out a sudden snicker. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter scoffs to himself, covering his eyes. “God.” 

MJ’s hand falls on his shoulder, gently—yet stiffly—patting him. “There, there,” she says. He can hear the smile in her voice. “I still think you’re cute,” she adds quietly. “So there’s that.” 

He peeks out from behind his hands, unable to bite back his smile. “I’m a cute idiot?” 

Her smile widens, even as she presses her lips together to keep it from growing. She reaches out, smoothing down his curls that had fallen onto his forehead. 

“The cutest idiot.” 

And as gross and sickly sweet as it is, Peter never wants this to end. 

But when she leans in to kiss him again, he doesn’t mind. Not at all. 

Her lips are soft against his, gentle and wanting. Her hand falls to his cheek, moving to cup his jaw as his arms coil around her waist, pulling himself closer as he leans over her. It feels like a dream, the warmth of her skin under the fabric of his t-shirt, the soft sighs she lets out as he deepens the kiss, and there’s a pang in his chest when he wonders if he’ll wake up from this, cold and alone. 

But he knows it’s real. All of it. All of her. 

His hand falls to her hip, slipping just underneath the hem of her shirt to draw soft lines into her skin. “MJ,” he says simply, breaking the kiss only for his lips to find a spot on the underside of her jaw. “I like you. So much.” 

He hears her breathy laugh, a sound that makes his heart skip. “I like you, too. So much.”

And he grins against her neck, lips and tongue dragging back up to meet hers again in a searing kiss. Though the room is cold, there’s nothing but warmth underneath the blanket, under her touch, and he thinks that he could stay here forever. 

Goodbye college. 

Goodbye anything that’s not this bed and MJ.

It’s been a whirlwind; for one, realizing these feelings only just a few hours ago, and now he’s kissing her. His head’s spinning, slowly finding himself getting more and more addicted to the feel of her soft skin under his fingers and palms as they smooth down over her behind, along her bare thigh, drinking every inch of her in. 

The sound of her moan against his mouth causes a flooding rush in his brain, the heat pooled in the pit of his stomach to burn, and he’d give anything to hear it again. His hand travels up the inside of her thigh, settling on her stomach, thumb resting on the trim of her cotton underwear. 

She breathes in sharply, her muscles twitching underneath him. And he breaks away, muttering an apology into her lips. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she breathes back, and he can feel her smile against his lips as she pulls him back down. “I’m cold.” 

It’s at the moment that he wonders if his heart will actually burst through his ribs with the way it’s pounding against them. He laughs breathily before eagerly kissing her, his fingers toying with the waistband of her panties. It almost makes him chuckle again when she subtly raises her hips, encouraging him, but he holds back, still not able to keep from smiling against her as his hands moves to cup her over the fabric of her underwear. 

It’s so dizzying, how much warmer she is where his hand holds her, the heat radiating from her, and he has to screw his eyes shut to concentrate, beginning to draw slow lines up and down her center over the thin, damp cotton. 

She sighs shakily against him, her head falling back, breaking the kiss as his lips find a home on the underside of her jaw. He brings her closer to him, nestled into his chest as he continues his ghost-like touches. 

When his fingers finally brush over her clit, she sucks in a breath, one of her hands coming to comb through his curls. 

He’s achingly slow as he circles the bundle of nerves through the fabric, matching the relaxed rhythm with his kisses on her neck. He knows he could go faster, that he could just get a move on, and judging from the way MJ’s grip in his hair tightens when he increases his pressure, she does, too. 

But this moment is one he wants to stay in. To savor. He wants to pack up everything he owns and live in it. 

But he also knows that his self-control might not last that long. 

Again, for the nth time that night, he finds himself smiling, both at her soft whines as he picks up his speed and at the way her hand falls to cling to his shoulder. He can hear in how her breath hitches and quickens, feel how her muscles start to twitch underneath him, how she stiffens, that she’s close. 

And right at that moment, he pulls away. 

“Peter—” 

Her whine is cut off by his hand dipping under the waistband of her underwear, finally touching her. Her mouth hangs open, a choked gasp spilling from her as he dips his fingers into her entrance, gathering her arousal and swirling it over her sensitive clit, and he can’t help but groan into her neck, feeling how wet she is. 

How wet she is for him. 

Her back arches as she pushes herself into him, his pace on her clit quickening when she moans out his name. And he murmurs hers back, his soft kisses on her skin a contrast to his feverish touches as he eagerly works her heat. 

His fingers dip down again to her entrance, teasing faint circles before he slides one in, his eyes once again screwing shut at the warmth, at the feeling of her clenching around him. He works a steady pace, pumping his finger in and out, smiling at her wet gasp when he pushes a second one in, instinctively curling them as he glides through her wetness. Her grip on his shoulder tightens even more, nails digging as he finds that perfect spot inside her. 

But then, when he feels her getting close again, he stops, and he wonders if she might hit him by the way she groans in frustration. Still, he smiles—cheekily—as he grabs the hand on his shoulder, guiding it down to her center. 

“Can you touch yourself?” He asks, his tone too innocent for such a request, and he knows it. 

MJ finds it in herself to laugh, shaking her head and closing her eyes as her hand sneaks under the waistband of her underwear and starts toying with her clit.

And for a moment, in all honesty, Peter almost forgets that he’s a part of this, too entranced in watching her face as she touches herself. 

But then, he remembers. A true gentlemen, he peels her underwear from her legs, helping her kick them off before sneaking his hand down again to play with the wetness at her entrance, drowning his fingers in it. An airy smile tugs at her lips when he pushes his two fingers back in, languidly pumping in and out of her. 

“Teamwork,” he mutters dumbly into her neck. 

Her laugh is a beautiful sound, but it’s broken by a low moan when Peter’s fingers curl inside of her, her eyes screwing shut as she matches her pace on her clit with his buried in her cunt. 

“That’s it, MJ,” he whispers hotly as she clenches around him, her muscles fluttering, feeling her teetering on the edge as her thighs start to close around his hand. He watches her expression for a moment, seeing it building and building, before moving to capture her lips into a heated, messy kiss. It’s clumsy, all tongue and teeth as her high climbs. 

And she comes with a loud cry, breaking the kiss, her other hand clinging to him for dear life, nails digging into his skin as her muscles flex and twitch. Her breathing is ragged as she comes down, her hand on her clit moving to grab his working her heat. She holds his hand for a moment, leaning up to kiss him again. 

It’s slower, yet just as hungry. 

Peter moves to wipe his hand on his boxers before placing it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her skin as he kisses her. 

When they break apart, she pushes her forehead against his, smiling dreamily. 

“Still cold?” Peter asks, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is that better?”

She huffs out a breathy laugh, planting another quick kiss on his smile. She curls further into him, nuzzling into his neck, her breath tickling. 

“Much better.”