#Adhesive backing patches

[anielskaaniela]

How to Sew a Patch on a Hat - Easy Sewing Tutorial

In this post, you will learn how to sew a patch on a hat in super easy way. Love what you see ? Support me by snagging some cool items from my shop! Every purchase helps me bring you more awesome content. Thank you! Shop Now Adding custom patches to a hat is a great way to personalize your accessories, whether it’s a baseball cap, trucker hat, or knit cap. This tutorial will guide you through…

[technicolorxsn]

wuh oh I mightve fucked up my jacket

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[writingoddess1125]

To the Frontlines

Kofi Request - Possible pt. 2 if they want to continue

If you want NSFW (5$) or SFW (2$) like this click here helps me be less of a broke bitch

Alpha König x Omega GNReader

Also Not doing the Medic thing! We can do better then that people!

Your scent used is based off this perfume! (Psss It's the stuff Rihanna wears ;3 I'll always hook ya up with a dupe too! Here)

Slow, Funny and Sweet Baby! No Warnings

It was the sound of the wonderful 4:30 am wakeup call that forced your eyes open, once more while it was dark out and everyone felt groggy.

Rolling up quickly from your bunk you saw the wave of the other few omegas in the space also get up- as they shuffle quickly to get to the showers and dress for the day.

It was fortunate at least that the Omega sectioned off barracks had its own spaces and there wasn't a lot of you so there was room for you all to at least separate out some, allowing some who needed it to nest or just to create general spacing.

Even if you had to fight over the 9 or so other irritated omegas you had the pleasure of sharing the space with to the showers- Always the unpleasant mix of scents washing over the washroom that made it smell like a candle from hell.

You quick to jump into the showers, hoping to catch the little hot water left and dress even faster. The assault of scents however soon started to disappear by the scent neutralizing patches all Omegas were required to wear being slapped onto everyone.

Sure it was encouraged for all those who had a secondary gender to wear scent patches to make sure grounds were neutral and no adverse effects. However in truth it was mainly enforced on the Omegas, not bothering to enforce it on the other half cause- Well fuck you I guess.

Slapping on the patches for the day you can't help but sigh, feeling already the uncomfortable chaff of the adhesive-

Was it fair?

No-

Where you going to challenge it?

Hell No-

They paid you and told you to scram to do your job.. And well they paid very well so you had no problem with taking this L.

You feel a tap to your shoulder as you button up your coat turning to see your bunk buddy and the closest person here on base looking at you.

Aaron was a stocky rather tall fellow, Pretty however- dark curly hair, pretty hazel eyes and dark brown skin. Most would assume a beta however they would be wrong by the damn near assault of roses, coffee and sugar when he took of those patches. He giving you a sarcastic smile as he held out the second paper cup shaking it playfully.

"Here are your suppressants sexy-"

"Oh thank you bestie, What did you spit in it?"

"Only a little-" He winked, The two of you smile and laugh a little taking the issued suppressants as you toss both your little cups in the trash. These where some of the few fun moments you got in your job here at KorTac, Breakfast which was always a bit more special since your bestie was behind the counter and the few moments before you are stationed in the big steel weapons box you call your job.

You'd never see combat, but as one of the weapon technicians you did the work for those who did. Which was as boring as it sounded- even with the charmer that was your sergeant always liking to talk down to you and most people in the little hellhole you all shared.

As if on cue a box of weapons where set down Infront of you, Still reeking of rotting blood. Looking up at your sergeant getting the morning scowl you were so used to at this point.

"Box for the day-"

"Thank you Sgt. Vega.."

You can only mumble as you start to pull out each item, mindful of the aftermath of whatever battle they had seen. Oh if those checks didn't have quite a few zeros behind them you were sure you'd have walked out of here by now...

Cleaning each blade, taking apart each pistol as you cleaned, put it all back together then tweaked it to work perfectly. Then chucking it into a bag or box depending on who it was getting sent to.

Day in and day out, Shuffling through the stacks of deadly metal. As the next box was set down Infront of you, already seeing the large rifle sticking out clearly ignoring any sort of gun safety and just ready to meet you-

"Is that a gun or just happy to see me hm?"

Dryly smiling to your own lackluster little joke, Quick to work you start to take apart the rifle- It only taking a soft roll in your palm as you recognize it immediately as 'That One'

Glancing next to your station leaned against you confirmed- bloody sledgehammer. There was always one bag of weapons that was always assigned to you. Seemingly whoever it was being picky and preferring one set of hands on their things..

You didn't have a clue who they were- however the fact that there was a sledgehammer included with the weapons made you not willing or wanting to find out...

But honestly this bag wasn't all bad really- Actually one of your favorites.

Especially since you got at least small moments of catching a fairly nice scent of what seemed to be and alpha on it. It was faint of course, Under the oil, the smell of blood and bullets. A nice spicy, fruit and booze smell- with a bit of vanilla. It reminded you of the nice festive alcohol you'd find in a store around the holidays.

However it was always short lived, especially since you had to clean it. Sad but as is life-

Whistling a bit to yourself you go through the bag, taking the extra time to get everything a bit more organized then what you'd so for the extra bags you had.

As you're finishing up the rifle you heart Sgt, Vega scream out to you.

"(Y/N)! I need that bag ready!"

"But, I just got it!-" You're cut off quickly by her shrill voice.

"Now!-"

"Son of a- Sorry I'm coming! God damn-"

You're fast to finish up your task cursing under your breath, checking the sight and making sure every screw and fastening was perfect. Looking it over quickly you jump up, feeling the snag on your wrist on the rifle, however quick to rush to the metal window of the armory where your boss is.

"Got it"

You mumble, Handing off the bag and hammer to your sergeant the women glaring at you for daring to make her wait as she walked out with the laundry list of weapons to deliver herself.

As you head back to your station you see where your wrist snagged, a small rip in the patch probably caught on the sight since it had been the last thing you'd touched- Changing out the patch from your wrist mildly annoyed now you return to your station mumbling under your breath.

Non the wiser at the snowball you had started...

On the other side of the base far from the were you continued to work. König sat in his office, his large form hunched over the stacks files on his desk as he looked over the details of his upcoming mission, Grumbling in his native language over the details listed as he bounced his leg slightly in thought.

A soft knock snapping him from his thoughts- Already smelling the Sergeant from the armory before she walked into the office as gently as possible.

"Colonel, I have yo-"

"Leave them there. You're dismissed Sergeant. "

He didn't even bother glancing up nor letting her finish her sentence, gesturing to the spot he always had them put it and waving her off just as fast. Already feeling the clear upset from the sergeant as she did as asked- König waiting till he heard that door close did he look up, sighing a bit to himself.

König was not in a good mood- and while he normally would have humored the women at least someone who had very clearly hinted she was willing to climb his 'corporate ladder'- He didn't feel like it today.

His nerves were a bit shot, wound up and he felt ready to snap his teeth at anyone if they came across his path at this point. Flexing his hands he looked to the bag in the corner spot.

It was a small ritual he had before missions. Something that allowed his mind to settle a bit.

He'd always look over each item in his office. A bit of paranoia and anxiety in the idea of someone possibly handing him poor items before he went out to whatever dangerous mission he was thrown into. That and it just gave him something to fidget with..

However he had started to be more lax about it.

It was clear most of the time it was the same hand doing his repairs, the sight to his liking, cleaned well and it was set up always the same in his bag. He still checked them of course but it was more for comfort.

Sliding over the bag he started his little ritual, humming a bit as he checked each item that would go into his vest or hands. Each gun, knife, the sledgehammer he sported on his back. Finally the rifle which he looked over- As he went to slide it back something caught his nose on the gun in hand.

His head twitched to the side a bit-

König rolled the empty rifle in his palm slowly looking it over, narrowing his eyes a bit as he saw on the corner a bit of white, clearly a part of a patch that managed to snag deep enough. Grabbing it between his fingers he rolled it a bit, Catching the scent once again between his warmed fingers.

He had to swallow the literal growl that wanted to erupt from his throat then and there.

Quickly pulling his mask up almost frantic he breathed it the tiny strip of gauze far more deeply exhaling softly to let the taste settle on his tongue.

Almost Peachy, Light flowers, Marshmallows and a bit of citrus.

Oh it was divine..

"Scheiße.."

He mumbled, eyes almost rolling at the tiny scratch of gauze. It made his mouth water, chest flutter and that feral part of his brain scratch at the walls he had long since locked up.

Truthfully it had been been quite some years he'd even gotten a scratch at that inner Alpha, Being jacked on enough suppressants to kill a bear at this point so he wasn't much of a liability- Sure the characteristics still were there however the need to fall into that mindset of wanting to mark, breed and so forth had been locked up behind pills shaped bars.

It had even been years really since he'd even sleep with an omega, let alone feel so undone by anyone.. All his conquest had always been either alphas or tough and tumble betas. Someone sturdy and easy to let go at a moments notice.

But this was different..

He ran his tongue over his sharpened teeth, jaw twitching purely by the thought of whoever this scent belonged to- really just soaking it in. König couldn't help but chuckle darkly under his breath. This little thing was managing to break nearly 20 or so years of suppressed instincts in minutes.

'Impressive little Omega..'

Racking through his brain a little as he continued to roll the fabric between his fingers. Letting the scent linger for as long as he could as he thought quietly to himself, looking at the weapons with a crooked smile-

"Interesting.."

[aheathen-conceivably]

The makings of a library were whirling to life around Zelda. For now, it was filled with the sounds of a construction zone - hammers striking, heavy boots stomping, the rough voices of a dozen men filling their work day with crude jokes and whistled radio tunes. Somehow, even amidst the noise and dusty work, Zelda’s voice was loud enough to be heard. 

“Well the collection should be here by the end of the month so proceed with the shelving first. We can retrofit the fixings in the bathroom after that, but that way we won’t have to find a place for the books while it’s being done.”

The foreman nodded his head, mentally adding every word she spoke onto the ever growing to-do list in his hand. “And place an order for the wallpaper in the children’s room. If we want it done by opening it will need to ship by Monday, and I know their deadline is at the end of the week. We’ll need six rolls if my count is correct.”

The foreman nodded, moving his pen to jot down her order when she noticed Alexander approaching. Seeing him, Zelda gestured back toward the list they had been writing, anticipating that the foreman would want to inquire with Alexander about how to proceed as well. Instead Alexander waved his hand slightly, nodding at her as he spoke. “No, no. Don’t let me interrupt.”

She turned back in the foreman’s direction, his eyebrow still slightly raised and an empty line next to the amount of wallpaper he needed to ordered. For a moment she thought to look back at Alexander, but even with him standing there she realized that the foreman was looking to her for confirmation. 

“Yes. It's six rolls. And another quart of adhesion for application.”

His footsteps moved away, joining the noisy hubbub coming from what had once been the silent dining room. Zelda watched as he called out instructions and familiar jokes to the men working there. She had thought that the workers’ presence would disquiet her, disrupting the ghosts and the dust that she had found so mesmerizing when she had first arrived; but with every patched hole and cleaned window, she could feel the life returning to these rooms.

She turned back to Alexander, who had been looking up toward the scaffolding while she was musing. She cleared her throat gently, as they often did to get one another’s attention, and he turned back to her readily. “Oh! Perfect. Will you come with me for a moment? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

She followed him upstairs into the main hall, where work was ongoing for what was to become the children’s room. Layers of old, mildew-worn wallpaper had been stripped to be replaced by new patterns of forest animals and plants, just as her childhood bedroom had once been. They turned just before it, stepping over errant nails and boards as he reached to open the door to a small room. “Your office, Mrs. Duplanchier.”

Her eyes stayed trained on him, somehow a bit in shock after working from whatever clean corner they could find for weeks. “My - my office?”

“Well ours, technically. ‘Library Administration’, but the city has elected for me to keep my space at town hall, so I imagine it shall be mostly yours, if you’re up for the task.”

There wasn’t much to it. A pair of windows, a desk, and a chair that looked like it had been there since 1909. But mostly, it was filled with books that Alexander had transported from town hall one by one, each too rare or old to be moved stacked in boxes or in the back of rented grain trucks.

For no reason in particular, the simplicity of it all gave her confidence.

“I am.”

“Good.” He spoke kindly, walking into the space and absently wiping some dust away from the desk. “It appears that the WPA has taken an interest in the town. They haven’t said anything to the public yet of course, but they’re opening a field office here. They’ve written to me to collect information about potential projects. My primary goal will still be at the library, of course, but there’s alot of good we can do if we direct those federal dollars in the right way.” 

The scale of it all suddenly stupefied Zelda. After weeks of sorting through grant money and federal funds she had thought that she understood the purpose of it all, but when she considered it all in its totality - on a national level - it was beyond her. Bridges and dams. Roads and schools. Projects in the arts and culture. So many lives would be changed; and there was so much to it that even the concept of a field office - here - was enough to send her mind into a tizzy. It was hard to even formulate a full question about it.

“Potential projects?”

“Infrastructure, mostly. At least for now. Roadwork, bridge repair, that sort of thing. They want a list of working men as soon as possible. I’m sure they’ll hire more, but at least a starting few so that when the office opens they can begin right away. If you know of anyone it’s the least I can do to repay the trust you had in this project from the start.”

If you know of anyone. “And the project will be moving forward? You’re certain of it?”

“With surety. They begin work on the first of next month. Although I’m sure they’ll want to train a starting crew before that, so get any names you’d like to me as soon as you can.”

If you know of anyone. Her heart sank at the thought, immediately seeing a face in her mind as she turned to look out the window of her new second story office. Because every morning before work she looked out at her own backyard, just hoping that she would see miracle there. But instead, day after day, she only saw a single pair of slumped shoulders standing amidst the withering crops at sunrise.

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[studioeisa]

KAEEEE congratulations on 1k omg i can't believe i'm just finding out about this now??? i literally thought u had like 10k ndjdnjd your writing is novel worthy i cant believe you aren't running tumblr already 😔

📱 i would pretty pretty please love to hear more about actor jun if u have any thoughts to spare :3 and congrats again!! here's to many more hehe 🎉🫶🏻💓

high praise coming from one of the best writers on caratblr 😳 and i will always give jun to the world's biggest huihui <3 mwaaa!

📱 boyfriend actor!jun x reader (part one, part two). part of my follower milestone celebration. word count: 676.

Jun has started doing his own stunts.

A part of you knows that your fear is misplaced. He’s training with the legendary Jackie Chan, of all people. Your boyfriend is in capable hands.

Still, you can’t help but worry.

It had always been this way even before he dipped his toes into the action genre. Texts of have you eaten? during long shoots. Encouraging Post-It’s snuck into his coat pocket pre-flight. You worry, and you worry, and you worry, and Jun loves you for it. 

He’ll smile at the texts and force himself to eat something small. He’ll keep the notes in his wallet and reread them when he misses the sound of your voice. He lets you fret over him because you give as much as you get, and he would never say ‘no’ to you.

Even if it can be a bit— overbearing, at times. Jun keeps his eye rolls and scoffs to a minimum as you lather his body in efficascent oils, as you slap pain relief patches on his aching joints. 

“Bit of an overkill, no?” he mumbles. His supposed distaste is betrayed by the way he practically preens when you begin to knead at the knots in his shoulders.

You can only sigh at his attempt to be nonchalant. “My boyfriend is an action star,” you say, your teasing tone edged with admiration. It makes Jun want to swoon. “The least I can do is make sure he’s being taken care of.” 

“You can take care of me other ways.” 

“Shut up.” 

“How about you shut me up by—” 

There’s bickering, and teasing, and your fingers dancing along his sides to get him to laugh, to stop flirting. Jun is bone tired and every part of his body hurts, but he’s never tired of you. Nothing ever hurts when it comes to you. 

Jun can be a hypocrite, though. 

You realize this on an unassuming Saturday evening, a rare weekend where the two of you can just stay in. You’re reading a book by the couch while Jun is absentmindedly scrolling through SNS. When you let out a low, unbidden hiss, he’s immediately snapping to attention. 

“Babe?” he calls, his attention leaving the TikTok on his screen. 

“‘S nothing,” you huff. 

Your boyfriend sets aside his phone and leans forward from the other side of the couch, crowding into your space. “Liar,” he says. “What is it?” 

You extend your hand in response. In the low light of your living room, it’s almost invisible, but Jun doesn’t miss it. The raised, reddish skin on your index finger, put there by the corner of your page. 

“It’s just a paper cut,” you’re saying, but Jun isn’t about to have any of that. 

He’s on his feet before you can complain. “Come back here,” you whine. 

His response of “no!” is muffled as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He emerges moments later with your First Aid kit, his eyebrows furrowed with genuine concern and determination. 

“Junhui,” you say exasperatedly. 

He doesn’t listen. When has he ever? He kneels at your side and begins to rummage through the kit, mumbling about antiseptics and cotton balls. 

You two could have been done much faster if you didn’t resist him here and there. By the end of it, though, you compromise to a Sanrio adhesive bandage despite the absence of any blood at all. 

“Be more careful next time,” Jun says as he snaps the kit close. He poses the words as a joke, but you can hear the hint of worry in his tone. (He gives as much as he gets.) 

You close the distance to kiss him, and his expression smooths out at the familiar affection. “Overkill,” you tease, murmuring the words against his mouth.

Jun worries. You love him for it. 

At your peck, his lips curl up into a smile that you can almost taste. He doesn’t answer— just grabs your arms and pulls you down on top of him. You go down squealing, and then you’re both laughing until your sides hurt.

It’s the good kind of hurt, though. 

[tactical-jellyfish]

Tf-141 and cat-like reader

Warnings!: minor injury (not at all serious). I sincerely apologize for starving you guys. Ended up getting sick for a good while like right after the poll and that kind of halted progress on everything temporarily. Inuries!drabble is in progress :)

It's been a few months since you found yourself transferred onto the 141.

Really, you have no issues with it. Your teammates are good enough, willing to let you do your own thing as long as it doesn't interfere with anyone else's process. Your own tics and habits are of relatively little concern, when your performance is taken into account.

Of course, there is a quiet curiosity, on everyone's part (it's only natural, honestly), though all but one person brush past it.

Price is grateful for your contributions to his team. Ghost is quiet, respectful. Gaz is friendly, though you're not quite close as a pair.

Johnny? He is where you start to encounter something new.

He's a curious man, despite how much he tries to hide that, and he trails after you like a puppydog, watching and trying to pick you apart, even during missions.

After one mission, while you're sat in your own self-designated corner of the heli, a few drips of blood are leaving a small gash in your exposed forearm. A simple injury, not all that painful, it could wait until you got a bit of strength back.

And still, the Scot leans forward in his seat before he stands, quietly approaching your seated figure before speaking.

"Ye want help wie tha', mate?" Johnny inquires, sitting himself close to your side, letting the soft tendrils of body heat sink into your side, and you lean, ever so slightly, away from it. Not because it's bad, it was rather nice actually, but you weren't used to this closeness with him yet.

"I can handle it fine, MacTavish." Your response doesn't make him deflate like it usually does with people. Instead, Johnny, in his infinite wisdom, tries to reach for your arm anyway.

You jerk backward, and John finally notes that you don't appreciate the touching.

"Och, ahm sorry, I-"

"Ask first."

The interruption makes him pause in place, and he takes a second to think that over before realizing that, fuck, you were right. He didn't ask about how much touch you were alright with.

"I'm sorry. Can I patch ye up?"

You relax more in your seat, and nod after a moment or two of consideration.

"...Sure."

His hands are big, but gentle as he grabs the disinfectant, delicately sponging it over the small injury, catching the slight grit of your teeth at the sting but not paying it any mind, because you were opening up, at least a little.

Not quite like Ghost, but you were doing something.

When the adhesive bandage is smoothed over your skin, pressed down over ointment and cleaned skin, soaking up the smallest amount of blood as it leaves your body.

And when, just before he pulls back, your hand loosely wraps around his wrist, he looks back up at you in confusion.

"Thanks." You cut in before he can start.

"Ah thought ye didn't-"

"It's alright. You asked when I told you to."

He snorts. "You really like yer crosstalk, huh?" Bright blue eyes filled with boyish warmth. It makes you warm slightly more, lean just a bit closer like he won't notice.

"I do."

"You know ye're leaning into me, right?"

"Yeah." You say, not embarrassed despite the new boldness Johnny is acquiring with you so close to him.

"Can I get closer?"

"Sure."

His hands retain that gentleness while he leans back, one tenderly resting on your shoulder, rubbing at the recently-exerted muscle through the strap of your tac-vest.

You nudge up into that touch, shut your eyes, and let yourself enjoy it. Johnny just stares while you do, silent and starting to smile as you soak up this new affection.

Right then, Ghost is in the heli's hatch, and he sighs slightly beneath the mask as he lowers himself into a seat.

Your eyes snap open, and you lean forward with a start. Johnny's hand twitches back with the sudden movement.

"Don't stop on my account, sergeants." He jokes. Johnny rolls his eyes.

You take the Scot's hand, put it back on your shoulder, and savor a little more of that subtle pampering before Price comes back.

(To be continued :D)

Other works from me <3 | Next Part

[eris-abomination]

Weird rant but I’m EXHAUSTED by the fact that medical supplies are either mind-numbingly clinical or literally made for children.

I’m sick of having to buy adhesive patches for my CGM that are covered in crayon scribble and unicorn patterns because all the rest are depressingly plain and I just want something colorful and FUN.

I’m sick of disabled young adults being completely overlooked by society because the stereotypes only include “decrepit elderly person” and “poor innocent child who doesn’t deserve the horrors of a disability”.

I’m sick of the idea that disabled people are incapable/undeserving of being happy and enjoying life and should just settle for a Dull Gray Existence, and if they ARE happy, then they’re an ✨amazing special inspiration✨ who’s going to constantly be put on a pedestal and infantilized to hell and back.

[luveline]

request for miguel - he gets hurt somehow, maybe out on a mission or something, and spider-girl takes care of him and patches him back up, definitely puts a cute plaster on him which he hates but he loves her so he lets it slide :) <33 everyone makes fun of him for it

also hi ily hope you're having/had a fantastic day

thank you for your request!! grumpy lovesick miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader

"And the salt builds up around their ankles," you're saying, sitting on Miguel's thigh, a bandaid in your shaking hands, "and the chick's feet get so heavy they can't keep up." 

Miguel knows this already, he'd listened to you talk about flamingos for days after you watched that nature documentary, but he lets you tell him again for the very same reason he has you sitting on his thigh in front of everyone, and the same reason he doesn't care that the bandaid you're putting on his cheek has a smiley face in the middle. He scared you today, getting hurt. Even as his quickened regenerative abilities close his wounds and heal his contusions, he can feel you trembling in his lap. 

He'd been out with the elite strike team, Spider-Woman on one side of him and Spider-Girl (not you) on the other. Jessica's more than capable of holding her own, and so together Miguel figured he'd been in neither danger nor trouble. But trouble doesn't always present itself as such, and the anomaly they'd been handling had turned out to be three anomalies. It's never happened before, and the shock startled him into bad decisions. 

The cut on his cheek was wide, but it's nearly healed now. He barely felt it. 

What he did feel was your gasp, like you'd been cut yourself, like he had the knife in his hand when you saw it. He supposes you've never witnessed him hurt before, and you're not as untouchable as you seem; you were worse than scared. 

"Did you get it?" he asks. 

You smooth your thumb along the edges of his bandaid carefully. "Got it. You'll be okay, don't worry." 

You hide your own worry with his. He feeds into it. "Are you sure? What about the one on my arm, you haven't touched that one." 

The one on his arm has been wrapped in gauze and bandages. You bring his arm to your chest, careful not to touch his wound. "Does it hurt?" you ask, your lashes twitching with the intensity of your concern.

"No, cariño," he says quietly, for your ears only. 

"Get a room," Lyla pleads. For hers, too, it seems.

"Sorry," you say, trying to stand. Miguel strong arms you into staying on his thigh, arm like a seatbelt at your waist. "Miguel." 

"You haven't finished," he insists. 

"You look finished to me," Lyla says. "Or did you want another bandaid for the owy over your heart?" 

He grits his teeth. He doesn't want another bandaid, he didn't want the first, but he wants you to be happy. If putting a giant pink heart-shaped plaster on his cheek is going to make you feel better, that's what has to be done. Miguel purses his lips to one side until he feels the adhesive of the bandaid pull away from his skin, and waits in the ridicule of his teammates for you to notice. 

"Oh," you say, fingers poking at the peeled bandaid unhappily. "Sorry, I'm sorry, let me–" You pull the bandaid off achingly slowly. "I only have hearts left, I–" 

"Just put it on," he says, with a feigned reluctance. His devious plan works, and you set a heart plaster over his cut. It's not big enough. You add a second.

"That is hilarious," Lyla says, her mink coat falling down her arm as she twists in the air and holds up a dramatically large cell phone. "Say cheese." 

Miguel looks at you. You throw up a peace sign. The photo is proof of his indulgence in you, if nothing else. He doesn't care how ridiculous he might look on screen, you've finally stopped shaking. 

He squeezes the fat of your hip in his hand and sighs. What a fool, he thinks. He's not talking about you. 

[anielskaaniela]

How to Make DIY Patches for Hats -Easy 5 Steps

In this post, you will learn how to make DIY patches at home. Love what you see ? Support me by snagging some cool items from my shop! Every purchase helps me bring you more awesome content. Thank you! Shop Now Creating your own custom DIY patches is a fun and creative way to add a personalized touch to your clothing, hats, or accessories. Whether you’re looking to make unique patches for a…

[yaut-jaknowit]

I don’t usually request second parts but after that cliffhanger I’m BEGGING for a second part🙏🙏🙏

They Both Reached For The Gun Part 2

Pairings: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 2512

Summary: Wolf finds blood pouring a deadly wound on your side. He has to act fast.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if this was for this one or the other one. But it's a fifty-fifty chance to hit the mark. I do love my cliffhangers, don't I?

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

For the first time in all of your time spent together, Wolf’s eyes filled to the brim with fear. He’s looking at the vibrant, red blood on his hands. It dripped to the floor of his ship, staining it a color he never wish to see. Not from you.

One moment passes until he acts. Determination fills his entire being. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and find yourself looking at the blood as well. It’s weird. There’s no pain. Not that your brain has registered. You do feel a bit loopy and weak in your limps. “Wolf?” you slurred in a soft voice. But the Yautja was already up, on his feet.

As he moves, he doesn’t look at you. Not truly. The bright yellow of his eyes never meets yours. All he focuses on is the blood pouring from a wound covered by a shirt. Fabric that Wolf simply tears from your body after he retrieved the necessary items for you. You don’t try to cover yourself up in surprise. Instead, you simply watch him scoop you up into his arms and carry you to the nearest counter or table.

Wolf lays you flat on the table. Despite the fact he worked wound far longer that you’ve been alive, his hands trembled. The Yautja growled angrily to himself and redoubled his effects. You wanted to reach up and comfort him. To tell him everything will be all right. All you felt was exhaustion. Oh-so tired. You just needed a small nap. The day had been long and grueling. You deserve a nap. Then, you’ll be fine.

The moment he saw your eyes starting to flutter shut, panic struck him. Both of his hands were wet with blood. He used one to pinch your chin and gave your head a harsh shake. You jolted at the movement and whined when he interrupted your sleep. Wolf could care less if you were mad. Good. He wanted you want. Be angry at him. If it meant you stayed away. He’ll take it.

“Stay. Awake,” he demanded with one last shake of your head. He needed both of his hands. All he could hope for is that you listened to him. For once.

A low grumble fell from your lips. “I’m tired,” you complained to him. How dare he wake you from a nap! He knows not to disturb you from a nap. “Let… me sleep.” Your words began to slur.

He cursed lowly to himself and finished up the paste. His next actions will surely wake you up. Through the blurriness of your gaze, Wolf scooped up a bright blue gel that stung your nostrils. You curled your upper lip and turned away from the smell. He brings it to the side of your body he was cleaning. The movements were soft and gentle. Then, he brough his fingers to the wound. They were pressed the gel and smeared it across injured flesh.

The scream that left your throat terrified and pained your mate at the same time. Yet, his hand didn’t move. Wolf firmly held you down on the table with one hand on the center of your chest. You fought him. With every ounce of strength you had left. You did everything in your power to make the pain stop. It burned with the heat of the sun to your skin. You sobbed for him to stop, pushing at his hands. But, the Yautja pressed on. Even after you lost consciousness.

Your body went limp on the table. Wolf instantly checked for a pulse and found one. Relief flood him. The Yautja didn’t stop his work. The paste was pressed into the wound, burning the flesh. No more blood poured freely. Finally, Wolf started to clean the rest of the affected area.

Once he cleaned the skin, an adhesive patch was placed over the open wound. For a moment, Wolf stepped back to give you a once over. No other spots were leaking of life essence any living created needed. Including himself.

Wolf scooped you off the now dirty counter and carried you out of the medical wing of the ship. Somehow, despite the huge weight difference, you had dragged him to safety. The alien, your mate, was insanely proud of your accomplishment. Without you, he would’ve been captured by the oomans. Over his head body would he ever let that happen.

Battle hardened eyes turned soft when they gaze down at your peaceful features. After the events of the day, he was thankful to see you rest. He believed you to be fine now. Since the wound was closed. Their medicine will heal you.

You are set down on the comforts of the shared bed. A blanket is tugged over your form, until it reached your shoulders. Wolf sat down next to you. His now cleaned hands brushed two knuckles against your cheeks. A reminder at the stark difference between his thick scales to your soft, pliant skin. How fragile you are to him. The fact you had taken a bullet and still carried him up to his ship, go it started, and off into space. Wolf leaned down and pressed his mandibles to your forehead in a mock kiss. How brave and strong you were. He knew he found his permanent mate when he first laid eyes on you.

For a few heart beats, the Yautja stays there, watching as your chest rises and falls slowly. Wolf abruptly stands up from the bed and strolls out of the bedroom. You sleep away, deep into the haunting darkness of your mind. A sleep you desperately needed.

When your brain finally decided to wake up, you sat up with a deep, croaky groan. Pain ached at your side. You fingers grazed over a bandage and whined. “Ow,” you grunted then rubbed at your crusty eyes.

It feels like you’ve slept for twenty hours straight with how tired you were. You gave a loud yawn, arms stretched high above your head. You slumped back down and looked around the room. At your side, Wolf slept, slightly curled towards you. A smile broke across your features. You leaned towards him. The movement annoyingly pulled at your injured side. You grunted again and still moved to give the alien a soft kiss to his upper mandible.

His eyes snapped open; his entire body jerking awake. You reeled back with a gasp as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. Wolf turned towards you rapidly and gripped your jaw with both hands. His gaze flickered all over you, landing onto the white patch of gauze attached to your aching side.

One hand touches at the bandage. You whimpered with a fling and tried to pull away. Wolf keeps you in place. “You’re awake,” he whispered before leaning in to give you a mock kiss/nuzzle to your cheek. You returned the gesture, eyes softly closing. “I was worried. You continued to sleep on longer than usual.”

It took you longer than you liked to admit to put the pieces together. Yesterday or something like that… Your sister, Kara, had shot Wolf. The two of you had to narrowly escape. In the process, you had been shot. That’s why you had that bandage on your side. But Wolf! Your eyes scanned over him, only finding the area you had clean up there. He was okay though. He was alive and well by the looks of it.

At first, you snorted. That snort turned into giggles. Those giggles turned into laughter. Then, tears started to stream down your face. You started to sob, gripping onto Wolf tightly. Your nails created crescent moons into his scales. Tears stained your cheeks while you blankly stared at his chest. The two of you almost either died or got captured. All because of your stupidity to trust your sister. She was your sister and had betrayed you and your mate. All for money? Fame?

Your crying grew louder and more violently. Wolf’s head jerked back, no expecting the mental break down that was hitting you. He instantly tugged you flush to his chest. Strong, muscular arms circle around you. You dobbed harder, blabbering on about stuff he could barely understand.

“It-it’s all my f-fault!” You heaved to suck air into your lungs. “I’m so-so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have let her know.” This could’ve all been resolved if Kara never knew. Then, Wolf wouldn’t have been injured; you would be back home with Wolf. Nothing wrong with the world, with your life. It’s all your fault.

A deep growl vibrated form the chest you were pressed to. You tensed up by accident, your crying coming a near stop. A few hiccups still escaping. Wolf snags you by your shoulders and yanks you backwards to find your eyes. He lowers his head and pushes into your space.

“No,” he states firmly and tightens his hands on your shoulders. “No, it’s not. You wouldn’t have known. There was now ay of knowing she would’ve done that.” You started to cry again and shook your head to deny his words. How could he lie to you? You knew he was trying to make you feel better but lying wasn’t the way.

You look into his bright yellow orbs. “But Wolf, it is!” you tried to refute against him. He must know the error of his words. “If she never came over that day, she would’ve never know. We wouldn’t be in this situation!” Despite the ferocity of your words, Wolf doesn’t budge. Not one bit. He doubles down actually.

One of his hands releases your shoulders and pinches your jaw in a firm grasp. “Listen to me, little ooman. Listen to me good. None of this is your fault. None of it. Understood?” he grounded out. You stared at him, trying to read if there was a chance to dispute his claims. But the Yautja was set in his ways. You released a sigh, shoulders sagging then attempted to nod. Wolf held onto your chin tightly.

“Words.”

“I understand,” you relented finally to him. Wolf didn’t immediately let go. He continued to stare directly into your eyes until he found something. Whatever he was looking for pleased him enough to release you from his hold. You sagged down on the bed and timidly wiped away the last of your tears. Wolf tilted your head back and used his tumbled to clean off the rest.

Wolf responded with a grunt and pulled away. “Are you hungry?” he questioned. You swallowed thickly, attempting to clear your throat before nodding your head. “What would you like?”

After being asleep for so long, you were unsure what time it is, you carelessly shrugged. “I don’t care,” you responded and played with the blanket in your lap. A single brow was raised in your direction. “What? I know I’m hungry, but I don’t know what for.” After everything that’s gone down in the last two days, your brain is still scrambled. The last thing you wanted to think about is what to eat. He could set anything in front of you and you could be happy to eat. Food was all you cared about in the moment.

The lean male snorted before slipping off of the bed. Even though he tried to hide it, you say the way he flinched. You reached out towards him. Wolf softly caught your wrist and brough it to your touch. It was a silent reminder that the survived that horrible day. The two of you get to tell the story at a later date.

Then, he releases your hand and leaves the room. You wait until the door closes before flipping backwards onto the bed. The movement pulled on your wound but you didn’t care. You laid there, staring at the ceiling. Would it be worth it to take a shower before food? A groan left your lips. Wolf had cleaned and dressed the wound before putting you onto the bed. The grime and sweat from before still stuck to you. It made you feel sticky and gross.

That helped settle the internally debate.

With a heave, you’re able to sit back up and scoot off of the bed. You stand on shaky legs and wobbled your way into the ensuite bathroom. Due to the placement of the injury, Wolf had discarded of any clothing on your torso, apparently. All you had to do was shed your pants and turn the water on.

Hot water poured from the shower head and over you aching body. A deep groan fell from your lips. You relaxed against the show wall, letting the water wash away the evidence. It soothed over your tired and sore muscles, taking away the bits that hurt the most. This with some food then either snuggle with Wolf or taking another nap. All that sleep made you tired. A well deserved nap. With Wolf, of course. He deserves to sleep as well.

Soon enough, the shower came to an end. As you go to step out, a dark, scale hand held out a fresh, clean towel for you. Instinctively, you jolted at the appearance of a hand before realizing it was just your mate. You sent a half-hearted flare at the silent alien then took the offered towel from him. “I’m guessing the food is ready?” you asked and dried yourself off. The towel was set off to the side. Wolf gives you a pair of boxers and shorts. Which you slipped on with a thankful smile.

From there, Wolf take you to the small kitchen the ship had to offer. Two plates were set up on the counter. The portions matching each size of person.

He scoops up each plate and bring them to a two person table. You take your seat across from him. The lunch style food wafts up into your nose. You groan like you’re in heaven then started to snack on it. Wolf follows suit.

Lunch finishes up after about thirty minutes. After the first bite, that’s when you realize how hungry you are. You eat every last bite until the plate was empty and your belly was stuffed. Your mate had to carry you back to bed and laid you down on the comfortable sheets. You snuggle underneath the blankets and wait for him to join.

The large, lean male slips in after you and pulls you on to of him. You nuzzle into his neck, taking in his delicious scent. His arms tightened around you, careful of the wound on your side.

“Thank you,” you told him. “For everything.” Wolf was far too good for you. But you would never give him up. No matter what. Till death do us part.

A purr started in the back of his throat, soothing any worry in you. You completely relaxed on top of him. Your eyes finally closing as sleep takes a told of you.

Unable to return back or anywhere on earth, the two of you take refuge among the stars. Your new home.

[love--and--venom]

Into the Wonderland: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: You get to know the pack that helped you, with some interesting revelations. At class the next day, Marcus confronts you again.

Warnings: Marcus is a misogynistic asshole again

Series Masterlist

A table set for eight now held nine people – four on one side, three on the other, and two at each head of the table. You, being one of the smaller members of the group, were sat on the side with four chairs. 

“Thank you, again, for your help and for letting me eat with you. I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduced. You looked around the table as each member of the pack told you their names. The side of the table with four chairs sat Yeosang, you, Wooyoung, and Yunho. Across from you were Mingi, San, and Jongho, with Hongjoong and Seonghwa at the heads of the table.

“So that guy is your classmate, and he thought you were flirting with him just by looking at him?” Yeosang raised his eyebrows as you nodded. “Wow, I couldn’t imagine being that arrogant.”

“I think Mingi knocked him down a peg,” Wooyoung snickered and bumped his shoulder against yours. Mingi turned to his lap, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Hm, I hope so, but he was still aggressive when he left,” you shrugged. “I’ll have to email my professor to let her know what happened.”

“Ooh, what are you in school for?” Seonghwa probed, chin resting on his hand. 

“I’m in bioinformatics,” you grinned. “I want to work at the Research Institute for Infectious Diseases.” A round of impressed “ooo”s rippled across the table. You were bombarded with questions about your major and your career plans, which you were more than happy to ramble on about. You only paused to place your order before delving back into describing your current coding project. 

“Woah, I think my brain would break if I had to do all of that,” Wooyoung whistled. He and Yeosang peeped over your shoulders to look at your code after you opened your laptop. You giggled, closing your incomplete project to show them how a functional code works. You glanced up at movement across the table. Mingi was massaging his bruising knuckles, wincing on the especially tender spots. 

“Mingi, are you okay? Your hand looks like it hurts,” you asked, eyebrows scrunching in concern. Mingi jumped, like he wasn’t expecting you to address him directly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he reassured. “What about you, though? You keep picking at your patches.”

“Ah, I don’t really like using blocker patches. I think my skin is sensitive, cus they always start itching after a few hours,” you explained. “But I ran out of the cream I normally use.”

“I have a roll-on scent blocker if you want to take the patches off,” Seonghwa offered. 

“Really? That would be great, thank you!” You stood to go to the restroom, but you were stopped by Yeosang holding your wrist.

“You can just change them here. We are in a private room, after all,” he insisted while pulling you back down to sit. Seonghwa’s blocker was passed down the table, so you figured they weren’t going to let you argue. 

“Honestly, it’s no big deal to change them in the restroom,” you grumbled to yourself and peeled off the irritating patches. You sighed in relief, gently scratching where the adhesive had turned your skin pink. You popped the lid off of the roll-on blocker, pausing when all conversation suddenly stopped. You looked up and were met with five sets of eyes already staring at you. 

“Is… uh, is everything alright?” You faltered. Wooyoung, San, and Jongho appeared just as confused as you. Wooyoung leaned down to sniff at your neck. “Woo! Personal space, please.” You covered your scent glands with your hands.

“I’m so sorry!” Seonghwa snapped out of his daze. “We weren’t trying to make you uncomfortable, it’s just –”

“You smell like pack,” San realized. Your eyes widened, looking to the others for confirmation. Almost everyone nodded, but Hongjoong, Mingi, and Yunho were practically starstruck.

“Are any of you wearing a blocker that can be removed easily?” You twisted the roll-on in your hand nervously. 

“Me, Yunho, and San have on patches. We can take them off, if you want?” Yeosang volunteered. 

“Please.” San and Yeosang peeled off their patches, revealing their scents. You leaned a bit closer to your fellow omega since he was closer to you. 

“I’ll be damned, you really do smell like pack.” You slouched in your chair, arms crossed lazily over your chest. You stared at Yeosang in wonder, and he poked your cheek with a smirk.

“Yunho, you gonna take yours off?” San kicked his foot under the table. Yunho jolted, mouth opening and closing without sound. Hongjoong’s gaze flickered between you, Mingi, and Yunho.

“Y/N, I think the three of us are getting a different scent from you,” the leader chuckled, almost in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” You sat up straight again, hands falling to your lap. Oh god, what if they weren’t pack? Is that even possible? How can you be pack for only some of them? What – 

“Mate,” Mingi sighed happily. Your jaw dropped, but you were interrupted by servers bringing in plates of food. They politely ignored the fact that you, San, and Yeosang weren’t wearing blockers. Hongjoong cleared his throat after the staff members left.

“Alright, everyone put your scent blockers back on. Let’s eat, then we can go back to the dorms to talk about this.” Everyone quickly obeyed, reapplying scent blockers and digging into their meals.

The rest of lunch went by without any other surprises. You chatted with the boys about all of your jobs, hobbies, and other interests. You were surprised to find quite a bit in common with them, from music to TV shows to favorite foods. After paying and bidding your goodbyes to Ji-Won, the nine of you stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“I’m not sure how far your dorms are, but my apartment is a ten minute walk,” you offered. They immediately agreed since going to your apartment meant being surrounded by your scent. You led the way while having a heated debate with Yunho about who would win in a fight between Iron Man and Batman (the obvious answer is Iron Man). You eventually had to stop the debate to unlock your door so everyone could file in. 

“Your apartment is so cute,” Seonghwa complimented. You decorated your space into the perfect mix of sleek, charming, and spooky. San placed your backpack next to the breakfast bar since he had insisted he carry it for you. 

“Make yourselves comfortable!” You plopped onto your plush loveseat. Yeosang and Seonghwa quickly stole the spots on either side of you, leaving the others to sit on the floor (or the bean bag chair in Hongjoong’s case). 

“Right,” Hongjoong started with a clap. “We know that you’re an omega. You know that Yeosang and San are an omega and a beta, respectively. I think the next step is introducing you to the rest of our scents.”

“Of course, but please go one at a time. I’d like to actually be able to tell whose scent is whose,” you agreed. Since you were already familiar with Yeosang and San, they were the first to remove their blocker patches. Seonghwa went next, wiping off his blocker with a damp paper towel. 

“Two omegas! I don’t have many omega friends, the people in my classes are mostly alphas and betas.” You perked up and smiled brightly at the elder omega. Wooyoung and then Jongho removed their blockers, allowing you to identify them as betas. You felt your heart swell as more of their scents mixed together and enveloped you in the feeling of pack. You looked to the final three, eager to know their scents.

“You first, Yunho. You and Mingi have more mellow scents than me,” Hongjoong instructed. Yunho nodded and peeled his patches off. You were hit with a gentle mix of lotus flowers and myrrh, a very mild scent for an alpha. Mingi followed suit, his comforting scent reminded you of a campfire on an autumn night. Hongjoong rounded out the group, and he was definitely right, his scent was the strongest out of everyone. You grinned and stared at the three alphas in a daze. 

“I think you guys broke her,” Wooyoung snickered and poked your thigh. You inhaled sharply and shook your head to refocus yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” Seonghwa chimed in. He ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t zone out. You’re getting practically slammed by pack and mate scents.”

“Uh, I don’t want to be the buzzkill here, but I’m worried about that classmate of yours,” Jongho interjected. “I don’t want him starting shit during your next lecture.”

“I did email my professor while we were eating. She said she would alert campus security just in case, but she will try to keep Marcus away from me.” 

“Would you be alright with us scenting you?” Mingi gestured to himself and his fellow alphas. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Hongjoong shrugged. “At least until you’re ready to accept our bond marks.” 

“I don’t mind, if you think it’ll help.” You blushed furiously at the mere thought of the pack alpha sinking his teeth into you. You received nods of approval all around.

“I also want you to wear my necklace,” San announced. 

“Wha– what?”

“Don’t think too hard on it,” Yeosang whispered. “San gets protective over the pack members. He made me and Wooyoung wear his jewelry and clothes the entire time we didn’t have our pack marks.” 

“Fuck it, let’s do it.”

The next morning you met up with the pack’s alphas at a small coffee shop after your 9 am class finished. Yunho handed you a bag containing much more jewelry than you anticipated. Despite your casual clothes, you were now decked out with San’s silver chain, Wooyoung’s star earrings, leather cord bracelets from Seonghwa and Yeosang, and a cute teddy bear pin from Jongho. 

“The others decided they also wanted a way to show you’re taken,” Hongjoong chuckled. “Can I send them a photo?” You nodded and posed so all of the jewelry showed. Your phone instantly blew up with texts from your newly formed group chat. You giggled at the outrageous compliments being thrown your way, but focused yourself after checking the time.

“Okay, okay, I have to leave for my next class soon. Do what you gotta do.” You tucked your phone in your pocket and pulled your hair into a bun so it would be out of the way. Yunho politely scented you, nuzzling his nose into your neck and cheek, pulling away with a quick kiss to your forehead. Mingi and Hongjoong, however, did not have the same self control. They took turns pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck and collarbones, sprinkling tiny nips along your sensitive skin. You felt them smirk into your skin when you squeaked at them licking over your scent glands. Hongjoong pulled you into one final, real kiss by the back of your neck. The three stepped back, admiring the mix of the pack’s scents with your own and smiling in satisfaction at your deep blush.

“I think this should get the message across,” Mingi commented with a shit-eating grin. You glared at him light-heartedly as you fanned your face with your hands. “Seriously, though, if he gives you any kind of trouble, text us.”

“I will,” you promised. You gave them each a hug goodbye before grabbing your backpack and heading to class, pointedly ignoring the odd look you got from the barista. Honestly, you were nervous about seeing Marcus again, especially since you weren’t wearing scent blockers today. You hoped that being absolutely covered in the pack’s scents would get through his thick skull. You were one of the first in the lecture hall, taking your usual seat by the window. Your classmates slowly trickled in as you once again pulled up your code. Your friend Nari, a sweet beta and one of the few girls in your class, took the seat next to you.

“Girl, what are all these scents on you?!” She teased with a poke to your ribs. You snickered and swatted her hand away before quickly recapping everything that happened in the last 24 hours. Nari stared at you, dumbfounded and jaw dropped.

“No fucking way,” she scoffed. “I’m sorry that Marcus tried that with you, but I’m also so happy you found your pack! And your mates!” She squealed that last part and you had to shush her after receiving glares from the people around you. The door opened again, and Marcus sauntered in, his gaze already locking on to you. His expression grew angrier the closer he got to you.

(“Korean dialogue”/ “English dialogue”)

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He snapped once he stood in front of your table. 

“Excuse me?” You glared at him, putting venom at the edge of your voice. 

“You told our professor that I attacked you.” He slammed his hands onto the table, making Nari jump beside you. “And now you show up to class covered in other people’s clothes and scents. Let me guess, it’s those guys you hid behind at the restaurant.”

“So what if it is? You don’t tell me what to do, dickhead,” you sneered back at him.

“Y/N, what’s happening?” Nari’s voice trembled and she held tightly to your arm. You patted her hand in reassurance but refused to break eye contact with Marcus.

“You’re a fucking slut, throwing yourself at a whole goddamn pack just to diss me,” he snarled. Nari yelped as you shot out of your seat.

“Get this through your thick fucking skull, Marcus,” you hissed furiously. “I don’t fucking like you. I did not ‘throw myself’ at another pack for something as petty as scorning you. So leave me the fuck alone.”

“You bitch–”

“Mr. Williams, is there an issue here?” Dr. Seong interrupted cooly, one eyebrow arched in question. You sighed in relief. Even if Marcus wouldn’t listen to you, he had too much respect for your professor to defy her. He gaped, mouth opening and closing but unable to form an excuse. “I think it would be best for you to take a seat, one far from Ms. Y/LN.”

“Y-yes ma’am,” Marcus stammered and moved to sit at a table at the opposite corner of the room. Dr. Seong huffed and turned to you.

“I apologize, Ms. Y/LN. I will speak to Mr. Williams after class,” she reassured you. “I must say, it was a bold move showing up scented by your pack. Good work.” You beamed at her compliment and tiny smile. Dr. Seong was an extremely serious and professional woman, so you were elated at the recognition. She nodded before taking her place at the front of the lecture hall. You sat back down and pulled out your phone. It had been buzzing nonstop for the last few minutes. When you suddenly stopped replying, it worried the pack. You quickly filled them in on what happened and assured them that you were alright. They weren’t satisfied until you agreed to come to their dorms after your classes were finished for the day, although it didn’t really take much convincing. You rolled your eyes at their antics, turning your attention to Dr. Seong as she began her lecture.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98

Series Taglist: Open, comment or send an ask to be added!

[ebonyslasher]

Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.

Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.

Roses are red, violets are blue

Here's

Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!

A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.

A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.

“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood. 

The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.

“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.

—--

Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.

Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.

However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.

As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked. 

He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase

Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.

Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.

He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.

Injuries looked especially good on you anyway

“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.

Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough. 

You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.

“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment. 

Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had. 

---

Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible. 

He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.

 He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc. 

Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy. 

Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.

His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc. 

Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.

If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.

“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments. 

“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.

You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about. 

“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.

“And why not?” He questioned

“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”

“....I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”

“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”

“A relationship between us two…?”

“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”

--

You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others. 

He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you. 

Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.

The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them. 

He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments. 

Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.

You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge

“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.

“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.

“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.

“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”

--

He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust

He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.

He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.

He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you

Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of. 

The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.

He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.

Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.

Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage. 

He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.

If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.  

[rintoorou]

ALOHA, HAWAII — xvi. are you still the same?

(wc: 700-ish)

while you were dating suna rintarou, you kept a mental note about all the things you found interesting about him. you knew he liked his coffee sweet, not bitter. you knew he hated using the salonpas patches but put them on before training anyway. you knew he liked his jelly fruit sticks better when cold. you knew how much he talked in his sleep. you knew he could tie his sister's hair (not just in a ponytail). you knew he disliked stuffed toys and would kick them off your bed whenever you visited the beach house.

"i feel like i'm being stared at," he told you one night.

so it's your surprise that he texts you he's at a pop-up store, filled to the brim with beady-eyed stuffed toys, next in line at the counter. you patiently wait for him outside, watching as kids and teens and their parents flit in and out of the shop. you begin to wonder how much he's changed since college.

suna's with you after five minutes. "did you wait long?" he asks.

"not really," you reply. your eyes are suddenly drawn to the paper bag in his hand, the image of him handing it to his girlfriend back home briefly passes your mind. "what do you want?" you then ask, and suna becomes internally confused when he senses a slight sting in your tone.

he nods towards your feet, "let me see."

suddenly feeling self-conscious, you try to shift his attention to something else and step back. "what? no," you brush him off, playing it cool, "i'm fine. let's just go back." he raises a brow in disapproval yet says nothing more when you begin to walk ahead of him.

but it’s a little difficult for suna to ignore how stubborn you’re being, wincing slightly when he catches sight of the red patch behind your ankles. “doesn’t it hurt?” you hear him say from behind you.

“no.” your plain response drives him to roll his eyes at you, “why in the world would you wear shoes that don’t fit?” there's a little judgment in his tone, similar to when he found out you liked your americano with three extra shots of espresso on your fifth date; underneath it all, you knew that it was because he was just too shy to show that he cared.

you puff air out of your cheeks instead of giving him a verbal answer. two beats pass and suna decides he’s finally had enough.

you’re caught off-guard when suna pulls you back by the elbow, your shoulder brushing lightly against his arm. you open your mouth to say that you're fine and he's overreacting, but he doesn't let you.

instead, he shoves the paper bag in your hands before stepping around you. this effectively shuts you up, and you watch as suna goes off the sidewalk and makes for the convenience store behind you.

it doesn't take long before he returns bringing a small plastic bag with him this time.

suna stretches his arm out towards you, telling you to take it, simultaneously reaching back for the paper bag. you accept it with thanks, but your eyes still flicker towards his with hesitance.

he tilts his head to the side, the corner of his lip quirking up in amusement. "what? do you need me to put it on for you too?" he teases, prompting you to pull the plastic further away from him even if he makes no move to grab it.

you deny how your heart skips a beat and mask your feelings with a sarcastic smile. "you read me so well," you say, opening the box of bandaids. in response, suna puts his hands up in mock surrender, "be worried if i don't."

he watches you intently, snickering when you make an offhanded comment about his design choice. "snoopy? seriously?" you rip the white paper off the adhesive at once, "you couldn't have gotten the transparent ones?"

when you're finished, you pack the bandaids into your bag before continuing your walk with suna. your ankles still sting but the pain is manageable with the bandaids.

"didn't know you and reiko still talked," suna muses after a few moments of silence. he notices the little smile that paints your lips at the mention of his younger sister, "yeah, we do."

you then turn your head to him with your brows furrowed, but look away just as quickly, "she didn't tell you?"

"nope," he answers, popping the 'p'.

you catch his attention when a small laugh escapes you. "good girl," you hum. suna rolls his eyes at this—you know he knows that you're deliberately withholding information about your topics with his sister—but a smile similar to yours graces his lips nonetheless.

"'she's a brat' is what you mean."

"wonder where she gets that from."

prev — masterlist — next

notes next chapter is gonna be another college!sunayn post so stay SEATED

tags @ilyless @strxwberri-s @bbybibi @milesmoralesluvs @hanniemylovelyquokka @nbcvs @crispchocolates @cnnmairoll @trash-master-3000 @tojirin @ryuverse @megumiif @chemiru @theycallmenanamisgirl @neoclb @krissiekris @nyxlai @tsukiran @frvppe @le000xxgrd @kr1nqu @kunihaver @toges-cough-syrup @myromanempiree @baskin-robinhoods @jeongintwt @itsdragonius @moucheslove @ichcocat @miiyas @samuel1004 @reignsaway @sonicsolos @httpshoyo

[mystardustmelodyyy]

@remotewatch HQ’s Election Countdown Day 6: Law Students

Hand to god, it began purely as an academic partnership. Splitting note-taking responsibilities and checking each other’s work, that sort of thing. Sure, Jack was absurdly pretty, but the addictive spike in positive instructor feedback after you’d been reviewing each other’s writing for a bit had much more to do with it. When you started fucking after your study sessions, then before, then doing as much as you could before the ten minute break timer went off between subject blocs, it was pretty easy to justify. Literally getting fucked to sleep six nights a week made it nigh impossible to stay up worrying about what concepts would screw you over on an exam. The more time you spent letting Jack’s tongue lave over you and the longer you let him say he needed to coax you on his fingers before stretching you out over his dick like taffy, the more you struggled to worry about much of anything.

If you had to put a date on it, Halloween was around when you realized a change was going to be necessary.

The whole night had actually been going swimmingly: an Anything But Human dress code for your friends’ potluck was by far the least contrived of the season, and you’d started designing your honeybee costume the second you got wind of it. At your request that he please select a corporeal, non political costume for one party, Jack grabbed some wire, pliers, and black yarn from your craft basket and whipped up a cat ear headband to match the first all black outfit his eyes landed on before he’d headed over.

You, on the other hand, spent the last hour leading up to the party thoroughly saturating two powder puffs in gold spray glitter for your behind the knee curbiculae, leaving him to meticulously glue gold rhinestone smatterings to the black velvet of your dress and taking care to push his head back whenever it dipped too close to the fresh E6000.

Things only started to go south when you had to bend down to draw on Jack’s whiskers with your eyeliner. His patience lasted almost long enough for you to reapply your lipstick and kiss the tip of his nose pink before one finger was curling under your swooping low, gold marabou-trimmed neckline.

“I’m glad I didn’t let you talk me into going commando with a catsuit-“ he murmured, nuzzling his nose over your chest “it would be a real problem when you look this good.”

Soon enough, your legs were hooked securely over his shoulders and any lingering stressors were steadily eroded away with each full-weighted, eyelid-fluttering thrust of Jack’s hips.

When you eventually get out the door, it’s already sunset, and the fading daylight reveals comically dense patches of your pollen glitter reaching from Jack’s shoulders clear down to his navel. That good for nothing spray adhesive hadn’t held shit in place; you’d be amazed to discover any sparkle left behind your knees the way he’s bathed in it.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! We look like a couple of perverts, and we’re late!” you frantically swat at his chest trying to clear some of the glitter, only working it deeper into the weave of his sweater.

“We’ll fit right in!”

“No, I’m serious! We really need to set some ground rules or something because this is getting ridiculous.”

✨✨✨✨✨

I’m sure you’ve all seen these by now 🤭. I know we talk a lot of the Harris Walz campaign specifically but Jack makes a good point- there are so many other candidates and propositions on your ballot that are just as important. For example, it is vital for us to secure as many GOP seats as possible. Vote.org has a great feature where you can enter your information and get a preview of your ballot to prep for when you vote for real.

Stay informed and stay mobilized, my beautiful heauxs! 👏🏽🩵💋

[starlightkun]

finders keepers ⇢ teaser 1

⇢ teaser word count: 1162 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

At your building, Johnny and Jaehyun helped you drag the spaceman up to your apartment on the third floor, and you had them deposit him on your bed. Johnny brought his travel vet kit up from the car, and together, you managed to get the shiny silver jacket off of him. Underneath, he had a fairly plain white top, which was also torn and blood-soaked. Johnny snapped on a pair of gloves before he pushed the hem up to appraise the stranger’s side, where there was a huge gash in his flesh.

“Oh, Christ, okay,” Johnny sighed, inspecting the wound. “I guess I’ll disinfect and suture it up?”

“Just do it,” you mumbled, pressing a towel to the man’s sweat-sheened forehead.

“Jaehyun, mind assisting?”

“You do know the ‘Dr.’ I put in front of my name is just decorative, right? It’s in Poetry—”

“And now you can brag to all your colleagues that you’ve done real medicine like a real doctor,” Johnny snapped back. “Disinfectant, get it.”

With Jaehyun assisting him, Johnny made quick work of patching him up. Pressing the bandages down over the site so the adhesive would stick, Johnny then disposed of his navy-splattered gloves. He grabbed a stethoscope, putting the end up against the spaceman’s chest.

“I think he’s alive?” Johnny announced. “I don’t know. If he is, he doesn’t have a heart because I’m not getting anything.”

He shifted the placement, presumably to listen to his breathing, and an even more bewildered look overtook his features. Sliding the stethoscope over to the right side of the man’s chest, he sat there for a moment, just listening.

“It’s on the other side,” he breathed out. “His heart’s on the right side.”

“But he has a heartbeat?” You clarified.

“Yeah, he does. Faint, but it’s there. He’s breathing, too. A bit shallow, but otherwise normal. I think.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else I can do until he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

“Right, thank you Johnny,” you smiled wearily your friend. “I’ll call you when he wakes.”

Jaehyun and Johnny looked at each other skeptically. Jaehyun spoke up, “You’re going to stay here alone with some rando we literally pulled out of a burning hunk of metal?”

“My couch only fits one person. So unless you two are offering to sleep on the floor to protect me or whatever?”

“Call us if anything happens,” Johnny sighed, packing up all of his supplies.

“Of course,” you nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

You heard the sound of your front door clicking shut as you stayed sitting on the edge of your mattress, wiping the spaceman’s face. He really did look human, two eyes that were now shut, lashes resting on his cheeks, a nose practically just like yours, with an elegant slope to the bridge, and a pair of plush, pouty lips.

He let out a soft sigh, his head rolling over towards you. But then he went silent and still again.

You finished cleaning up his face as best you could, then pulled the covers up over him. Readjusting his bangs that had been stuck together by the damp washcloth you’d used, you gave a final determined nod to nobody in particular before standing up. Grabbing a change of pajamas from your dresser, you got everything you’d need from in here for the night, then went to leave.

“Alright…” You stopped at the threshold of your bedroom, looking over the spaceman’s sleeping figure one last time. “Goodnight, I suppose.”

And with that, you turned the lights out, and quietly closed the door behind you. You were sure to leave it slightly ajar, though, just in case. After taking a much-needed shower and getting ready for bed in your bathroom, you headed out to the living room. You set up a few pillows and blankets into a comfy-enough makeshift bed, then tucked yourself in. Despite the exhaustion in your muscles, the excitement of the night hadn’t worn off yet, and you laid awake for another hour just staring at your bedroom door.

Waking up in the morning to sunlight streaming in through your living room windows, you covered your eyes with a groan and rolled over to bury your face in the back cushions. The sound of your phone buzzing incessantly from the coffee table came, however, and with a guttural groan, you flopped back over to pick it up.

“Yeah?” You mumbled, not even checking the caller ID.

“Y/N?” It was Yuta on the other end.

“Who the fuck else would it be? You called me at whenever-the-fuck-in-the-morning.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Couch,” you corrected him, swinging your feet over as you sat up properly. “I slept on the couch.”

“Gave E.T. your bed? Such a kind hostess.”

The mention of your guest woke you up more. You got to your feet, shuffling towards the bedroom with a yawn. “Yeah, you know me, I’m a fuckin’ peach.”

“So how’s the…” Yuta dropped his voice to whisper into the phone, “Alien?”

The door hadn’t moved since last night, and you cautiously pushed it open to peer inside. You could see the stranger exactly where you had left him, laying on his back under your blankets, chest shallowly rising up and down. Pushing further into the room, you hesitated on whether to try to find a pulse again. You settled for trying once around his wrist, and if it didn’t work, then you’d just have to assume he was fine.

Surprisingly, you found his pulse in one go, and it felt steady.

“Fine, I think,” you answered Yuta quietly, walking back over towards your door. “He’s breathing, he has a heartbeat. He’s just not… ambulatory.”

“Still passed out cold?”

“Yeah.”

“Imagine if he was in one of those comas that you don’t wake up from, and we just had to deal with this comatose alien.”

“Stop, you’re going to manifest that or something!” You hissed.

“Not manifesting, just joking.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Anyway, some of us went back to the beach this morning, because Mark really wanted to see the UFO—”

“Don’t touch anything!”

“We couldn’t. The whole place is locked down. Couldn’t even park on the shoulder, it was swarming with cops. They were still putting out the fire.”

“Do you think any of the ship survived?”

“I have no clue. Doyoung said he’d ask his dad about it.”

Doyoung’s dad was the fire chief, making your participation in the conflagration last night even more dicey.

“Tell him to call me as soon as he finds out anything.”

“I think he was already planning on that, but I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good. Also, I’m sorry for kicking you in…” You trailed off as you turned around to see two big brown eyes staring at you from your bed. “I’ve got to go, Yuta. I’ll call you back.”

“What’s hap—”

You hung up.

⤷ masterlist

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