#There's nothing more painful and personal than this. I feel sick every time. It's too much.

[riverswater]

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[andragoras-in-vanity]

my head hurts, im bleeding still (more so than before i called ny clinic), im so stressed i want to cry cause i have no support and so much to do and all i want is my person cause everyone is in christmas mode and i cant handle this time of year alone again

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

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“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left. 

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident. 

You keep waiting for that phone call. 

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home. 

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear. 

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse. 

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha. 

You hate it. 

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence. 

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere. 

Still...it smells fishy to you. 

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent. 

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast. 

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like. 

It makes you physically ill. 

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments. 

Some of those moments with Simon. 

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side. 

Your heat. 

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot. 

It makes you sick. 

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again. 

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid. 

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough. 

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out. 

You can’t trust Simon to help you. 

You’re not even sure he knows how to. 

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death? 

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list. 

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy. 

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him. 

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently. 

You can’t. 

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control. 

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges. 

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other. 

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax. 

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it. 

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks. 

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think. 

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says. 

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has. 

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again. 

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.” 

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike. 

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine. 

You’re afraid for a different reason now. 

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle. 

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” 

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega. 

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again. 

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says. 

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.” 

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.” 

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.” 

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently. 

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks. 

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.” 

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.” 

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.” 

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety. 

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you. 

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust. 

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash. 

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen. 

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head. 

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower. 

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you. 

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back. 

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.” 

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on. 

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress. 

Four weeks. 

A month. 

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better. 

There’s been no contact. 

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming. 

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him. 

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away. 

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze. 

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything. 

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone. 

You want your alpha. 

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world. 

You miss them so much it hurts. 

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering. 

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking. 

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.” 

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers. 

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.” 

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.” 

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity. 

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side. 

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware. 

You’re hungry. 

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist. 

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep. 

“I’m hungry.” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.” 

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out. 

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp. 

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge. 

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning. 

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.” 

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.” 

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone. 

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. 

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.” 

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no. 

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says. 

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.” 

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time. 

You’re going to have to do this alone. 

Well...perhaps not. 

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all. 

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity. 

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again. 

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know. 

What if he says yes?  

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. 

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?” 

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands. 

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?” 

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room. 

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state. 

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger. 

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future. 

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake. 

“No.” 

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful. 

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over. 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face. 

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself. 

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin. 

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger. 

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones. 

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.” 

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this. 

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under. 

You want to remember his voice when you come back out. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort. 

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms. 

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience. 

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead. 

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released. 

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what. 

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?” 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.” 

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark. 

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes. 

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around. 

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV. 

“Not my favorite.” He admits. 

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.” 

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it. 

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation. 

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong. 

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days. 

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse. 

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat. 

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center. 

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head. 

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone. 

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV. 

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.” 

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head. 

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more. 

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before. 

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long. 

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe. 

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now. 

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware. 

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap. 

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.” 

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way. 

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him. 

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever. 

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge. 

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.  

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him. 

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone. 

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now. 

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach. 

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.” 

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket. 

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries. 

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand. 

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.” 

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze. 

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

“Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips. 

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his. 

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes. 

She is smart. He’ll give her that. 

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his. 

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it. 

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything. 

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.” 

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made. 

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up. 

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway. 

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.” 

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory. 

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise. 

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says. 

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state. 

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door. 

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book. 

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.” 

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him. 

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

He hates it. 

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.” 

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room. 

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it. 

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know. 

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes. 

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep. 

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much. 

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears. 

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this. 

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak. 

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.” 

NEXT ->

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[bpmiranda]

Comfort |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: age gap, car sex, old!logan, 18+ f!reader, mutant!reader(can identify diseases in person), smut, oral m! receiving, unprotected intercourse, cheating(?), creampie

You are not exactly sure how it began between you and Logan, how it is that you became so close. Looking at it from the beginning, it was a simple arrangement, a favor for Charles Xavier who had once upon a time helped you out in a time of need. With your position at the hospital, you were able to supply Logan with the medicine Charles needed for his seizures. It was quite often that Logan appeared tired and worn out from the long trips he drove as a chauffeur. The sight of him so broken down weighed on you and there was nothing you wanted more than to help him, ease the aches and pains he was no doubt constantly feeling.

“You okay, Logan?” You ask as he meets you outside of the emergency area. It’s drizzling softly and he’s struggling to get up the slight, slick incline of the sidewalk towards you.

“Fine,” He forces a smile. “Just fine, sweetheart.” But he’s lying and you know it and he knows you’re aware, but he can’t burden you with himself too.

However, it is built into you to help those in need. “Have dinner with me.” You offer, holding onto his hand as you give him the medicine. Logan shakes his head. “Please, I need a ride home anyway. My boyfriend’s got my car, but he’s not answering my calls.” Logan looks at you for a moment with concern and you roll your eyes playfully. “He’s kind of absentminded. It’s no big deal. Come on, give me a lift home and I’ll make you something to eat?”

It’s hard for Logan to pass up the invitation, especially when there’s a damsel in distress and he’s grown soft for you. Not only because you’re helping him out or because you’re incredibly pretty and you give him the type of looks he hasn’t received from a young girl in ages. He’s particularly soft for you because of all you do for others, nursing the sick, giving your deadbeat boyfriend every benefit of the doubt, indulging Logan even when he knows he’s being a complete pain in the ass.

You sit in the passenger seat with him as you rant about the patients, the doctors at the hospital, and your boyfriend. “I just can’t ever seem to do enough, you know?” You say as you look over at him and he’s listening with a pained look, struggling not to interrupt you with his coughing, the features of his face illuminated by the red stoplight you are currently sitting below. You feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment as you realize you’ve been complaining this whole time. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I don’t mean to bitch about my problems when you’ve got all this shit worry about with Charles and yourself.” You say, pressing you palm into your forehead as you shake your head in disbelief. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I just get to jabbering and I don’t know when to-”

Logan’s hand is suddenly on your thigh and you look back at him, your face warm for a different reason now. “You’re allowed to bitch about that asshole.” He reassures you and you chuckle, biting your lip as he gives you a comforting squeeze on your leg. “Your boyfriend sure doesn’t sound like a prize.” He chuckles, leaving his hand where it is as he drives past the now green light and you let him. “How is it that you met again?”

You chuckle, shaking your head at the meet-cute you and your boyfriend had at the very hospital where you work. “He was bringing in a friend of his who had sprained an ankle. I could feel the cancer in him when our hands touched and I advised him to get a check up. When his results came back and they were able to treat it early, he invited me out to eat as a way of thanking me.”

“I should’ve done the same, huh? Maybe you and I would’ve ended up together.” Logan says, looking over at you with a small smirk while you frown because he knows you don’t like when he talks about what could’ve been. “Don’t be like that. I’ve lived a long life. It was only a matter of time before something killed me.”

You had sensed the adamantium poisoning him when you first shook hands at the beginning of your arrangement. You were hesitant to tell him, but you only confirmed what he already knew. It didn’t make it any easier to see such a great man slowly dying, weakening with every passing day. It made your heart ache and you just wanted to care for him. Logan knew of your feelings, but he was living on borrowed time, you needed someone that was going to stick around and he wasn’t going to let you take him on as another problem, another patient.

“You’re kidding me.” You say angrily as Logan is pulling up in front of your town home and you see your car parked outside. “That fucking asshole.”

Without another word, you leave your belongings in the car as you storm into your home and chew your boyfriend out for not picking up the phone or coming get you. Logan isn’t quite sure what to do, but he waits. After a few minutes, he watches you hurry back out with a backpack which you angrily toss into the back of the limousine and you sit back there with your face in your hands as you cry softly. “You okay?” He asks, driving away from your home, unsure of where he’s going, but assuming you don’t want to be there anymore.

“No.” You mumble, wiping your eyes and leaning back into your seat as you stare out of the tinted windows. Your phone, which is still in the passenger seat, is going off with texts and calls and you hear it. “Just turn it off.” Logan turns it off and he looks at you through the rear view mirror where you give him a sad smile. “Am I an idiot for giving him all those chances?” You ask suddenly and he shakes his head which makes you chuckle dryly. “Please, I have got to be the dumbest bi-”

“Don’t.” Logan’s voice is stern and you stop talking, crying quietly into your hands again as he finds a safe place to pull over so he can get into the back with you. His strong arms wrap around you and you cry into his chest, holding tightly onto him as he comforts you. You can hear his heartbeat, you can feel his breathing is forced and shaky, you look up at him through your eyelashes, tears clinging to them like raindrops. Logan softly brushes the droplets from your cheekbone, his thumb moves slowly down to your jaw, and you lean up to kiss him. His initial thought is that you’re sad, you need comfort, you need to be shown appreciation, and as much as he would love to do that for you, be that person, he can’t. He won’t live long enough to build something real with you, he couldn’t possibly do that to you.

“Please,” You beg as he begins to pull away. Your hands grab fistfuls of his dress jacket as you bring yourself up to kiss him again. “Please.” You whisper against his lips while you climb onto his lap.

Logan, in an attempt to be a good man, gently grabs your arms and pulls away from you. “Sweetheart, you’re not thinking clearly. You’re hurt, you don’t really want to do this.” He says, looking at you in his lap, pouting and broken hearted.

“Logan, I know you’re hurting too,” You say, gently pushing his jacket of his shoulders, rubbing his tense back softly and a low moan emits from his throat. “You want this as much as I do.” You whisper, unbuttoning his white dress shirt as you lean in and kiss his forehead. “Let me take care of you, and you can take care of me.” Your lips trail down to his jaw and you feel him force down a lump in his throat.

Hesitantly, for only a moment, he considers telling you to stop, to just talk about your feelings. You’re not some schoolgirl though, and you’re not someone he’s going to screw and forget about in a week. This isn’t going to be a one time thing with you. Genuinely, he wants to make you feel better and you’ve obviously got it set in your mind how that will happen. Logan gives you a small nod, grunting as you have him remove his button down till he’s left in his white undershirt. You move off his lap and undo his belt buckle, your eyes on him as his jaw tightens at the sight of you between his knees. “You don’t got-”

“Let me.” You say as you pull his hard cock out of his pants and kiss the head tenderly. Logan wants to take your mouth and shove himself deep down your throat in that moment, but he resists the urge. He lets you kiss him, he lets you slowly run your tongue around his length, he groans when your lips close around his tip. One of his hands is tangled in the back of your hair while his head hangs back slightly as you’re sinking your mouth around him. Your tongue cushions his heavy cock as you blow him, your hands pressed into his thighs while he’s guiding you gently. His other hand holds onto your arm as he shudders and jolts from the things your mouth is doing to him. “Mm,” You hum contently, your saliva spills down the sides of him as you gag and suck him off, stroking the underside of his veiny cock with your tongue until his precum begins to coat your tastebuds.

“Fuck, c’mere.” He says as he lifts you up, a pop sounds in the empty limousine as your mouth comes off his shaft. He pulls your scrub top off your body and he moistens his lips at the sight of your dark green lace bra, quickly pulling your bottoms off as well, confirming his suspicion that you’re wearing a matching set. You giggle softly as he pulls you back into his lap, his lips kiss sloppily at your breasts and the valley between them, his thick salt-and-pepper beard tickling you. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you whine as your clothed pussy rubs against his hard length. “You deserve better than that asshole.” He says, pulling your panties to the side so he can feel for your wet entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Oh, Logan.” You moan as you sink down on him and your eyes water from the stretch, surprised that for someone his age he is still so well hung and fit. You find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as he bounces you on his lap while you whine for him. “Uh, fuck!” You cry out as he continues kissing the tops of your breasts and your neck. “Logan, I want you so bad.” You gasp as his large hands grab fistfuls of your ass, spanking you hard and you tremble in his hold.

“It’s yours, sweetheart.” He grunts, sinking down slightly in the seat so he can watching you bounce on his cock. “Goddamnit, look at you.” He groans, his member throbbing and you whimper like a bitch in heat. You’ve thought about him like this before, you’ve gotten yourself off to the thought of him. It’s much better than your imagination could’ve made up. One of his hands comes up to fondle your tit, his thumb stroking your hard nipple through your bra as you’re rocking your hips into him. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder and you feel the tension building up in the pit of your lower belly. “You’re so damn pretty.” He groans, bucking up into you and your mouth falls open from the added force.

“‘M gonna cum, Logan.” You warn, your hands now balancing yourself on his chest as you’re bouncing rhythmically, your ass slapping against his thighs which are wet from your leaking arousal. Logan growls, the smell of you so intoxicating he can’t see anything, but the end goal which is to fill you with his seed. “Yes, fuck!” You scream out weakly, your head dropping forward as you’re shaking violently with the force of your orgasm.

Logan keeps you steady, holding you up by your waist as he fucks up into you with an animal-like pace. You feel him deep in your core, hitting your cervix repeatedly until he suddenly pins you down, his large hands hold onto your shoulders as he pumps his load inside you, the hot spurts of semen coat your walls and you feel it, so deep, so much of him filling you up all at once. “Fucking-” He groans, burying his face between your tits as he pants breathlessly, his muscles shuddering as you gently rub his back and shoulders. “Didn’t think I still had it in me.” Logan comments making you laugh. His eyes wrinkle at the corners as he smiles at the sound, your genuine laughter that he doesn’t get to hear often because of all the bullshit weighing on you. He’s honored you share it with him, humbled that you share yourself with him.

“That was the best I’ve had in a while.” You say with a warmth on your cheeks from the smirk he gives you as he shakes his head incredulously. “Thank you.” You whisper, kissing him softly, still sitting on his cock as you make out in the quiet lull that follows orgasms as intense as the ones you just experienced. His hands roam your body slowly as if committing every curve and shape to memory.

“No, sweetheart, thank you.” He says.

That night is committed to comfort. The next to experimenting. The following to pleasure, and so forth, until you find yourselves in a habit of simply seeking each other out for the sake of the love growing between you. Even if it doesn’t last long, even if it’ll only be a few months or a few years before he’s too weak to continue, you’ll still have the comfort of knowing what you had was real.

Oh, you know, just breaking my own heart one writing session at a time:’)

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12

[soobnny]

dating him | han jisung

❝ you found my heart broken and you helped me make it whole again ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | HAN | felix | seungmin | jeongin

i think you’re a second love type situation for han jisung

the one where he thought he’d never recover from his first heartbreak

but then here u come

i think han’s the type of person to feel everything

if he’s in love, he’s in LOVE

and if he’s hurt, it would just be overwhelming pain

so imagine how he was when he got his first heartbreak

he’d lose a little bit of his spark

maybe keep to himself even more than he used to

u come to his life in the form of a friend first

and han has unknowingly planted a seed that’s grown and grown and grown

with every interaction

with every laugh you’ve brought back

with every moment he was coming out of his shell again

until it’s fully bloomed into a love that’s very very real and very very present

han jisung would also love so beautifully

he knows what it’s like to be hurt, and he doesn’t ever want u to feel that same pain

he rly makes efforts

he is FULL of efforts

and he makes u laugh ☹️☹️☹️☹️

he communicates

and when the boys finally meet u, they’re very grateful but also

????!!!! why do u they know ur favorite color

and ur go-to order at the cafe

and the hoodie u like to steal from jisung the most

well turns out, han loves talking about u to his friends

they just know everything about u before even meeting u

he’d get rly shy about it but never embarrassed

he’d tell the whole world about u if he could

what else can i tell u

han jisung is just someone where nothing sounds crazy to him

so i think all ur dates with him would be so fun and adventurous lowk

amusement parks !!!!!

ice skating and roller blading

both of u would fall on ur ass

but you’d also laugh so much and somehow that makes up for everything

you’d be holding hands and skating with each other and looking at each other with lovesick smiles

I FEEL SICK!!!!!!!!

he’s always trying to impress u too

he tries to imitate figure skaters

kids don’t try this at home

ofc he fails miserably

obvious blushes when you’d tell him he was cute for trying

or when you’d praise him

anyways when i said he’s always trying to impress u i mean ALWAYS

he treats the relationship like he’s still pining after you

being the standard fr

he never lets go of the love

sometimes he’d still get shy to ask u out

somehow he doesn’t believe u actually said yes to him

he thinks he’s the luckiest boy

anyways, aside from adventurous dates, he equally values his inside time and quieter dates

he’s thankful u understand his shifts in his energy

on days u stay inside, you’d probably watch horror movies

look…. he suggests it….

it looked cool in his head to be all protective

you’d hold onto his arm when the jumpscares come

but

womp womp

he ends up being more afraid than u

and now HE’S holding ur arm

yeah it looked way cooler in his head

you’d play silly little board games together

or maybe charades

he’s so easily amused by sexual innuendos

he’s just a man guys

anyways

there are two things he loves to steal from u the most

aside from ur kisses

and it’s (1) ur perfume and (2) ur lip balm

u’d catch him putting on ur perfume just bc he wants to be surrounded by ur scent

it’s very comforting

one time, he was sick and the boys were taking care of him

and when u finally had time to take over and care for ur bf

u just …. smell ur perfume

“did you put on my perfume?”

“i missed you ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

DOWN BADDDDD

he’s so pouty and so cute

let’s suffocate him with the pillow

KIDDINGGGGGG KIDDING

and then ur lip balm

sometimes he steals the actual thing

sometimes he kisses you so he can have it on his lips too

han jisung is also the type to avail every possible couple coupon

and he’s always begging the cashiers to let u prove u’re a couple

it’s so he has an excuse to kiss you

so

months into dating him also means a thousand love letters

he loves writing u love letters

and u know sooner that he also writes songs

on ur anniversary, he reveals a song he’s written for you

and when he proposes, he tells u about every single one he’d ever written about you and for you

wish that were me 😂😂😂😂😂

TAKE CARE OF HIM

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[strawbeerossi]

August || Chapter One

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: After a few days, you are back at the office whenever you have an emotional outburst over the JJ/Spencer situation. That leaves you to have a soul shattering boundary you need to put into place.

Content/Warnings: Drama in the workplace, mentions of questioning self worth, Penelope is the best friend ever (duh), horrible friends, Spencer is an ass (again, sorry lmao)

WC: 2K

Navigation || August Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @sadroses98 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @cultish-corner @s0urmarvel @measure-in-pain @yourfavoritefangirl @imjustheretoreads-blog @bookworm003 @finnysmusic @itsbritney123 @hizzielover @tlou-reid @babyspiderling @sunsebaessie @lilrios-world @reidsdaisies @heleaflm @emotionalecho @witchcraftandwit @azxulaa @small-and-violent @corpsebridenightamare

“I don’t think I can come in today. I’m sick." You spoke to Emily over the phone, even feigning a cough, as you were just hoping she’d fall for it. It was only a few days after the wedding, the whole water in the face incident creeping up to embarrass you. 

“You can’t avoid them forever, you know. Now come to the office. All you need to do is work and then go home. No need to talk to JJ or Spencer.” The unit chief spoke over the phone, her tone making you just feel the disapproving look on her face. 

“Fine..” You huffed a bit while pushing yourself up from your couch, already dressed for the day, anyway. “I’ll be there soon.” With a defeated sigh, you were hanging up the phone and pocketing the device. It would be a good day, right? All you had to do was get through it.

The drive to the office was horrible, feeling nauseous with each mile you drove. Most people would assume that after your small outburst at the wedding, you’d feel better. That was far from the case. The action just made you feel worse, knowing that Spencer nor JJ attempted to follow you out, to explain themselves. There was radio silence from both of them.

You probably should’ve expected that. 

As you arrived at the dreaded building and parked in the parking garage, it wasn’t long until you were on the elevator and on your way up to the floor you needed to get to. The more you stood there, the sicker you felt. Facing two people who you are forced to work with is going to do nothing but hurt you even further. You could quit, although then you’d be homeless. Putting in a transfer was a good option, even if you’d miss your other teammates. 

The sound of the elevator’s ding was tearing you from your thoughts, your steps deliberately smaller and slower just to take the last few seconds to prepare yourself. The minute your hand was on the glass doors of the bullpen, you knew there was no more hiding. 

Much to your surprise, the team was too busy at their desks to even look up. Thank god. You quietly approached your desk, your purse being placed underneath, as you took your seat. That got everyone’s attention.

“Hey.” Luke spoke first, a smile on his face. “You’re later than you usually are, was worried we’d have to come get you.” He joked, causing Tara to laugh softly from her desk.

“We would’ve been there too. It isn’t a good workday when you’re not here.”

At least you knew the rest of the team considered you as a friend. No way they’d ever do the things JJ and Spencer did to you. Just thinking of them had a frown on your face, your eyes on a file that you’d opened previously. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave my favorite people hanging, could I?” You finally broke the silence while offering a forced smile. The idea of a transfer just made you feel horrible now. You were stuck here, no escape in sight.

While you were working on a case file you’d neglected, it wasn’t long before the door was opening again. This time, there was laughter and lighthearted discussion from two very distinct voices that you recognized. God damn it.

It was best to keep your eyes down, even though you could feel every person’s eyes burning into your skin, just waiting for a reaction. You felt like a circus act, expected to perform based on one interaction you had a few days ago.

The three of you didn’t even have to look each other in the eyes in order to make the whole room thick with tension that the strongest knife couldn’t even cut. “Can we be adults? I really don’t wanna discuss what happened.” JJ spoke up, knowing the attention was on all three of you. 

The audacity of her wanting to move on was what made you finally turn around, your ears heating from the anger that was still deep inside you. “Are you kidding me? You wanna be an adult and not get questions?” You asked, unable to help the laugh that fell from your lips. “Here’s a question that I know you want to be asked; How’s Will doing? Judging by how you wasted his time for.. Eleven years? Better yet, how are Michael and Henry? I think that someone needs to look out for them.” Venom seeped deep into every syllable.

She had a family. A husband who loved her, children who adored her and needed her. Yet here she was, with a man who she hadn’t even shown any interest in. The whole situation made you sick to even think about.

“That’s not fair.” The blonde spoke up, visibly hurt by the topic being brought up. The absolute fucking nerve. 

“You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Will and the boys at all. I guess you didn’t stop to think about them, did you?”

“Enough!” Emily snapped from the doorway of her office, arms crossed over her chest. “This is ridiculous. The last thing any of us need is you two bickering all the time. I suggest you solve this and let it go. I will not deal with the bullshit. I’m sorry.” 

The frustration of your unit chief made you take a breath, putting your hands up. “I can’t pretend like this is right and I will not endorse this fraud of a relationship. If you choose to fire me, that’s fine.” Your built up anger and hurt made you push in your chair, your purse on your arm as you were storming out of the bullpen.

Penelope was the one that caught you in the hallway as you were making your escape. “Wait!” She screamed, quickly following behind you and grabbing your arm before you could make it to the elevator. “Come hang out with me for a little bit. Don’t make any rash decisions.” 

You didn’t answer, instead just letting the tech analyst pull you behind her into the safety of the batcave. As soon as that heavy door was closed and you realized you were with one of your best friends, it was like the dam holding in all your tears had been burst open as a hot stream of tears was running down your cheeks.

“Oh, honey..” Penelope frowned softly as she was letting her arms wrap around your body, giving you a tight squeeze as she was rubbing your back. “It’s okay, you can sit in here as long as you want. We will just tell Emily that you need some Garcia time.” Everyone could benefit from such time. 

You were forced into one of the chairs while the bubbly blonde grabbed one of her many phones to inform Emily on what was going on. “Just so you know, I don’t think you’re wrong for feeling the way you do. I would be just as upset.” She assured, the woman now sitting down beside you while gently holding your hand. “I just think that you should maybe calm down a bit. We don’t need any physical fights.” 

“I can’t help it, Pen. Why? Why would JJ encourage me to tell Spencer how I feel about him and then jump on him at the next opportunity. She has a family.” You knew that she wouldn’t have a concrete answer for you but you had to admit, it was nice just ranting to her about it. “It also hurts knowing that Spencer just.. Stopped talking to me. It made me feel like I was a placeholder for her. Like he was just entertaining himself until what he truly wanted came around..” 

There was a soft silence between you both, though it was soon being broken whenever there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Penelope called to the mystery guest, although the both of you were in a stunned silence whenever Spencer Reid was poking his head through the door. 

“I come in peace, just let me talk.” 

“Too little, too late. I don’t wanna hear it.” You spoke, standing your ground.

Instead of taking the hint, the man just entered the room before closing the door behind him. “I understand that you’re mad at me, pissed at me even. I can handle it. That being said, I don’t want trouble. I came to personally apologize. I was a shitty friend to you these past few days with not reaching out.” 

“You are a shitty friend, Spencer. You know, I thought you were supposed to be by my side. I don’t expect you to be madly in love with me but what kind of friend ignores someone for days? What kind of friend makes their friend feel unimportant and makes them question their self worth?” You asked, keeping your composure as you were going to put everything on the table.

“I think you’re a horrible friend. Not just to me but to Will. I think you’re a horrible person who broke up a family. JJ may have left Will but you didn’t even stop and try to make her consider her husband. You were selfish.”

It seemed like a sobering realization, judging by the way Spencer’s eyes widened and his body went stiff. He needed to hear that, even if he wasn’t planning on changing things. “I- Wow. I don’t know what to say,” He let out an awkward chuckle as his hand rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’m sure you don’t. Doesn’t sound like a good situation whenever someone says it out loud, does it?” You asked, voice cracking toward the end of the sentence as you were clearing your throat. “I just want you to know that I have no interest in talking to you outside of work. I think it’s best for you just to stay away.” A necessary boundary that killed you inside, however it needed to be put into place. 

“You don’t mean that. I don’t wanna lose you permanently like that. Please, just take some time to consider.”

“You lost me the moment that you chose to devote every ounce of your time to someone who didn’t ever say that she wanted to be with you until the night you were in a hostage situation together.” 

“We weren’t even dating, listen to yourself. We had sex, what, a few times? I hardly find that as something serious, especially whenever you never even seemed like you objected to the thought of something casual.” 

“Spencer Reid!” Penelope’s horrified voice was what solidified that you weren’t crazy, that he was in the wrong just as much as you could be.

You wanted to scream, punch him, cry, and just lose it. This wasn’t the place for such outbursts but you knew that the minute you got out of everyone’s line of sight, you were going to shatter. 

Your nights spent with Spencer were something you cherished. The way he’d touch you, the way he’d hold you.. It just felt like there was something real there, the potential for a love story that you could read about in novels, see in movies, even hear in songs. Instead, you were casted off as a casual plaything. There was no care behind the long nights spent tangled in one another’s embrace. 

“You know,” There was a laugh erupting, your arms over your chest. “JJ is gonna get bored of you. If she can leave her husband, she will leave you too. I think the day she does that is the day that you will feel the same way that I do. And you know what? I hope it fucking hurts. I hope she keeps you up at night wondering why you weren’t good enough.” 

With that, you were done. Emily would most definitely be calling you in her office for a meeting in the morning, so you just grabbed your bag and walked to the elevator.

You said what you needed to say and you thought it would make you feel relieved, instead, there was more hurt than you could’ve possibly fathomed. 

How stupid you were to think that he actually saw something in you.

[skzstoryvault]

Relax! Take it easy <3 (Hyunjin, a bit spicy)

F! Reader x boyfriend Hyunjin

very short read

one-shot

Hyunjin is sick and exhausted and needs a bit of persuasion to allow himself some time to recover

Hyunjin is also super cute and very whipped for his girl

This story contains some lazy, sleepy sex

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real persons depicted here. They all deserve the world.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

Hyunjin has been having a bad luck streak lately. First, his voice began to fail him, then his joints and muscles started acting up. He’s had his wisdom teeth extracted and went to a fan event right after and now? Now he has a bad shoulder that hurts with every movement he makes. It comes and goes, the pain, and his doctors don’t know what the cause is or how to treat it just yet.

“Jinnie, you are exhausted, that’s why it feels like you are falling apart. You need to take it easy for a bit. Get a few days of back-to-back rest and good sleep so your body can have the chance to recover...” You tell him, watching him sit curled up miserably at the top of your bed and putting his favorite blanket of yours around his shoulders. “I can’t, Stay will mind.” 

“I’m a Stay too and I say I want you happy and recharged, and if I had a choice, I’d rather not see you for a while than see you crumble on stage or dance with tears of pain in your eyes.” “You just say that because you love me.” “Yes! As would anyone who knows you. Jinnie, please. Please rest.” “But Channie-hyung will be upset, and so will Scheduling.” “I’ll make the calls, okay?” “We don’t have anything for Friday and Saturday, maybe I can rest then?”

“I will still call, so they don’t see the free slots and book you anyway.” “Thank you.” Hyunjin says, looking wretched and small from his blanket cocoon. “You know I love you? You care so much, and look after me so well.” “I love you too, Jinnie. A lot-lot, you know?” You give back, leaning in to smooth the hair from his forehead and kiss the clammy skin. On the phone, Chan is, of course, understanding and concerned. The people in Scheduling are a bit more neurotic about the news, but even they are aware that Hyunjin is no good to them in his current state. 

When you return to your boyfriend’s side, he is napping with his nose buried into the blanket you gave him. You approach to tuck him in more securely, and he sleepily reaches for you. 

“Don’t go, please.” His voice comes out as a creaky, pitiful whisper. 

You relent immediately and lie down next to him. He sleepily rearranges himself around you and spreads the blanket over both of you. Not a minute passes before he takes his nose out of the blanket and buries it in the skin at the side of your neck, moving it up and down and side to side, managing to tickle you. “Hey now, rest first. We can horse around later.” You gently chide, running a hand through his hair and scritching his scalp to help him relax. He huffs into your shoulder in protest, but behaves. It’s evening when you wake up, having fallen asleep next to Hyunjin as well. The first thing you become aware of is how hard he is under the thigh you have flung over him. The second is that he’s at least partially awake and covertly rubbing himself against your thigh, holding it in place with one of his hands. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh almost desperately, like he’s afraid you will turn to smoke and escape him if he loosens his hold the slightest bit.

He has so much on his plate, your baby. He is trying to please so many people and he neglects himself so much. So him wanting to get off even while still mostly asleep, and wanting to use you to help, softens you to the extreme.

“Baby? Are you with me? How are you feeling?” You ask, lifting your head so you can start peppering sloppy kisses to his lips and around, moving on to nibble on his jaw and neck. 

“Sleepy… and hard.” He says, pouting. “Wanna hit.” “So why don’t you? I’m right here. You can just… “ “Mhhh yes, yes. Thank you.” He whispers. “‘m lazy.” 

“Shhh, I know. Let me.” You make quick work of his and your underwear, lying back down half on top of him and nuzzling the warm skin of his neck before seeking his lips for a kiss. Your hair falls between you like a curtain, sheltering you from the rest of the world and you blindly, but with sure moves, take him inside you, hissing at the way his cock spreading you open feels. It never gets old - that first breach, the shock to your senses. This time it’s accompanied by a scarily intense spasm of your womb, and that’s undiluted arousal and anticipation on your part as you take all of him in. “Awh, fuck. So deep.” Hyunjin’s voice rings strained. “So… tight. It’s always like the first time with you.” 

Another spasm deep inside you, stronger this time, makes you scrunch your features  - it’s the same part of you that’s trying to kill you once a month, letting you know you’re aroused off your tits and giving you a spasm of pleasure so intense it nearly swings into pain, making your features contort from how intense it feels. This has nothing to do with how big Hyunjin is inside you or how harsh his thrusts are. It’s just a deeply human, almost petty satisfaction at feeling how good he’s making you feel and that he and not someone else is giving you this much pleasure. 

“What was that? Did… did I hurt you? Angle change?” He asks, immediately concerned for you although just seconds ago he was lost to his own enjoyment, eyes closed and head pushed back into the pillow. 

“No, no, keep going, it’s just… sometimes some other organs join in my feeling good.”

Hyunjin gasps and indulges your request. You push yourself up with your hands on his t-shirt covered chest, sighing at the change of angle adding yet another layer of sensation. But you don’t sit up straddling him all the way, needing the closeness to get the friction against your clit. “Oh fuck… hell, no!” Hyunjin panics, looking at you apologetically. “I’m- I’m g-g-go… aghhh, fuck-” His losing his composure to how good it feels to be inside you, fucking you, also throws you over the edge. You lean back down, wanting to kiss his moans and unhinged whines into yourself, feeling like a succubus thriving off the stolen pleasure of your willing victim. 

All through his high, he keeps his eyes on you, watching you in this absolutely rapt way, reaching up and touching your lips in awe, caressing your cheek, then tracing the gentle contours of your boobs through the fabric of your shirt. 

“How are you real? How are you mine?” He whispers, his voice still hoarse and betraying how gone he is. “And you let me come inside you… I feel like I’m desecrating a temple every time.” 

You smile, liking how awed his little ramblings get when his mind is completely switched off. 

“I’m not complaining. But if it makes you feel better, you can think you’re an ancient Greek. They used to bring erm... seeds as offerings for their goddess of the harvest.” “I want to give you something you can actually use!” Hyunjin says, smiling like the best inspiration ever just struck him. “Soon as I feel better and get up from here… I’ll make you a nice kimchi with no fish guts… and the fattest kimbap roll you’ve ever seen, with the yummiest filling. Maybe even some hotteok too, if I manage. Mhmmmmm. You will have the happiest belly in all of Seoul.” You laugh softly. He’s slipping into a restful sleep, and even now, all he’s thinking of is how he can please you more. “Oh you’re on, mister. Don’t think I won’t hold you to that… but for now, just focus on feeling better.” 

[themattgirl]

could you please make one where Chris and reader are dating and reader feels sick and Chris just takes care of her and acts all sweet and stuff? 🫠

an: thank you for the request ily 🧡

this turned out so much longer than i intended

this isn’t my first one shot but it’s the first with one of the sturniolo triplets in it. 

obviously their characters have been altered by me a little to fit into the story but i tried to make it as realistic as possible by keeping their personality traits as they are in real life.

also comment or like this post if you want to be added to the taglist

pairing: chris x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fluff, use of ‘babe’ and ‘ma’ as pet names for reader, intentional wrong spelling in text messages to make it more realistic, mentions of nsfw themes, swearing, lots of playful teasing between characters

y/n’s dialogue  

chris’ dialogue

matt’s dialogue

nick’s dialogue

mary lou’s dialogue

“it’s just a cold, nothing serious i promise. i don’t think i can come over today though, i don’t wanna infect any of you. i’m sorry for ruining movie night,” i say to chris on facetime before breaking into a cough. i turn the camera away from me, not wanting him to see me in a disgusting state like this. if i could, i would’ve muted myself so he doesn’t have to listen to it either. plus, i know how worried he gets with any type of sickness or unwell feeling really.

so, of course it wouldn’t be chris if he didn’t immediately furrow his brows.

“babe no, don’t apologize. you didn’t choose to get sick.”

he gets up from where he was sitting on the couch and goes downstairs to his bedroom. he puts the phone down so all i can see now is his ceiling. his voice sounds a little farther away when he speaks again, “it doesn’t really sound like nothing serious, does anything hurt?”

“to be honest, my whole body has been aching since i woke up this morning. it’s not too bad, just a dull ache, i can still move and all that, even if i’d prefer to just lay here and rot away,” i laugh and hold back the cough that wants to escape right after in hopes it would make him worry a little less. vainly.

“your voice sounds stuffy and kinda hoarse, does your throat hurt?”

“i forgot you turn into a doctor every time somebody doesn’t feel great,” i roll my eyes even though he can’t see it with his phone still down and him on the other side of the room from how distant his voice sounds.

“shut up, y/n. you feel worse than ‘not great’. you’re not fooling anyone with that act.”

he reappears on the screen. now i can see what he has been doing in the time i couldn’t see him. he put on a hoodie over the tank top he had been wearing before, the hair he had put up in a little ponytail - if you could even call it that - in the front has been untied and brushed. or maybe he just ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, that’d be more like it.

“anyways baby, imma call mom real quick. be right back,” he hangs up before i get the chance to respond.

i put the phone down next to me on the bed i’ve been in since i realized this morning how much it hurt to stand up and how i felt like i was gonna throw up every time i moved too hastily.

i took a deep breath - well, as deep as a breath can get when your nose is clogged - and closed my eyes to try and concentrate on something other than the throbbing pain in my head.

i feel so much worse than how i described it to chris and i feel bad for kind of lying to him, i do. but he has been dealing with so much of his own lately - new designs for his brand, fixing the shipping issues with some of the orders from his last drop, coming up with video ideas and prefilming those before him, nick and matt go on tour again, preparing everything for said tour - see, he really doesn’t need me to add to his things-to-worry-about-list, especially if he can’t do anything to fix it and it’ll go away on its own anyway.

i feel my phone’s vibration from somewhere in between the sheets and grab it. it's messages from nick.

hey y/n heard your not feeling so good (:/ smiley) i was really excited to see you again today but don’t you dare feel guilty for it

i know how you guilt trip yourself into thinking everything is your fault

its kind of a good thing bc now i have time to get the matching pjs we wanted

hope you feel better soon tho

matts sick too maybe you got it from him when you helped him decorate his room yesterday

I hey y/n heard your not feeling so good 😕 i was really excited to see you again today but don’t you dare feel guilty for it

word spreads faaast 😂 i’m so sad i gotta wait another week or so to see you again i only like sleepovers cuz of u but dont tell chris 🤫

I i know how you guilt trip yourself into thinking everything is your fault

seriously i hate that yk me so well 😐

I its kind of a good thing bc now i have time to get the matching pjs we wanted

at first i was like 🤨 but then i kept reading i LOVE YOUU SO MUCH OMG just so yk chris was the second option

I hope you feel better soon tho

me too now i’m excited for the pajamaaas 😫

I matts sick too maybe you got it from him when you helped him decorate his room yesterday 🤔

i’m gonna kill him like fr this time

hey where tf is chris??

talking to mom shes teaching him sth honestly don’t ask idk

ok 😂 i think im gonna take a nap talk later?

yess get some rest and lmk if you need anything ❤️

ly❤️❤️

after sending the last message i get a call from matt. i contemplate not picking up for a second but decide against it.

“what?”

“uff, what’s that attitude?”

“i’m sick because of you, shithead.”

“we don’t know that. what if you’re the one who passed it on to me, hm? besides, i was just calling to tell you to drink some water and to ask if you need anything. i was actually being nice but you clearly don’t deserve it,” his voice is just as bad as mine, if not worse which makes me feel a little bad, but matt wouldn’t be one of my best friends if i had to worry about him getting mad every time i’m not nice. that’s actually how we bonded after annoying each other every chance we got. we both have a bit of an attitude problem which caused a lot of irritation and aggravation. now we get along better than any pair of best friends. the teasing stayed in place, but now we both know there’s only endless love behind it. sometimes you just gotta let off a bit of steam and we both just get that.

“fine, i’m sorry. sickness really does turn you soft, huh?” i smirk.

“why’re you saying it like you just confirmed a theory?”

“mary lou told me once and i’ve been waiting ever since to see for myself, guess she was right.”

“you are actually the worst. i’m hanging up now. drink water, bye.”

he hangs up the phone and i laugh to myself. what a big baby.

i open chris’ chat and type in a message telling him i’m going to sleep and that i will call him once i wake up again. i don’t bother waiting for a reply and just put the phone on my nightstand. i turn on my side, close my eyes and after that i don’t notice anything anymore.

i jolt up from bed, breathing heavy, body sweaty and heart racing. my room is dark, lit up only by the moon shining through my window. i look around trying to remember where i am and shake the nightmare from my mind.

i reach for my phone and check the time.

11:43 pm

i turn on the flashlight and right when i notice a black jacket hung over the back of my desk chair i hear footsteps coming closer.

chris pushes the door open and steps in.

“oh shit, did i wake you?”

“no i had a nightmare. what are doing here?”

i sit upright in bed and turn the flashlight off when chris flips the switch to turn on the fairy lights around the edges of my ceiling.

he moves to sit on the bed next to me before he answers, “i had mom teach me how to make her get-well-quick-soup and brought you some. she also told me about the perfect remedy tea, i can make it for you,” he stands up again immediately, “i’ll heat up the soup for you first. shit ma, have you even eaten anything today?” he stands by the door, holding the handle but looking back over his shoulder at me.

“chris,” i honestly don’t know what to say to him. he is so sweet i have to fight the tears that build up on my waterline. i just look at him for a moment, a little smile ghosting on my lips.

i’m well aware of how caring, considerate and compassionate chris is as a person in general, but it still baffles me sometimes how much he goes out of his way to make others feel good. i guess i’m just not used to it, being loved like this, having someone do everything that lies in their hands - and beyond that - just for me. it’s astonishing to say the least. especially when i myself have had issues with showing how deeply i cherish somebody ever since i can remember. it’s probably rooted somewhere in my past and how my affection has been received and responded to, that’s what my therapist says anyway.

i shake myself out of my thoughts and move the blanket away from my body to finally get up. immediately chris is beside me, holding me in place, “what’re you doing, ma? stay here i’ll bring it up,” he talks quietly, trying to get me to take in my previous lying position but i stay put on the ground.

“babe, i have been in this bed almost all day. i need to get up. i’ll just come down with you, we can eat together in the kitchen,” i try to convince him.

he looks at me, an uncertain expression on his face for a few seconds, the gears in his head almost visibly turning while he thinks about it. at last he lets out a sigh and nods, “alright then, hop on my back,” he bends over in a piggy back position in front of me and i can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

“you do know i can walk, right?” i ask still chuckling.

“i know, come ooon, just do it,” he urges me on and wiggles his hips, making me laugh even harder when i climb on his back.

“you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow, chris,” i complain mournfully once he lets me down to sit on the kitchen counter while he gets to heating up the soup he brought.

chris insists he’s not prone to catch a cold or any sickness easily, no matter how contagious or how close to the source he might be, even though he has proven himself wrong multiple times on more occasions than he cares to admit.

“no i won’t. besides, i could use a few days off even if i have to be sick to get that,” he lets out a huff of air trying to make it sound humorous, but both of us - and everyone who knows chris for that matter - knows that he is exhausted and is in desperate need of a break.

i know he doesn’t want me to get serious about that topic right now though so i try to change routes, “oh my god,” he turns around from where he was stirring the soup on the stove and faces me, confused about my shocked exclamation. i point an accusatory finger at him, my jaw hanging low but a smile still creeping it’s way on my face.

“so that’s why you’re here. you came to try and get infected, that’s why you carried me down too even though you know damn well i coulda walked by myself. and i’m here thinking you were actually being the best boyfriend on earth. turns out my man is a piece of shit,” by the end i fail to stay serious and let out a giggle. well, it’s not like he actually believed that i meant what i was saying but still.

he lets go of everything he was holding, turns around to me fully and begins to stalk toward me slowly.

“oh yeah?” i don’t know if it’s just me or if he’s doing it on purpose but all of a sudden his voice sounds deeper, his face more stern and serious.

“is that what you think then? i’m just a piece of shit?” he makes me nervous at first but the second i see the smirk on his lips i know exactly what’s about to follow.

“chris. no.”

he is standing right in front of me, so close he has positioned himself in between my legs, his hands on the counter on either side of me, trapping me. the finger i was pointing at him long since taken back.

“am i a piece of shit when i make you cum with just my tongue?” his face is so close now.

“stop,” i say quieter than i mean to, almost whisper-like.

“or when i fuck you so good you can’t walk right for days, am i a piece of shit then?”

this asshole is doing it on purpose. he knows i would never have sex with him when i’m sick so he’s trying to rile me up the little fucker. have i mentioned that i actually hate him. like for real hate him. the type of hate that leads to an absolutely mindblowing fuck. shit.

“or yesterday when you told matt you needed a break and came downstairs to my room to suck me off and then you just wiped your mouth and went back up like nothing happened. did you do it because i’m a piece of shit?”

my jaw is on the floor.

“or when–”

“OKAY,” i practically scream, “you’re the best and i didn’t mean what i said, just please stop.”

i’m almost whining at this point.

i try to rub my legs together to ease some of the friction unnoticeably but chris is like a hawk, sees everything, notices everything. and then he smiles. just smiles and goes back to the soup.

later that night, after i was forced to eat almost all of the soup and drink two cups of magic tea while chris downed a cheese burger, fries and three of the last four pepsi cans i had in my fridge, we snuggled up on the couch with a heavy blanket that chris had also asked his mom for, thrown over both of our laps and a random movie playing on the tv. 

neither one of us actually felt like watching something but we threw it on as background noise anyway. chris and i have barely seen each other in almost two weeks so all we want right now is to enjoy each other's company. he has been so busy with all that’s coming up for him and his brothers, still is. and i've been studying like crazy because i always feel like i won’t pass if i don’t and when i wasn’t busy with that i’d be at work to earn my living and feel like i’m doing enough. so there wasn't really time for us to actually be together and get to enjoy it. i've missed it.

“you know you’re probably sick because you exhaust yourself all the time,” chris says when he turns to look at me.

“shh,” i shush him with my eyes closed and a smile on my lips, “i got it from matt, no discussion.”

he lets out a little laugh at that, “yes discussion. if you keep going like that, one day it’s gonna have more serious effects on your health than a cold. you don’t even need to do all that. how many times do i have to tell you your life is worth enough even if you don’t work yourself half to death and have a little fun every once in a while,” he rubs my thigh while talking. chris knows better than anyone that i don’t like being put on the spot and lectured about my not-so-healthy habits like that, especially when i know exactly that it’s in fact very unhealthy. but he also insists on having these talks with me because he knows i would shut out everyone else who’d dare to try immediately. he and his brothers are the only three people i have let come so close and they make use of that quite often, might i say. but it’s okay because these people are my best friends and i know i need to be put in check sometimes, i admit. nobody else would dare try but them so i just let them. 

i must say, it has helped me improve my life to an extent. they taught me that it’s okay to cut ties with people who are bad for my mental health and encourage bad habits, and that i don’t owe shit to them even if they want to make me believe that. they kept telling me “quality friends are worth so much more than a big amount of bad ones” until it finally clicked in my brain and i blocked half of my contact list.

“look who’s talkin’. mister i work twice as hard as the person i try to lecture,” i jab my finger in his side and he jerks.

“you know that’s different,” he holds my hands in his to stop me from doing it again.

i like feeling his hands on mine. i know he’s my boyfriend and it might be weird to say it like that. but i haven’t seen him in so long, which means i also haven’t felt him in so long. it’s crazy but it almost feels like in the beginning when we were scared to touch each other and would act like we accidentally brushed our hand on the other but we both knew it was fully on purpose.

chris pulls me out of my thoughts again when he speaks, “at least i have an end in sight and work’s gonna be way more relaxed once i’m done with everything. with you there’s always–”

the ringing of his phone cuts him off and he takes a look at the caller id, his mom. he narrows his eyes at me and gives me a look that says “we’re not done yet” but picks up the phone and holds it up so she can see the both of us on the screen.

“i was going to ask chris about you but since you’re with him please pinch him for me,” is the first thing mary lou says when she looks at us. and i gladly do as she says even though i don't know what he did to deserve it.

“oww, what was that for?” chris asks whining and i just shrug and chuckle.

“you told me you would bring y/n the soup and go back home. you lied to me.”

i turn to him with my mouth hanging open, “christopher owen, how dare you?”

it’s so fun to aggravate chris.

he furrows his brows at me and then looks back at the screen, “she literally begged me,” he straight up lies. “i was trying to tell her i didn’t wanna get sick so i could only drop off the soup and blanket and would have to leave again but then she started crying–”

i hit him for real this time, hard enough to make him suck air through his teeth.

“mary lou, don’t believe a word he says.”

“i know, darling, you wouldn’t do that. chris, that’s twice you’ve lied today.”

“sorry, mom,” he actually looks defeated now, “you know i can’t just leave her all alone when she’s like this. i lied because i didn’t wanna worry you. i won’t get sick though,” at that me and her give each other a knowing look but let him continue, “y/n’s weak and in pain, of course i’ll be by her side as much as i can, you probably knew i was here, that’s why you called me,” chris wiggles his finger at his mom with a cheeky smile while she’s trying to hide her own.

“alright, alright,” she gives in, “that’s how young love is, i guess. anyway, have you eaten the soup yet?”

“almost all of it,” i report proudly, rubbing my stomach.

“only forced,” chris side-eyes me and i roll my eyes at him.

“and the tea?” mary lou just keeps going. well, i definitely know where her son gets the caring from.

i grab the mug that’s been sitting on the table for two hours and could now be considered iced tea and hold it up for her to see, “this is my third,” i take a sip.

“very good. okay, well, i just wanted to check if chris is taking good care of you. it’s important for you to get enough rest, don’t go to sleep too late, alright darling? i have to go now but if you need something just give me a call. i’ll talk to you both in the morning. good night, i love you,” she blows two kisses as we tell her we love her and then she ends the call.

right when chris puts his phone down we hear the doorbell ring.

we both glance at the direction of the front door as if we could see through it and figure out who’s standing on the other side. then we turn and look at each other.

“expecting someone?” chris asks me and i just shake my head no and shrug unknowingly.

“open up!” the voice sounds muffled but it’s unmistakably matt.

chris rolls his eyes and sighs loudly and i just giggle.

he moves the blanket and gets up to go open the door but stops in his tracks suddenly, turns around again, bends down and kisses me.

“won’t be able to do that for a while if he’s here,” he explains before he goes.

matt and nick do complain every time we kiss in front of them, so we agreed on trying not to do it anymore. they act like little kids being forced to see their parents being all lovey-dovey with each other. at least one of them always yells “GET A ROOM!” as if they’re not invading our personal space. big babies, like i said.

“what’s up, bitches?” nick walks in wearing the pajamas we wanted to match, holding up his hands. one holding what i assume is my set of the exact same one and a pillow in his other hand.

i jump up from the couch immediately and squeal as i run toward him to hug him.

“what are you doing here?” i ask once we let go of each other, our smiles still as big as ever.

“since chris is here breathing in germs and this one,” he points his thumb over his shoulder where matt is giving chris a pajama pair, “is already sick i thought we might as well have our movie night here since i’m getting it from one of you either way.”

“i’m so happy,” i squeak, elongating the words.

“aren’t you happy to see me too?” matt acts sad and offended when he moves to stand next to nick.

i roll my eyes but give him a big hug, “i am actually.”

chris scoffs and we all laugh. he moves to stand closer to me and i wrap my arms around him, tilting my head to look at him.

“you guys can go in the kitchen, grab some snacks while me and chris put on our pajamas,” i say to nick and matt, my eyes still locked on my boyfriend.

they do as they’re told once the’ve put down their things and soon enough they’re out of sight.

“you good?” chris asks me quietly, stroking my hair gently

“yeah. i just realized our alone time is over,” i respond in a hushed tone.

he gives me a kiss on the forehead before he talks, “it’s okay, we’ll just go up to your room when they’re asleep. nothing’s keeping me away from you tonight.”

hearing it makes comfort spread in my chest in a way i didn’t know i needed right now.

“i love you so much, chris. thank you for everything,” i try to sound genuine, because i truly am.

he holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger and dips his head until his lips meet mine.

“i love you too, ma.”

taglist:

@strniolosworld @that-general-simp @sturniolosreads @whoreforchr1s

[wooahaes]

dream a little dream with me

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 9/13

word count: 4.7k~

warnings: skinship. food mentions. some slight angst.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a soulmate i meet with in my dreams...

summary: Jeonghan knows you. He might not know your face, but you’re the person in his dreams every night. And frankly… he’s pretty sure he’s already falling for you. He just has to figure out how to find you when the world won’t let him trade names or locations or anything he can actually use. At least he knows your favorite things…

"Hello...?"

Jeonghan was maybe thirteen when he finally met you for the first time, and you'd already proven him wrong with your existence alone. When he had turned ten, he expected to feel... something. To lose all the colors within his vision, or maybe he would feel your pain or something physical. A name, your first thoughts, your first words... Except he felt nothing. It'd upset him, sure--most people were upset by that kind of thing just on the account of being considered an outsider to their peers. Yet now he'd found himself in a museum filled with paintings he couldn't fully make out, and surrounded by people with blurry faces... Except for you.

He'd blinked. "Hello?"

And you lit up, making your way over to him. "You're...?"

Jeonghan had furrowed his brow, watching you carefully. Why could he see you...? "I'm Jeonghan," he had said, thinking that was what you meant.

You'd given him your given name, too--last name melting into white noise for a second. For a moment, you stood there, brimming with excitement. "We're--We're soulmates."

Immediately, he'd felt lighter at the revelation. "Oh!" Then he paused, brows drawing together once more as a follow-up thought pushed into his head immediately. "Why haven't we met before?"

He'd seen the way you grew more upset, gaze no longer meet his own. "I'm... It's complicated." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I think... Our sleep schedules don't overlap?" You looked up. "I laid down to take a nap for a bit because I was feeling sick, so..."

So you weren't near him. He felt a sting of rejection, even though you hadn't said anything of the sort.. Emotions were weird at thirteen, after all, and something like his soulmate not being near him. Obviously, it wasn't your fault: you didn't pick where you lived. He looked around, and felt... awkward. It was different than meeting someone for the first time in reality. At least other people were around. Now, it just you and him in this dream together.

"Do you wanna talk?" He said after a moment. "Since... I don't know if I'll get to see you again."

"You aren't mad?"

He shook his head. "I just wish you were closer," he crossed his arms. "This isn't fair."

You frowned. "It's not... So let's talk."

The two of you strolled on your own, getting to know one another. He learned the country you were from, even though he wouldn't know what city or town you were in. He learned about this doughnut place in your hometown, though, that you loved to visit when you could. He told you school stories and about his own friends, about the pranks he'd pulled on his little sister... Little things to learn about one another. He learned your favorite color, you learned the foods he disliked...

And then all too soon, you had disappeared within seconds. He had called for you, only to realize that you must have woken up--or been woken up, since it was so sudden. When he woke up the next morning for school, he told his parents that he'd met his soulmate in his dreams (even though he couldn't fully remember your face once he was awake).

Thus began the cycle. He probably needed the naps he would start taking in an attempt to meet you again, but he'd grown used to pushing through his fatigue to work on schoolwork or to spend time with friends. Yet his parents always knew where he'd be when they came home from work, finding him asleep on his bed as he hoped to meet you again.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could sit with you for a little while, long enough to see you off before you woke up for your own schooling. Other times, he'd get home far too late to see you. But every time the two of you met over the rest of your teenage years, you made it work. The two of you would talk more about yourselves, getting to know each other better. He learned how to tell when you were upset, and would let you vent if you needed to. You'd given him a space to talk freely about his own feelings, too: the things that made him happy, or the things that were worrying him in real life...

Most people didn't know about his 'other' life in his dreams. The one where the two of you would go on walks in a city, sometimes holding hands. He'd slowly begun to fall for you over time, realizing that the care you showed him was sweet. The two of you had been strangers years ago, and now he understood maybe that was why the two of you were soulmates.

When he tried to kiss you around eighteen, you stopped him.

"I wanna kiss you for real," you said to him, holding his hands. "I know it's unfair to ask you to wait for me, but--"

"I will." He hadn't hesitated. Although he had kissed a girl once before (he was fifteen, and he realized after he did it that he'd much rather be kissing the person in his dreams) and told you so, he'd held off on dating. He wanted to experience things with you.

You'd squeezed his hands. "You don't have to."

Were you rejecting him...? What if he started dating someone and he loved them more than he already loved you? Part of him felt like he knew he would leave that person if he met you face-to-face, and yet... That meant he would hurt someone else. He'd heard stories about soulmates who left partners to be with one another, and while they were happy, the people left behind grew to resent them. Could he really do that to another person?

"You don't want me to?" He'd pulled his hands from yours, feeling the tiny sting in his chest.

You shook your head. "No, I--I just don't want you to wait around for me forever. What if we never meet?"

But what if we do? Jeonghan felt his heart sink in his chest. "We will," he said. Jeonghan never considered himself a hopeless romantic, but he had the naivete of a eighteen-year-old on his side. "I'll find you. I promise."

Before you could say something, you had begun to fade again. You were waking up. "Jeonghan--"

And then you were gone.

The first person Jeonghan had told about you was one of his college roommates, Joshua. He'd been listening to the way he'd been venting about how he felt he was annoying his soulmate whenever he sang, and waited until Seungcheol left for class to finally admit it out loud. He'd tell Seungcheol, too, soon: he just... needed to do it at his own pace. Both of his roommates seemed like good people who wouldn't judge him, but he'd already decided. Joshua first, and then Seungcheol. Deciding on that had made it easier, especially since Seungcheol was the busier of the two.

"My soulmate and I share dreams," he had said, pushing around the noodles in his ramyeon cup.

Joshua looked up. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "We talk whenever we can. It's hard. They're not from here. Depending on when I take a nap, I can either talk to them for a while or just ten minutes..."

"It sounds hard," Joshua nodded along. He'd sat backwards in his chair, leaning against the back of it with his chest, arms folded over the top. "So what are you doing to find them?"

Jeonghan said nothing.

"... Aren't you going to look for them?"

Jeonghan's gaze flickered up from his food. "I don't know. I don't know if they actually want to be found."

"That's--"

"We talked about it last time we met, a little over a year ago." He pushed around noodles more, never actually eating. "I'm in love with them. I don't know how they feel, although they said they'd rather kiss me for real when we meet. Then they said not to wait for them."

"It sounds like they're in love with you, too," he said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "Then why tell me not to wait?"

"Well... They're not from here." Joshua rested his chin on his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to feel like you can't date or anything."

"Don't you think I've tried it before?" Jeonghan looked up. "After they said that, I tried to move on, and I spent the entire time comparing her to my soulmate. She's not them."

Joshua frowned. "Dude... If you spend the entire time comparing, them, you're not going to be happy--"

"I know that." Jeonghan let out a sigh. "I just... I tried being with other people. She wasn't the only girl I tried to date--or see at all." They're just my soulmate, and I realized how much I love them every time I try to be with someone else. But would Joshua understand that...? Or would he just sound over-dramatic for someone he'd never met in person?

"I... see." Joshua looked off. "I guess it's different when you know your soulmate."

Jeonghan softened a little when he saw the guilt on Joshua's face. "It's fine," he said. "I just... I wish I could go to them. I don't know where they are, exactly, and it's not like I can go find them."

Can't you? He pushed away the thought. The world was big. .He couldn't just go out and find you--at least, not without looking like a creep. As much as he wished he could just let go of that desire deep within him to be with you, even temporarily, he just couldn't. Not when he'd gotten to know you so deeply. He felt as though a part of him would always be with you now, and that he carried you with him wherever he went.

Joshua understood, though. He listened, and he gave Jeonghan his thoughts whenever he asked for him. Seungcheol would eventually do the same, once Jeonghan told him about his soulmate. Seungcheol hadn't shown any offense to not being told (it was Jeonghan's business, after all). And in the moments in-between, Jeonghan was with you in some way--either thoughts preoccupied with you or in the fleeting moments of sharing a dream space.

"I kissed someone," you confessed at one point. Jeonghan had been sitting underneath a tree with you, fashioning a flower crown out of the little yellow blossoms that littered the ground around him. You craned your neck to look at him, "Are you mad...?"

He shook his head. "Do you like this?"

At first, you didn't move, and he felt his heart falter. "I dunno," you confessed a moment later. "I feel like... Every person I meet, I keep comparing them to you. Like... Hannie would laugh at this joke. Or Hannie would think this. It's like... I can't get you out of my head."

His heart skipped a beat this time as he stared at you, his face growing redder by the second. "... Really?"

"I... I dunno. It's just--I don't want you to think I'm some sort of loser when we meet."

When. Not if. "So you want to find me?"

He saw the way you grew more flustered, eyes landing anywhere but him as you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting. "Yes. Are you mad?" You finally met his gaze. "I mean... I think I hurt you before. When I told you not to wait for me? And we never talked about it, so..."

Jeonghan set the flower crown into his lap, reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm not mad," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"So you were mad."

He nodded a little after a moment. "At first..." He drew his hand back, shifting over so that he could sit closer to you. "At first I was hurt," he said, "because I thought you didn't want to find me. And... And I really wanted to kiss you, so I thought you were rejecting me, and.. I talked to my friends about it and they told me that it was alright to feel hurt, but that I was making assumptions about how you felt. So..." He dropped his hand down, pressing his palms into the grass. "How do you feel?"

"I've always wanted to meet you," you said outright. "But... I was talking to a few friends, and they kept asking questions about where you lived, and whether we'd get the chance to meet. It felt kinda mean," you moved closer, pressing your back against the tree, so that you could sit next to Jeonghan. "Like... They don't get a guarantee that they'll meet their soulmates. What makes us different?"

"Well, we know each other," he said, hand slipping into your own. "It's easier to accept things if you don't know your soulmate."

"I guess," you nodded along. "But... I dunno, it just made me anxious that we'd never be able to find each other."

"We will," Jeonghan said softly. "We'll make it work. I want to try."

Your hand curled around his, squeezing it tighter. "I want to try, too," you said, firm in what you were committing to. "Hannie?" You paused for a moment, "Jeonghan...? I want to be with you. I know we've never met in person, but can we...?"

He nodded. "Yes," he breathed out, reaching his other hand up to turn your face toward him. "May I...?"

You closed the distance between the two of you. It left him wondering if your lips would be this soft in reality. The last thing he heard was the sound of you saying his name, about to say something else when he found himself back in his couch, heart racing in his chest. He had jolted forward, fully awake out of nowhere, enough that it alerted Joshua and Seungcheol. The two were sitting at their little dinner table when they turned to see Jeonghan.

"... Bad dream?" Joshua called out.

Jeonghan just bolted to his bedroom, shutting himself in as he processed what all just happened. You kissed him. You wanted to be more. You wanted to find him.

And, fuck, he was going to do anything to find you now.

Most people gave Jeonghan weird looks when he explained his relationship to them. Yes, he hadn't met you in real life yet. No, it didn't really do anything to the relationship--it limited your dates, sure, but you had fun manipulating the dreamscape together to go wherever you wanted to go. Amusement parks with no waits for the rides, or this little cafe in your hometown, or a lovely park at night that Jeonghan walked through alone and wished you were there with him in reality. There were plenty of downsides, sure--neither of you could taste the food that you were eating, or feel the wind on your face--but you made it work and resolved to live these out once you found your way to each other. Sometimes people tried to challenge him: how could he have a relationship entirely with someone in his dreams? Didn't he miss the physical contact?

Which... The answer was a resounded 'yes,' but also it was none of their business. The two of you made it work, end of story. He'd eventually had a friend circle that accepted his relationship with his soulmate, although he'd become insistent that (when Seungkwan met his soulmate) his experience didn't count. That the two of you had agreed that your 'day one' of your relationship would be the day that you met face to face, just to make it easier to pin down a date. Everyone else had a date they could use as an anniversary, and you... Well, you and Jeonghan were different.

Although things had changed years later. All he knew at first was that he went to sleep one night, and you were there.

"... Jeonghan?"

And he'd stared at you, your name slipping from his mouth as he rushed over to you. "Are you sick again?" He frowned. "Honey, I wish I could be there to--"

"No, I... I moved. Remember?"

Right. You... You told him that you were moving for a job opportunity. It'd saddened him a little in the moment because both of you knew it'd make meeting harder, and yet all of that seemed to fade away in an instant.

"So you're...?" He didn't want to speak it aloud. What if it weren't true? What if...?

You nodded slowly. "I think... I'm closer," you said. "I'm in--"

The next few words seemed to dissolve into nothing, like his brain refused to register them. Jeonghan took your face into his hands, tears wetting his cheeks as he shook his head. Why can't it just work? Why can't their connection just let them have this now? You were closer to him. That should mean that the two of you can freely talk, and yet all he could hear was muffled words that he couldn't make out at all.

"We can't," he said, "we'll just... We'll have to find a way without saying names."

It broke his heart every time he saw you cry, and this time was worse. You nodded, though, hands coming up to hold his. "We'll find a way," you said. "Saturdays. I'll... I'll wait for you somewhere." Another name became muffled when you spoke it aloud, and you loudly swore as you broke away from him. "Coffee," you said, turning to him. "I'll... I'll always go to the same place near--" Again, your voice cut out. "Fuck--Just start looking, and--and we'll figure it out if it doesn't work."

"You'll stay there?" He watched you carefully. "All day?"

An eager nod, motivated by how close the two of you were now. "All day. Every Saturday until I find you."

And so it began.

Jeonghan... truly underestimated how many coffee places existed in this fucking city. But he went out every Saturday morning and spent hours upon hours searching for you. For months, that search came up empty. Joshua had offered to help, but Jeonghan turned both he and Seungcheol (and everyone, for that matter) down. He needed to find you himself. Maybe it was hubris, or maybe it was because he wanted to be the first one to meet you... He wasn't exactly sure anymore. A mix of both, perhaps. You could meet his friends in time, but Jeonghan didn't want anyone else to see you in person before he did. He'd known you this long. He'd been with you this long. He needed to be the first one to see you.

Three months ago, Chan met his soulmate. How much longer would it take for Jeonghan to find you? He approached the last place on his list for today, night having already fallen upon him. Maybe he'd change places with you, and have you running around looking for him. He'd try to pick somewhere more niche, though, just to make it easier on you. Jeonghan tucked his hands into his jacket pocket, staring down at his phone as he followed the directions to this place. It was a little out of the way, but maybe if he made it in time, he'd be able to swing by the bigger place not far from there. It closed earlier, sure, but it usually had way more foot traffic from what he could tell.

The thought that had been haunting him hit him again: would you even like him when you saw him in person? It'd been something stupid that popped into his head one Saturday a month ago, but it still shook him a little more than he expected. He'd seen you in so, so many dreams; he'd been with you, dating you, and yet it felt like there was a degree of separation. Those were his dreams with you, this was the real world where other people would get in the way. Where he couldn't just go to that cafe in your hometown with you, giggling about a silly joke one of you cracked, without having to travel to get there. He'd confessed his fears to Joshua once day, and Joshua had just stared at him.

"But you're in love with them."

"I know, but what if they don't love me once they see me?" Jeonghan had been curled up on Joshua's couch that night, a blanket draped around him. He toyed with the edge of it, fingers curling around the plush material. "It's different, I think."

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god. You're so stupid."

"Hey--"

"Jeonghan." Joshua turned, entirely serious as he leaned in, "They love you, dumbass. I know your dreams are magical or whatever, but they still like being with you. You told me they trust you enough to cry on you and tell you about how bad work was, or about friend troubles, or enough to just say they need to cry because of stress. If things change when they see you, they weren't really in love with you. Dreams are whatever--you're still you."

Jeonghan had said nothing at first, letting the words sink in. Then when he looked up, he saw Joshua looking off into the distance, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "They're singing, aren't they?"

Joshua cracked a smile. Jeonghan knew him well enough. "It's quiet," he said, "but... Yeah. They are."

Jeonghan knew that while Joshua was the one who sang more often in his relationship, he truly loved whenever his soulmate would sing. He knew that Joshua had told them that, and they chose to indulge him in it a little more often. Jeonghan should take a video or a picture of this and send it to them: you broke your soulmate, btw, come get him. Then again... Joshua definitely had ammunition of his own. Videos of times where Jeonghan had woken up in a pleasant mood because he'd gone on a date with you yet again, always ending with Joshua telling the camera that he was ready for the two of you to meet already.

At the end of the street on the left. Jeonghan had begun to hurry at this point, already feeling his heart sinking in his chest. No. No, no, no, fuck--The lights were out, and no one was inside despite the website saying that this place stayed open for another two hours. There had been a piece of paper taped up on a window that said something about one of the coffee machines breaking down and causing a big enough mess that they'd have to close for the night. Shit. What if this had been the one? What if you were inside when the coffee machine broke, spraying hot coffee everywhere? What if you had been burned? Jeonghan wanted to kick himself for not getting here sooner, but he looked at the other shop that closed in less than ten minutes. Fuck. Next Saturday for sure. Maybe that would be the one.

He did what he always did. He called Joshua, and told him that, yet again, he had failed to find you.

"Aw. I'm sorry, dude," Joshua had said. "Are you sure you don't want us to help out?"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol had spoken up, "We will! Just tell us where to go, and we'll find them. There's too many places for you to do it on your own. Stop being stubborn about this."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, glad that he had friends who cared so deeply about him. "No, it's fine. We'll find each other soon. I can feel it. We'll talk about it tonight and see if they can give me any details."

Of course, you hadn't before. Whatever was keeping the two of you from finding each other made sure of that. But they didn't need to know how many failed attempts Jeonghan had made at this point.

"Are you sure?" Seungcheol sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to do this alone. We're all here for you. If you say the word to Seungkwan--"

Another warm chuckle. "He'll storm every shop himself," Jeonghan said. "That's why I haven't told anyone else yet. You know Mingyu would go out searching without telling any of us."

"You sound exhausted," Joshua spoke up after a moment. "Want one of us to pick you up?"

"I'll just take the bus. I think I'll plan my next move during the ride." Jeonghan tucked his other hand back into his pocket. He needed the time to lick his wounds and pick himself back up, too. "Maybe... I'll figure out a new plan."

"Just call me if you change your mind," Seungcheol said. "Get home safely."

"I will," Jeonghan said, and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and let out a sigh.

Okay. Another failed Saturday. Jeonghan wouldn't lose hope, though: he'd find you soon enough. It wouldn't be as soon as he planned, but he would find you, and he would kiss you, and he'd never let anything tear the two of you apart like this ever again. Even with work trips and vacations and whatnot, Jeonghan would be happy to see your face again outside of his dreams.

The bus had slowed to a stop, and Jeonghan climbed on before taking a seat near the back. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by once the bus had lurched forward again. If the two of you could pick something less common, maybe you'd find one another sooner. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by as his eyelids began to droop. Next Saturday. He hugged himself tighter. Next Saturday would be the day. He had to find you then. Or maybe it was time to let his friends help him find you. What was the point of being stubborn about it all when he was taking away days he could be falling in love with you all over again?

"Hello...?"

He must have dozed off on the bus again, the sound of your voice making him open his eyes.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when's your stop?"

You must have been teasing him again. "Wherever you want it to be," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as they always do. It was always easy to say such things to you. He looked up, and pauses, mind fuzzy for a moment. "Sorry, I thought you were my..."

And then it's clear. There you stood in front of him, one hand gripping the seat next to him and the other on the one in front of it. Your eyes widened as realization hit you, and Jeonghan was already rising out of his seat. The bus driver yelled something back at the two of you, but Jeonghan wasn't listening. And it seemed like you weren't, either.

"Good morning, Hannie," you teased lightly, already smiling at him.

Jeonghan only leaned in, thrilled that you closed the distance between the two of you. He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours as he tasted something sweet on your lips. Tea, he thought, or maybe some sort of dessert involving matcha or something. Your body was warm underneath his touch and so much more real than he'd ever dreamed of. But what about you? Did he live up to your dreams?

"I love you," he said softly when he drew back. Emotions surged in his chest: relief, joy, love. The freedom of no longer having to search for you crashed over him in waves, and he felt himself tear up. He roughly wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling as he tried to hold back now. This wasn't how he wanted either of you to remember your first meeting, with him about to sob.

Yet all it took was seeing you cry for him to break, pulling you into his arms as he held you tight. The bus driver yelled back again, and he just reached back frantically, pressing the button to signal for the two of you to get off as soon as you could. And he left with you, hand in hand, as the two of you stepped out underneath the stars, already falling in love with one another all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[daistea]

Hello dais! I’ve been binge reading all of your content recently and first of all I have to say I’m obsessed with all of your writing, it has changed how I look at character from Dungeon Meshi entirely. and second of all, I’ve been thinking about Mithrun with a tall-man reader, or just any short-lived race really and how he would react after they had passed away? I don’t know how you feel about angst really but I’m a sucker for pain and can’t stop thinking about this. Sorry if this seems messy, I’m just thinking too many thoughts about Mithrun right now.

Thank you so much friend!!! Sorry for the late response! This was a good prompt, something close to my heart.

Mithrun x gn, short-lived Reader

tw death, loss, angst

»»-------¤-------««

Mithrun would not do well. 

When he loves, he loves deeply. He wasn’t always so loyal, but after the demon and after working so hard to cultivate desires, Mithrun would attach himself to those he cares about. He isn’t clingy in a traditional sense, but he’s intense. To you, even more so. 

He’d always known it would happen; you started moving slower. You started aging. He didn’t care how you looked. He was aging as well, though at a different rate. Mithrun had never cared for the sentiment of ‘growing old’ with someone. He didn’t understand it, mainly because he truly believed he’d die once the demon was gone. 

Yet, there he was, in his mid-200s. He had you. He couldn’t let you go. When you slowed down, complained of joint pain and laughed at your gray hairs, he’d always brush you off. There was time. There was always time. 

 Awareness did not equal acceptance. Simply because something was a fact of life did not mean it deserved to exist in peace. Most facts of life had negative contexts, but people spoke of them as if they expected Mithrun to be content, to lower his fists, to stop fighting. 

 He knew the day would come. No amount of preparation made it easier. 

 “You’re 252 years old, Captain,” Lycion murmured. 

 Mithrun wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything. He glanced up at the ex-Canary, though the look in Lycion’s eyes immediately made his blood run hot. He forced himself to look away simply to keep from breaking something. 

 “And?”

 “You still have around half your life left,” Lycion continued with that tone that had become all too familiar— insistent, worried, pitying. He should’ve known better than to use it on Mithrun. 

 “And?” “And you still have time to move on.”

 Unacceptable. There was anger, of course, there was always anger swirling within him. But lately, Mithrun had become more sensitive to dread. His stomach churned and sickness crawled up his throat. Move on? As if that was an option. 

The sight of your body haunts him. 

Your skin was cold. Everything was wrong. He couldn’t stop feeling, so much more than he’d felt in ages. All he wanted was for it to stop. When he closed his eyes, he saw you. When he tried to sleep, he heard you. He recalled the lilt of your voice and it refused to leave his brain. Despite how desperately he craved peace, he didn’t want to forget you. He held onto the memories for as long as his imperfect brain would allow. 

Mithrun doesn’t leave his house. 

He only eats because he knows you’d be mad at him if he didn’t. 

He changes nothing about the decor. If you left a sweater on the floor before you died, it will stay there for years. 

Things start changing. If you caught bugs and released them, he’d start doing that as well, despite how he just squished them in the past. If you seasoned food a certain way, he’d do it too, no matter how salty or spicy it is. 

Truly, Mithrun hangs onto every tiny detail of you. He’s never been a detail oriented person, but he knows you. Perhaps now, he knows you better than ever. 

At first, he’ll be doing a chore and, without a second thought, call out for you. He needs your opinion on how to separate this laundry. There’s a sale on veggies he knows you’d be interested in. But right as he says your name, he realizes the truth. You’re not there. He won’t hear your footsteps cross the house, or see your smile as you ask him to repeat himself, or see you roll your eyes at the dumb laundry question. 

It’s a huge change. Mithrun can’t sleep for a bit. His body eventually forces him to sleep. 

He’s lost people before. He’s lost friends, people who helped build Melini. It’s different with you. He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. 

Mithrun returns to what he did when first regaining his desires— he busies himself with hobbies and work. His universe is falling apart, but he’s getting very good at making noodles. (He’d like you to try them.)

 “I’m not moving on,” Mithrun says. 

 “They were just a—”

 “And you’re just an idiot,” he retorts. 

 Cithis’s jaw sets, tense. She looks at the wall over Mithrun’s shoulder instead, as if looking him in the eye was too tempting, as if she was ready to strangle him. “You know what I mean.”

 He didn’t. He didn’t know much of anything these days. 

 “You’re not usually this concerned,” Mithrun mused as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Bored of your own problems?”

 It was cruel, he had enough wherewithal to know that. Cithis may have lacked general empathy, though she cared about her friends to a certain extent. If only she was better at comfort. If only Mithrun wanted comfort. 

 Her gaze finally shifted to land on him, “You’ll have to start living again at some point.”

It takes Mithrun around 50 years to realize that life continues. Your death felt like the end of a world— in a way, it was the end of a world. He can’t forget you. He won’t ever stop grieving. He’s so angry sometimes because you dared to leave him, even though it wasn’t your fault. 

Yet, Mithrun is an expert at restarting. 

 “I know,” Marcille murmured. Her voice was thick with emotions Mithrun didn’t bother to identify. He simply glanced at her, his good eye wide. 

 “What?” He asked. 

 “I know how it is,” she explained. She had her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels in an almost childish manner, despite her age. He supposed that for her, the early 100’s was still shockingly young. He’d never understand how a half-elf’s mindset worked. But he knew she’d lost someone. Everyone. 

 “You couldn’t possibly,” Mithrun told her despite how much of a blatant lie his words were. 

 Marcille rolled her eyes. She looked nearly done with him, and he wouldn’t blame her for that. Still, she managed to send him a half-glare, “It gets slightly easier. You’ll still do stuff and think ‘wow, I wish they were here to see this.’ You’ll still crave their company and attention and touch. You’ll still dream of them.”

 He knew that. “What part of this is supposed to be comforting?”

 Marcille scoffed, “I’m not trying to be comforting. I’m just telling you the truth, as someone who's gone through it too. They’re still there, with you. But life gets easier.”

 What a simple phrase. It wasn’t as if everyone in Melini hadn’t already told him that a hundred times over. 

 Mithrun looked away. Marcille grumbled to herself about useless attempts and arrogant Canaries.

 Perhaps he was arrogant. Perhaps he was angry. Perhaps he wanted to sink his fingers into the fabric of the universe and tear it to shreds for daring to take you. 

 But there was no time for that. He had laundry to do.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood; injury; vomiting.

A/N: Another whumpful chapter. My little whumpy heart is happy. But some feely feel good moments too. And then some not so feely feel good. I don’t hate Andrea, I promise.

You couldn’t begin to guess what time it was. Between caring for Daryl and vomiting every drop of water you’d tried to intake, you barely knew where you were anymore. You tossed a few sticks into the fire to keep it burning low before lowering unsteadily to your knees beside the archer. 

Daryl hadn’t regained consciousness since his one-sided conversation earlier in the night. He was restless, quietly groaning; head turning back and forth with a pained grimace etched onto his features. His breaths came in shallow pants while his pulse palpitated wildly. His skin was still cool. You found yourself petting his hair and shushing him gently. Somehow, that felt okay. 

You ran a hand through your hair and exhaled shakily. How were you supposed to get both of you back safely the next morning when you were rapidly weakening and Daryl could hardly stand? What if you couldn’t even get him to rouse? Slapping your palms against the gravel, you forced yourself to your feet and began pacing. 

You were yearning for your father’s advice; missing him to a debilitating degree. For all the mistakes he’d humbly own up to, the man had never steered you wrong. He was never harsh, always finding a way to ensure you were laughing through your tears. 

“Perk up, peanut. Nothing’s that bad! When life gives you lemons—”

“I hate lemonade, daddy.”

“Forget lemonade! Why are you taking food from a stranger?”

“You’re so corny.”

“But you’re laughing. Mission accomplished.”

You wiped away a tear and smiled. You had been so lucky to have a father like him: patient, kind, funny, stern when he needed to be but never cruel. You stilled your steps and turned your gaze toward Daryl. On the surface, the hunter seemed to be the opposite of everything your father had been. But you had been granted the smallest glimpse through a crack in the archer’s self-preserving armor. 

When you were so incredibly sick in the woods, every touch had been gentle. Every syllable had been soft. Daryl was capable of tenderness and—while he may never be like your father—you easily believed the archer would be a wonderful dad in his own Daryl way. 

You sat down with your back against the tree, watching Daryl sleep. Fierce determination settled against your heart, smothering out the panic that always hid away there. You would get you both out. If you had to drag Daryl up the rocky slope tied to your back, you would persevere. You were all three going to survive this. 

You stayed in that spot, absorbing all the courage and strength the universe was offering. It wasn’t a supernatural event, but a personal battle against the weakness you had been allowing yourself to wallow in since the attack on your camp. Daryl was something in your life. More than the father of your baby. A friend? It didn’t matter. You needed him to be okay. 

As the sun began to rise and the fire burned out, you knew it was time to start the literal uphill battle toward getting back to camp. Taking a deep breath, you held it for a heartbeat as you looked at Daryl. The man was anything but weak but he was so pale, pain written plainly on his face. Exhaling, you crawled the short distance to where he lay, unsure how to approach this. 

“Daryl.” A gentle shake to his shoulder. Another whisper of his name with another simultaneous joggle. His eyes clenched, brows drawing together. He was in pain. It was obvious. Still, you had no choice but to insist. “Come on, Daryl. Open your eyes.” 

He did. “Wha’?” The archer immediately tried to sit up, but the wound’s sting held him in place. “Fuck.” You absently brushed your fingertips across his jaw. 

“Do you remember what happened?” You asked sincerely, helping him into a sitting position. It was a slow, painful endeavor but a success nonetheless. With an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, he pinned you down with a look just shy of a glare. 

“Thought I remembered ‘til I saw ya here.” He adjusted how he was sitting with only the slightest hint of discomfort. “But then I knew it couldn’t be real cause ya ain’t dumb enough to come out here alone.” Once he settled, Daryl arched an eyebrow at you. 

“Color me an idiot, then.” You shrugged with a feigned smile. He was clearly unimpressed. 

“Ya gotta stop thinkin’ s’just you anymore.” Your eyes followed his right hand as it moved from his midsection toward yours but pulled back quickly without touching. “I ain’t worth riskin’ our kid.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the first time he had acknowledged the baby as both his and yours. You decided that pointing it out was not in either of your best interests. 

“You’re important too, you know.” You argued instead. A retort was on the tip of his tongue, his mouth opening but you gave him no time to argue. “Here, you need to eat.” You grabbed his left wrist and plopped the apple onto his palm. “You really need more than that. I could reheat the beans from last night?”

“Don’t need to do all that. Just give ‘em here.” The spoon you had used was still in the can when you passed it to him. You sipped water from the canteen as he ate, watching him scrutinize every inch of the area you’d soon be climbing. Using the spoon, he pointed. “That your rope?”

“Well, technically it belongs to a moron that fell into a ravine on top of his own bolt.” Your grin met his deadpan expression. “I swiped it from your tent. Had to cut it to stop you from becoming walker chow though. Sorry.” 

He simply shrugged. “Ya ain’t eatin’?” 

Shit. You were truly hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I ate.” Not a lie. Technically. 

“If you have to say ‘technically’, you’re already in trouble.”

Your father’s voice echoed in your head. Goddamnit. “I can’t eat anything right now. Given all the shit we’re about to do, I shouldn’t have drank anything either.”

“They couldn’t find the meds?” He looked stricken and you found that caused an ache in your chest that you didn’t care to ever feel again. 

“I don’t know. I left before they got back.”

His face morphed into an annoyed scowl. “You’re an idiot.” He grumbled. He continued to eat, though he seemed more hesitant with every bite. Did he feel bad eating in front of you? “So let me wrap my head ‘round this.” That calm tone that was about to build up into his pissed off rampaging. “I can hardly move an’ you’re gonna be upchuckin’ ev’ry ten seconds, but we’re s’posed to climb outta here?”

“More or less.” You shrugged. 

“What could go wrong?” He grimaced at the empty can before tossing it aside. He stared at the canteen you held out to him but eventually took it. 

“I’ve got another, so drink up.” 

Daryl hummed and then drained every drop from the container. 

You stuffed it in your bag and slipped your arms through the straps. “We gotta go. Let’s get you up.” You stood only to crouch behind him, snaking your arms under his to lock your hands on his chest while carefully avoiding the wound. His muscles tensed at the contact. “This is gonna suck but on three?” He mumbled ‘fine’ under his breath and planted his hands on the ground to help push himself. “One, two, three!”

There was a cut off shout on the journey upright. He staggered backward but you planted your feet firmly to stabilize him. He was panting and swaying, both arms wrapped around himself tightly but he was taking most of his weight. 

“You good?” You asked, sliding your hands to hold just above hips, silently giving the bandages a once over for any fresh blood. 

“M’fine.” He managed to breathe. He didn’t sound fine but you’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Very slowly, you pulled your hands away, ensuring he could remain standing. 

Next order of business was strapping his crossbow onto your back. It took some time and maneuvering but you finally managed. 

“I can take that. Ya don’t need to be carryin’ all that shit.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Walk over here and you can have it.” Your eyes held a challenge, and you were certain he would rise to the bait, even knowing it wouldn’t end the way he wanted. He managed one step before he staggered. “That’s what I thought.” Confident he wouldn’t try again, you pulled and shifted the weapon’s strap while you studied the hill you two were about to tackle. “Jesus, this thing isn’t nice to sore tits.”

“Why your tits sore?”

You found him looking adorably confused. “It’s a pregnancy thing.” His eyebrows raised, his mouth forming a silent ‘o’. “Welp, let’s get started.” Daryl didn’t argue this time when you ducked under his arm. He needed as much strength as he could save for climbing. “Think you can make it to where the rope ends?”

The hunter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.” He didn’t look any more confident than he sounded. 

“Okay, I’m gonna stay behind you until we get there. Then I’ll go first.” He nodded without argument. He must have felt awful if he wasn’t even trying to suggest something else. He grunted with the first uphill step, right arm encircling his middle while he breathed through the pain. “You okay?”

“Ain’t really got a choice.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You couldn’t leave him to fetch help and couldn’t drag him up the hillside. He managed another step, your hand reaching out to lie against the small of his back as you followed. Hopefully, you’d be able to stop him from falling. 

Halfway to the end of the rope, you barely received any warning before you pitched to the side and vomited all the water you had drank. 

“Oops.” You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, catching Daryl’s gaze from over his shoulder. “I spilled it.” He rolled his eyes and continued upward while you smirked at his back. Things sucked. Making light of it all wasn’t going to change that. 

After another block of several minutes, Daryl could almost reach out and touch the rope. He gripped a sturdy branch and pulled himself up further, falling short and curling inward with a sound dangerously close to a sob. 

“Daryl?” You grabbed the nearest rock and hauled yourself up beside him. “Are you okay?” He wasn’t. That much was clear from the way he visibly trembled and the tension you could see in his jaw. “Let’s rest here for a minute.”

“M’fine. Keep goin’.” 

“Daryl—”

“Said m’fine!” He snapped, beginning the ascent once again. You glowered at his back for a moment more before deciding it was pointless to argue. Once you made it to the rope, you’d take the lead and control the pace. You’d damn well make him slow down. “What now?” He panted, holding tightly to an unearthed root to keep himself from tumbling. You didn’t answer, but began to tie the rope around his midsection. “What the—ya need this more than me.”

“Shut up.” You finished the knot and reached above to give the rope a firm tug. Without a word, you climbed your way above him and grabbed onto the rope. You were certain you could make it just holding on and climbing. Your stomach was trying to revolt once again but at least you’d have the security of not falling as long as you held on tight. Hopefully, you wouldn’t accidentally puke on his head. 

With concern clearly on your face, you continued to look back. Daryl was taking significantly longer, breaths coming fast and jaw clenched. He was clearly struggling to keep quiet so you wouldn’t stop. Idiot. 

“You doing okay back there?”

“Just go.” He snapped, hissing through his teeth immediately after. If you could make it fast enough, maybe you could pull the rope to give him some support. The thought had no sooner crossed your mind before you bent forward and dry heaved, hardly able to maintain your grip. “Hey. Ya alright?”

You nodded, keeping still for a moment. The world was spinning. You couldn’t risk climbing. Your baby was more important than attempting to race your way to the ledge. If you fell—

A cool hand came to rest on the middle of your back, the vibrations of the tremors his body was suffering were felt clearly through your shirt. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He was worried for you and for the baby. It was a new but not unwelcome feeling to realize you weren’t unimportant to him. He didn’t see you as an incubator. Being friends that happened to share a child wasn’t such a terrible feeling. 

“I’m okay.” You pulled air in through your nose and pushed it out through your mouth. The breathing helped alleviate the nausea and any panic that may have accompanied it. “Let’s keep going. We need to get you back.”

“Need to get you back too.” He argued while removing his hand. He started to climb again before you were ready to move. There was no way you were letting him above you. If he fell, he’d take you with him and you wouldn’t have the rope to slow your descent. You scrambled quickly and carelessly, making it up to at least be beside him. And just in time. 

The rock Daryl placed his left foot on came loose from the soil. He let out a curse as he began to fall but you were quick, twisting at the waist to grab hold of his wrist. The sudden movements irritated his wound, your heart clenching when he cried out and pressed his forehead against the ground. 

“C’mon. Ya done half. Stop bein’ such a pussy.” He muttered to himself. 

You almost let the laughter that bubbled up force its way from your mouth. Almost. It was only slightly difficult not to tease him when he was in such a shape. You kept a keen eye on him as he repositioned and found a solid foothold. When he looked up at you and nodded, you noticed how badly he was sweating and he was growing even more pale. Reluctantly, you released your hold but kept your hand outstretched just in case. 

“You good?” 

There was a look that crossed his face, like he was about to say something snarky, but it faded just as quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, m’good.” Upon turning back to your own climb, you smiled to yourself. 

It was unsurprising that you reached the top first, keeping the rope in hand as you climbed the last several feet to the ledge. Once you had hauled yourself up, you shed your bag and his crossbow before you sat close to the tree and pulled up all the slack. If he were to fall now you’d need to brace your legs against the trunk to be able to hold him without being dragged off yourself. Little by little you pulled as he got closer. From where you were positioned, you couldn’t see him so the rope was the only clue you had as to where he might be. 

“Daryl, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer but was still moving, albeit slower. Until he appeared to stop. Shit. Taking a risk, you let go and crawled to the edge. The archer was just below the tree root. His arms were trembling, his forehead was pressed against the dirt, and worst of all, there was fresh blood spreading across the back of his shirt. 

“Daryl. Daryl, answer me.”

“Just—just need—a minute.” He slurred. Your worry compounded, a sick feeling in your gut that had nothing to do with that hullabaloo word that Hershel had given you. That god awful feeling was constricting your chest, making it hard to form any sort of coherent thought, let alone a plan. Eyes on the archer, you could see his fingers loosening around the limb and rock that were keeping him there. 

“Daryl!” You barked loudly. It had the intended effect. His body visibly jerked and he lifted his head, dazed eyes searching until they found you. You had to make a choice: try to pull him up or go down to get him. Your hands pushed you up and allowed you to spin with your legs over the edge. Leaning forward the slightest bit, you started down as you had the day before, sliding your ass against the ground. 

“Y/N!” Daryl’s voice, though angry, held very little ardor. He was barely hanging on, literally and figuratively. “Don’t—don’t ya dare come—down here.”

“Try and stop me.” You knew it was a risk. Frankly, you were fed up with risking your baby but you told Daryl he was important, too. “You can yell at me later.” Your gaze continued to flit between your path and the hunter. He had rested the side of his face against the ground again and was trying to watch you through eyes that were fighting like hell to close. 

Seconds later, his hand started to fall away from the rock, just for yours to push it back down. His grip instantly tightened. Your other hand moved to grasp his chin.

“Daryl.” His gaze was unfocused but he was still holding himself there. “Daryl, I need you to climb. I’ll help you but I need you to try.” When you had to shake his head a little, you felt a tickle on your cheek just as your lip quivered. “Please.” He remained still, leaving you envisioning him letting go. If he fell, it might not kill him but you would never be able to get him back to this point. You were running out of ideas. Adjusting yourself to reach across him and hold his left hand around the limb, you grabbed the right and pressed his palm against your stomach. “If not for you or me, try for them!”

There was nothing for a moment more, long enough for you to lose hope. You let your head fall forward against the back of his shoulder and cried in earnest, knowing you’d have to climb up eventually. 

His fingers twitched against your belly. He started to move, slowly. Very slowly. Hell, sloths moved faster. You reeled back, observing, ready to do whatever he needed. Right then, you just started whispering encouragement as he reached for something to continue pulling himself upward. 

“That’s it. Keep going. I’m right here.” You climbed beside him, careful of where you put your feet. You would reach out each time you moved up, just placing your palm on his back to assure him you were real and you were there. “Almost, Daryl.” The two of you had passed the root that held the rope when the trembling worsened but he didn’t stop. His teeth were bared, clenching so tightly that you thought they might shatter. 

When he was close enough, you scrambled past him and to the edge. You couldn’t pull his full weight, but you knew he’d rather fall than pull you over. If he couldn’t fight his way up, he’d let go. It was a terrible fact. You reached for him—over his shoulders—grabbing under his arms to give him some support when he dug his fingers into the dirt to drag himself up the rest of the way. 

You both collapsed onto the flat ground beside the tree, panting and staring up at the canopy. You rolled your head and smiled at him, though he seemed to be only halfway present. Your smile was still in place when you looked back up at the cloudless blue sky. 

“Well, that was fun.” You chuckled.

Daryl groaned and weakly lifted the arm closest to you and placed his hand over your face. Somehow, that only made you laugh harder. 

The two of you were worse for wear by a mere hour into the journey back. You were in a violent cycle of drinking water only to vomit it up moments later while Daryl could barely stay on his feet, stumbling and catching himself against a tree if there happened to be one. If not, you’d stagger over and let him use your arm to lever his way back to his feet. 

Neither of you had said a word. You were dehydrated and in desperate need of sleep. Daryl was actively bleeding, growing paler by the moment. You forced him to drink when you did, paying as much attention as possible to the amount left. The next time you doubled over, you found him leaning heavily against a tree, watching you. 

“G’on ahead.” He made a weak gesture and began sliding down until his ass met the dirt. You began shedding your bag and his weapon while shuffling over to him, dropping them both within reach before you mimicked his descent and ended up shoulder to shoulder. 

“I didn’t go through all that shit just to leave you behind now.” The canteen was right on top when you opened the pack. You held it out to him while you grabbed the remaining apple. Daryl struggled with the lid while you took the smallest of bites, praying that what Lori had said about the fruit alleviating nausea was true. You traded after that, but the canteen never made it to your mouth nor did the apple make it to his. His head fell back against the tree and yours to his shoulder. 

“Shouldn’a come—out here in—the first place.” 

You’d never tell him no one else was willing, though he probably suspected it. “Told you. You’re important too.” You sighed and closed your eyes. You wouldn’t sleep. Both of your senses were dulled, which made the two of you a walker buffet if they approached undetected. 

Daryl snorted, though it sounded more like a stunted exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Right.”

You wanted to glare at him but you were comfortable. “Shut up. You are to me.”

“Why?”

“Besides the obvious?” You lifted your head and busied yourself checking his wound. “You just are. When you’re not being a hotheaded jackass, you’re actually pretty good company.” You looked up just in time to see him avert his eyes. He apparently still had enough blood in his body to color his cheeks. Your head found his shoulder again. “Not to mention, you’re a great lay.”

“Stop.”

Your smirk remained while you forced yourself to drink a few sips, hearing him bite into the apple. Aside from dehydrating and slowly bleeding to death, the moment was nice. You couldn’t help but think back to Carol informing you that Daryl didn't like to be touched. Yet here you were using him as a makeshift pillow. Maybe it was a pregnancy perk or maybe he really did consider you a friend. He was slowly making it obvious that he cared. You’d take what you could get as long as the two of you could manage to co-parent. 

When you shifted to put away the canteen and reached for the remainder of the apple, you found his head hanging with the fruit loosely held in his palm. Checking his breathing and pulse, both were not at dangerous levels but he needed help and soon. You took the apple and put it away. 

You would let him rest a while longer before you’d be forced to press on if you were going to make it back before sundown. He became your pillow for a third time while you kept watch and listened to his shallow panting, just content with the fact that he was still breathing. 

“We’re almost there.” You all but groaned, your hand clutching your rolling stomach while Daryl stumbled along beside you. He had taken his crossbow a while ago when you fell to your knees while vomiting. He was holding the strap and dragging it along behind him. 

He grunted in reply, pale face grimacing as if each step was more painful than the last. Probably is. You clutched Sophia’s doll against your hip. They would all probably be so busy fussing over the state the two of you returned in to listen if you told them to check your pack. 

When you walked out of the trees and into the field, the house and camp in view, you could have cried. Well, maybe you couldn’t have. It depended on how dehydrated you were at that point. 

You let your steps slow to stay close to Daryl in case the adrenaline that got him this far suddenly diminished with the relief of being so very close. There was a shout in the distance and you smiled as four of them began running toward you. 

We made it. 

You allowed your steps to slow and then stop as Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Glen closed in—with guns drawn?!

“Is that Daryl?” Glenn exclaimed. “Y/N?”

“S’the third time ya’ve pointed that thing at my head! Ya gonna pull the trigger or what?”

“Third time?” You asked, beyond confused. Before anyone could say anything else, a shot rang out and Daryl crumpled to the ground. Rick was yelling but you only had eyes for the archer. You stumbled over and fell beside him, holding your breath. When his eyes fluttered open and he reached toward a gash above his temple, you forced out a sob and laid your head against his shoulder. 

Hands encircled your midsection and gently pulled you back, T-Dog’s voice in your ear. “It’s okay. They’ve got him.”

“I’s kiddin’—” Daryl slurred as he was pulled to his feet between Rick and Shane. His weary gaze met yours before his eyes rolled back and he slumped. 

Rick must have seen the look on your face because he was already bringing two fingers to the archer’s neck. He nodded at you and your legs nearly gave out. You gave T-Dog a smile and patted his arm, getting your feet underneath you to follow along beside Rick. Glenn was hovering in your peripheral. Probably a good thing. As soon as Daryl was being seen to, you were sure to collapse yourself. 

“Oh my god! Oh my god, is he dead?”

You turned to find Andrea running toward the group of you, your tired eyes narrowing. She wasn’t a great shot, that much you knew. Surely it wasn’t—

“Unconscious.” Rick answered. “You just grazed him.”

“You?” You hissed, bringing everyone to a stop. “Who the hell is letting you shoot long range?!” 

Clearly offended, Andrea took a step toward you. “It was an accident. It didn’t kill him.” She vaguely gestured toward the man that you had risked your life—your baby—to bring back alive. 

“You bitch.” You sucked on your teeth, digging deep for some semblance of control. 

“Seriously? I went out of my way to be nice to you. I think we’re square here.”

You nodded. “Square. You think we’re square.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Rick lifted his arm away from Daryl’s hand on his shoulder in an attempt to usher you along. Spinning to your right, you snatched Rick’s gun from Glenn, switched off the safety, and had Andrea in your sights before anyone could blink. 

The blonde’s hands raised while voices escalated in panic. All the shocked expressions were meeting one another, clueless as to how to handle the situation. You fully expected to be taken down and locked up somewhere. 

But no one touched you. 

After a very intense moment, you flicked the safety on and held the gun back out to the kid. 

“Square would be grazing your pretty cheek or maybe a little bit of ear. Unlike you, I was raised with a gun. I rarely miss.” You sneered. “Then we’d be square.” Panting from the exertion, you staggered, your own adrenaline running on fumes. 

“What’re you gonna do with her?” Andrea demanded, pulling against Dale’s arm when Rick and Shane dragged Daryl past her. “She aimed a gun at me! What’re you gonna do?”

Lori wrapped an arm around your back, “She didn’t shoot you, Andrea. We can talk about this later. Come on, let’s get you inside.” You saw Maggie approaching, felt her take your other arm as the world tilted. Somewhere past the darkness that was looming you heard:

“Guys! Isn’t this Sophia’s?”

[knavesflames]

Hi! Remember this?

I decided to finally make a part two. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t a happy ending. I tried and tried but couldn’t find anything that would let them be happy. The quality of this is also not as good as the first one, I fear. Alas, it is here. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1147

Contents: bro just sadness

utc!

Arlecchino doesn’t come home for hours. The night ticks on and for the first hour, you just sit there in tears, your outfit not at all matching, though that seems to be the least of your problems. By the second hour, your eyes and throat burn, and you feel like it’s almost impossible to stop crying, and you wonder if you ever will. You drag yourself out of the bed, the bed you’ve made love on so many times, the bed she has laid you on as she coaxed our every single orgasm you’ve ever had. The tangled bedsheets and what’s remaining of her imprint from her body is a cruel, painful reminder. A reminder that you are not the one she’s been in love with this entire time, that you were just a replacement.

You wander the halls of your home, a gigantic, lavish home. Much larger than it needs to be, really, but Arlecchino always loved to show off her wealth. You don’t look towards the walls, you know that you’ll only see many, many photos of you and Arlecchino. Ones you that you hung there, and you remember the grin on your face when they were in place. You remember how your smile faded slightly when Arlecchino replied with a simple “that’s nice, dear.” You assumed she was only tired. Every single thing you remember but ignored comes crashing onto you, and all you can do is stare at the floor like some pathetic dog being scolded for doing something they shouldn’t have. You feel pathetic, or worthless, or angry. You can’t really tell which when they all blend together. You pad around the hallways aimlessly, a hollow, miserable look in your eyes.

You find yourself in the bathroom, and one look at yourself breaks the dam and your eyes fill with tears again. You can only see her, yet you look nothing like her. Therein lies the problem, you realise. Your hair is not red, nor do you have her white headband. You stare at yourself, muttering hateful words until yourself is not yourself. Your reflection is just a blur and you can’t tell what you look like. Your fist clenches, and you understand you have to leave the bathroom before the mirror shatters over the floor. Sombrely heading towards the living room, you’re met with pure rage at the sight of the lumidouce bells. A scoff is heard from you as you notice the picture of you three right next to them. Yet again, it went unnoticed, or perhaps, ignored. In a fit of impulsivity, the photo frame crashes to the floor with a guttural scream of “I hate you!” And of course, the vase topples to the floor too. You give no fucks as to the fact it’s four in the morning, or that the neighbours will probably complain. Let them complain, you think.

Arlecchino finally comes through the door at 9am. Your face is so swollen and puffy she wonders if you’re even the same person. You hear rustling and look towards her. There, in her hands, lies a bouquet of lakelight lilies, and yet it stings more than ever before, being the second choice. But doesn’t it fit so well? Perhaps too well. You quickly look away to avoid the sixth batch of tears.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

A bitter laugh leaves your throat before you can even stop yourself, your gaze refusing to even glance in her direction, your voice practically a sneer.

“What, did they run out of my favourite?”

“Stop that. Please. You know I love you.”

How are you so angry, so hurt, yet your heart still beats for her? Her lips come to your forehead in a kiss, and there’s a whimper before you burst into quiet sobs again.

“You admitted you don’t. What am I to you? A friend, a lover, the way I thought we were? Or some sort of sick rebound?”

Arlecchino has a tendency to stay silent when someone is correct and she does not want to admit it. Maybe because she won’t can’t admit it to herself, maybe because she can’t see you cry anymore.

“You are a cruel woman, Peruere. You use me all these years, you pretend I am someone I am not, you ruin me, and yet I find myself choosing to wait for you to want me like a dog with a bird at the door. A stray dog chasing after any sort of attention you will give me, don’t you realise, you stupid woman? I whine for you and your affection and you choose to muzzle me and leave me at the side of the road to favour someone who died so long ago. Is that what I am to you? A mutt, waiting and ready for you to kick when you’re down?”

Your outburst is unexpected, the usually stoic and unfearing woman flinching at the sheer desperation in your words. Her lips begin to form your name, but you snarl, cutting her off.

“Call me for who you think I am. Strays and mutts cycle through names anyway, so why does it matter? Say it.”

When she doesn’t respond, your anger explodes, and you push the lilies out of her hand, trampling on them and shoving her over and over again as you demand that she calls you the name you know she’s been secretly calling you. If anyone were to push and shove her the way you’re doing, they’d be ash, a new spirit to haunt her in her dreams. Yet, she withstands it with a blank face, her eyes swirling with regret and sadness.

“Shall I bark for you, Peruere? Get on my knees and beg for you to pay attention to me? Would that make you feel better? Or shall I dye my hair red and buy a white headband, and wear that damned necklace I know you keep?”

Eventually her eyes close, and she mutters a word so quiet you almost can’t hear it over the sound of your rushing heart and your ragged breathing. Your eyes burn again, but you only wish you could burn her in her own flames until she herself becomes a spirit.

“Clervie.”

That seems to do it for you, barking out a harsh laugh that’s anything but happy. You move towards the door, sliding whatever shoes you can find on.

“Oh, my poor, mad, cursed knave. You live up to who people think you are, after all. When you’re dying in the war that will occur when your precious god gets what she wants, I hope you scream for me. I hope I’m there to watch.”

With your final words, you slam the door so hard it almost comes off of its hinges, leaving a stunned, hurt Arlecchino Peruere to clean up the mess of what she had caused, both physically and mentally, though she wonders if she ever could.

[fatuismooches]

Hello! I’d like to make another request if possible. I really loved how you did the Harbingers taking care of their sick s/o headcanons. Can I have headcanons with all the Harbingers comforting their s/o when they are crying? I know Pulcinella is supposed to be platonic, so maybe he can go into doting grandpa mode.

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: When you're crying and upset, the first person you go to is none other than the one you love most. And of course, they never fail to deliver their love for you.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Ah yes, hurt and comfort, my favorite trope. I hope this makes everyone feel slightly better, whether you're having a good or bad day, you got this! <3

Disclaimer: Just so I don’t get repetitive, I just want to say that if another person made you cry, all of the Harbingers would have no problems doing some really… bad things to them. Since that’s out of the way, let’s continue.

Pierro:

Pierro would spend a normal day with you. You may ask why this is so special, but being the lover of the First Harbinger, who carries heavy burdens from Khaenri’ah, means you often don’t have “normal” days together. But when you’re this sad and crying, he has to make an exception. He would let himself sleep in with you, hold you close to him as you tell him everything and anything that’s been bothering you. (Despite his responsibilities, he still yearns to be updated on your life.) Pierro carries you to the bath and the two of you spend some time enjoying each other’s presence. He helps to dress you, and he cooks breakfast himself, which is eaten in peaceful silence. A long walk is taken through Snezhnaya and he lets you cling to his arm, despite the occasional looks of the other Fatui grunts. The two of you would walk through the forests and snow, and the town and markets of the frozen country. This kind of stuff might seem so bare and boring to outsiders, but you know that his time is the most precious gift you can receive from him, and you would want nothing else for comfort.

Capitano:

The one who is sincerely trying his best out of everyone and trying every method possible to cheer you up. Drops anything that he’s doing and while Capitano isn’t sure what to do, he knows his chest hurts more terribly than any battle wound when you’re sad. He is very protective of you, and wants nothing more than to destroy anything that’s causing you pain. And so, he thinks about what you do whenever you think he’s sad, and decides to spread his arms out to the side like you do when you want a hug. And of course you take the bait and practically launch yourself at him, but he catches you with ease. (When you teach this man how to hug and hold you properly, it is HEAVENLY. No better feeling than Capitano holding you snug on his lap with one arm while the other does whatever else he needs to do. Him one handedly holding you to his chest while the other is swinging a greatsword battling people. Yup.)

Tries every domestic thing in the book you gave him a while ago but kind of fails. When he cooks he chops up the ingredients disproportionately. When he picks flowers himself for you, the stems are half broken because he squeezed them too hard. When he reads stories to you and tries to give the characters different voices for you, you start laughing so hard your head hurts again. Capitano starts to feel bad, that your lover is someone whose only great strength is battle and leading others into war. But when all you do is smile at him and thank him, tugging on his arm to lay down with you, he can’t help but feel like he’s becoming more worthy of you.

Columbina:

The first thing is does is pull you into her lap and strokes your gently, humming a soft lullaby over your sniffles, in an effort to help you take a nap. Columbina knows you must be exhausted from so many tears, so she wants you to rest and just take a break from everything. She’ll be by your side the entire time. Also, any song requests are available for her during this time. She would sing for you however long you want even if her voice goes hoarse.

I don’t know why but I feel like she likes fluffy/soft and silky things. So the two of you would definitely be wrapped up in the softest blankets and pillows, even some plushies here and there. Columbina tends to place her head on the crook of your neck and just kiss the tears away (lots of back hugs.) Her words are quiet and soft-spoken but you can clearly hear them when she’s so close to your ear. Also, lots of looking up new hair styles so you can do whatever you want with her hair.

Dottore:

That ever-present smirk of his fades a bit when he sees you cry. Out of everyone, he is the most dumb-founded, because the emotion is not very familiar to him, and since he’s never seen you like this before, he has no data or experiences to help him know what to do. Yes, he had seen people cry before… cry in fear when they saw him. So he just stands there and lets you cry into his chest, a vial of unknown liquid in one hand while the other one is placed very hesitantly and awkwardly on the top of your head. 

If this was anyone else, he would laugh in their face about their problems, but when it comes to you? You got his utmost attention. When Dottore comforts you, he first follows the very basics of comforting - just listening to what you have to say. He had grown accustomed to your physical touch, and in fact, secretly welcomed it since it made you feel better. Dottore is more of a logical person rather than an emotional one, so he won’t baby you or use too many honeyed words. Instead, he’d use more facts, solutions, and things you haven’t thought of before. The most verbal affection you’ll get is something along the lines of not letting fools rile you up, that you’re his partner for a reason (but that’s a lot coming from Dottore.) Makes it a mental note to make a clone follow you around from now on so your day would go more smoothly. Also the kind of guy to make his clones play card/board games with you and let you win on purpose. Would make you a hot cup of tea, his coat draped over you, while you watch him go about his experiments and such. Also the guy who would simultaneously be down to help you get revenge on anyone if you wished.

Pulcinella:

The grandpa who takes one look at you and beckons you to follow him for some tea and sweets. Makes you sit down next to him and lets you cry to your heart’s content. Depending on your personality, he already has a hundred ways to make you feel better. (After all, I headcanon that the Harbingers tend to rant to him about anything and he gives them advice/consolation. Papanella’s hugs are really nice, to be honest, it feels like you’re really hugging someone who cares about you.) This might be random - but you know those memes where grandparents always make you lots of food when you go over to their house? Well… that’s Pulcinella since I think that it would be cute.

He would distract you from whatever’s bothering you with a new story of course. Somehow, no matter how many times he tells you stories, he always has a new one. He’s also the one who would also gently urge you to confront your problems. Nonetheless, he’s very comforting and if you asked him he’d help you with whatever you’re dealing with. Pulcinella also forces the other Harbingers to cheer you up too.

Scaramouche:

Who does he have to kill? Pretty much the first thing that goes through Scaramouche’s mind when he sees tears roll down your face. If you reassure that this is not the case, he is not sure what to do afterwards. Whenever Kunikuzushi showed emotions, he was seen as week, vulnerable and received no comfort, so he kept it inside him. So now when he sees you crying so freely in front of him, he doesn’t know what to do. At first he is gruff in his words, telling you simply not to cry, that you don’t need to worry over dumb things when you have him, but of course this does not do much to relieve you of your sadness. So he sighs and places his hat on you since Scaramouche knows how much you like it.

A habit I think he picked up from when he was Kunikuzushi, is that he went to different scenic places to just pass the time and escape from sheer loneliness. He would tentatively hold your hand and lead you to one of these places nearby, and just sit with you. He wouldn’t say anything much because he didn’t want to say anything he didn’t mean to. And the two of you would just watch the sun turn into the moon. The golden sky transform into a starry night. Scaramouche would wordlessly keep an arm around you. Your life was too short to be sad, anyway.

Arlecchino:

Yet another Harbinger who has no experience comforting someone who they actually care about. But that cold mask of her breaks for a split second when she sees you cry.  Every time one of the orphans cried, she kind of just looked at them and ordered another Fatui agent to take care of them. Physical nor verbal affection are her forte, so Arlecchino would rather show you how much she cares. She’d carry you to her shared room with you, lay you down and pull up the blankets. She’d move her office temporarily into the room so she could still work but in actuality she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your hand while you tell her what happened. Arlecchino spoon feeds you, wipes any crumbs away with a tissue. When you fall asleep, she very carefully holds you to her chest and whispers words of love you’ll be hard-pressed to hear while you’re conscious.

La Signora:

It is a bit melancholic for La Signora - she never had the chance to wipe away her past lover’s tears, but now that she has the ability to finally do so for you, she feels a sense of bittersweetness. But she is very confident in herself, and she would like you to feel the same, so she would not hesitant with her honeyed verbal affirmation. She traces over every inch of your body, pointing out all the perfections and beauty she sees within you. She tells you how lucky she is to have someone like you in her life, after everything she’s been through. Rosalyne hums an old Mondstadt song and asks you mundane questions (Do these shoes match this hairpiece? Does this color go with that one?) Has her moths perch on your shoulder and smother you with warmth.

Pantalone:

Oh boy, he is just so sweet <3. Pantalone’s hugs are definitely the warmest; you feel bundled up not only in his fluffy coat but also in his genuine comfort and care for you, black locks tickling your cheek. He’s another one who's keen on pampering you, only that he can do it more easily. He has access to all the funding and bank reserves. Nothing is unattainable. And his workload is different from the other Harbingers - he can sit you on his lap, listening to your woes and worries while repeatedly signing his signature on documents for the whole day. When it comes to you, Pantalone has a great amount of patience. He has all the tissues ready for you and will hold onto every word you utter, so he can refute it later.

I think that he is big on self-care, especially for you, so when you’re upset he just wants to help you look and feel amazing again while murmuring words of consolation and love. This means that he will adoringly wash and comb your hair while carefully listening to anything you have to say, whether it’s a loud rant or hushed words of sadness. Helps you slip into the comfiest night clothes. Reads you any story you desire in that velvety voice of his. Is very fond of calling you a variety of pet names, like “my love” or “darling”, anything romantic really. Pantalone really hates seeing you cry. It’s one of the only times you would see him without a smile and a creased forehead.

Sandrone:

When Sandrone sees you crying, a burst of… unfamiliar emotion she rarely feels erupts in her chest, completely contrary to what she usually feels after working with puppets all day. Why? She was worried. How? She was upset. Who? She was angry that she couldn’t protect you. Her Automation quickly scoops you up and places you on her lap, letting you curl into your lover’s chest. Swiftly moves you to her private room and lets you cry into her shoulder for as long as you want, silently rubbing your back. (Many wonder if Sandrone’s feet ever touch the floor, always perched atop her robot’s hand. If only they could see how tender she was with you.)

She is intelligent in the most complex engineering, but when it comes to properly comforting you, she is at a loss. But she really does try her best. I feel as though she would implement nondeadly and rather cute features in her robots just to make you smile. (Pull the robot’s finger and a bouquet of flowers comes out! It tips its hat at you and some confetti comes out!) Sandrone would take you out for some fresh air to clear your head. Also provides quality entertainment. What is it, you ask? If you find watching her prototype model Automatons fight to the death, then you’ll surely have a joyous time. (You can’t help but laugh regardless. I’m now thinking about you placing bets on which robot wins with the other Fatui, but you always win because your lover tells you who's going to win before…)

Childe:

Childe would immediately pull you into his tight embrace, with no hesitation. He’s used to the sniveling and tears of his younger siblings, so as soon as he sees your crumpled face he knows exactly what to do. No matter how much you wet his clothes, Childe won’t let you go until you ask him to. He amps the pampering up to the maximum. Blanket cocoons/burritos are an absolute must. He cooks food himself so you could have the warm feeling of home cooking surrounding you. He would literally do all of the household tasks, not allowing you to lift a finger. He’d want to help bathe you, wash your hair, scrape away the grime from the day, gently worship your body by pressing affirmative kisses, and tell you how amazing you are, and how much you mean to him.

Childe is a really good listener and takes what you say very seriously if you’re willing to tell him. If it is a problem he can fix, you can bet he’s going to have some agents solve it, and even take care of it himself if anything. If you want to stay silent, he won’t pressure you, but his touch lets you know that he’s always here for you. Honestly, he probably spoils you more intensely for a few days because he knows that when you cry, you don’t magically wake up the next day fine again. Without fail, Childe would ask you how you’re feeling, monitoring your emotions and feelings. When you’re sad, he is too. How can he ever focus when his love is hurting? Also takes advantage of all possible cuddling positions.

[makuzume]

The Last Time You Talked to Him

🔅Yuta Okkotsu

🔅Content: Inspired by the recent spread on the events happening in JJK 261🥲; MEGA spoilers; gn! reader; Word Count: 1k

🔅a/n: I was genuinely sobbing with hot streams of tears falling down my eyes while writing this at 4 AM I am DEVASTATED I had to express it somehow,, Didn't expect to have such attachment to this boy.

[JJK Masterlist]

"...Yu...?"

The silence was loud, deafening even.

The weather tonight was pleasant and had a clear sky: the moon was high, the stars were out, the breeze was calm...

You could say it would've been a perfect evening to have another lovely date by the usual spot: under the big tree, behind the school, sitting on the soft grass...

However, despite the scenic atmosphere that surrounded you, the look on both of your faces were low-spirited, displaying a sorrowful expression.

"...Yuta..." Slowly, you lowered your head, staring at the ground in front of you as you hugged your knees closer to your chest.

"...Please...." You whisper, almost pleaded as a few droplets began to form at the corners of your glistening eyes.

As you did your best to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel your facade begin to slowly break, like a dam of overwhelming emotion threathening to burst at any moment, bit by bit-

A dam that's ready to release all sorts of feelings: pain, sadness, fear, worry, hatred, and love.

Your breathing slowly began to turn uneven, your quiet voice shaking slightly.

"....Don't go... please..."

That was it for you.

Those words were enough to completely break your self-control, cracking the dam open.

Your face immediately hid in between your arms as you tightly gripped on your knees, releasing all of the emotions that had built up inside of you, unable to contain them any longer.

It hurt, it really hurt, knowing what will happen to him after tonight.

"....." Yuta was silent, dead slient, unable to think of any proper response to say to you.

I mean, what was he supposed to do in this situation? Should he hug you? Hold your hand? Lie Reassure you and say he'll come back safely??

If the one you loved comes to you and suddenly announces that he'll be stitched into another person's dead body to battle against the most notorious curse in history within in the next hour, what else are you left to follow up with??

The person you loved the most... now using your dead teacher's body, whom you both respected so much, as a vessle, a puppet, nothing more than a weapon... isn't that a little too messed up?

Why him?

As sickening it is to use Gojo's body to the very end, you're just as disgusted at the situation where it came to a point that a young man, such as Yuta, needed to be the one to step up and tackle the situation.

For his friends, for Gojo, for all sorcerers, all civilians, and even for you. Your peace.

And everyone agreed to this, even Gojo, which made you sick to the stomach. Seeing how even your late teacher accepted the dehumanization of his own being for the sake of becoming a mere shell of a weapon, further being pushed even agter his death; turning himself into the monster everybody needed him to be.

'I will be the monster.' He just had to say it.

Your growing disappointment in the reality of the sorcerer world only continued to grow more.

But you knew it was something he has to do... he wants to do... for everyone. It would be selfish- incredibly selfish for you to beg him to stay with you, endangering the world because of it.

But you couldnt help it. Every fiber in your being was screaming for him to not do it, it's gone too far, all of it, even though that the plan was already set in motion when you found out.

It was hard to hate him for doing that, but at the same time, you hated the fact for still loving that strong sense of morals he clings onto so much.

With your head still hidden deep within your knees, you sob "...Please.... please don't go... pleas, Yu...." You tried your best to speak in between your desperate cries, your words getting more and more inaudible as you weakly shaking your head in denial.

You couldnt help but still try to plea desperately, as void as your attempts would be.

You knew your words were uselses, you knew he would push through anyway, you knew he was the one who wanted to do this, for the sake of humanity- but still.

All you could do was plea, as if asking the Gods for a miracle. A miracle that somehow all of this this: the deaths, the curses, Shibuya, Sukuna, sorcery as a whole... was just some big screwed up dream.

Yuta slowly scoots closer to you, his hand ever so gently resting on the top of your trembling body. His hand gently caresses your back, comforting your shaking figure that hitched out quiet, miserable cries.

"My angel...." he spoke, calling out to you gently as you let yourself cry for a little more before trying to calm down.

Your heart ached for a moment upon hearing his affectionate and caring tone once more, and perhaps for the final time. It was already impossible for you to cry any more intensely. It hurts you like hell and you were already crying as if you had already lost him.

He knew nothing could ease the situation and trying to lighten it would only do nothing. All the both of you, and everyone else, could do is just accept the fate this world has to offer him; Accept the gamble of a lifetime Yuta will be risking.

Risk if never coming back as himself, risk of death, risk of defeat and the triumph of curses...

He wanted to say so many things he could never say in an hours worth of time. Yuta still wanted to tell you how much he loved spending time with you, how much he admried you, how happy he is everytime he made you smile; how happy he is just even thinking about you...

He ended up saying none of it, hoping you would have already known all the things he wouldve wanted to tell you.

The sad part is: you would know. You understand him better than anyone else- and you knew every single word of affection, fear, regret, guilt, and love he wanted to tell you. And imagining hearing him say those things would only end up hurting you even more.

...

Will it be the same? Will he come back? Will he survive.

No one's certain, yet, you remain clinging on to hope.

But fate is cruel, in reality. Fate is painful. Fate is uncertain. No one knows what will make of him after this

After taking a while to collect yourself, finally, you look up at him, your hand clenching so hard to your chest, your lungs so empty of air, and your cheeks stained with the warm stream of tears falling from your eyes.

"...I love you most....don't ever forget."

Yuta said, almost like a promise, like a goodbye.

He loves you, more than anything, even his own life itself- he loved you more.

Which is why he is willing to risk it in order to create a peaceful world for you to live in, and only he was ready.

As difficult as it may be, you knew it was a hard slap to the face by reality for you to accept fate. It was imposisble, but inevitable.

The world of sorcerers was never a place of clear blue skies and joyful songs. Its a dark place.

It's hard to blame anyone, because this is where fate had let you afterall, a tragic end to a supposed-to-be love story that could've ended with a better ending.

"....Let's meet here again... once everything is over." In the most gentle tone, he spoke. His eyes looking at you filled with so much love as if you were the only thing that mattered that moment.

Against all opposing forces, you somehow convinced yourself to force a smile: it was weak... filled with sorrow and affection mixed together, and you did your best to show your pretty little smile he loved so much, knowing it might have been something he needed the most right now.

He only regrets he may not be with you after everything has finished; not be able to train with you and get stronger together- not be able to spend the rest of his days with you anymore, like he promised, like he hoped.

....That, and the fact that this would perhaps the last time he would be able to see your smile ever again.

I'll see you again soon...

...Yuta.

[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Overall Masterlist]

a/n: It took me a while to edit this before posting cause of the amount of typos I had to deal with as I sobbed while making this but at least I captured the heart of my emotions during a vulnerable time lol I guess

YUTA LITERALLY SHOUDERED SUCH A BURDEN BC HE KNOWS IT'S SO MISERABLE AND SAD FOR GOJO TO BE THE ONLY MONSTER AND DEHUMANIZED BUT NO ONE ELSE WAS TRYING TO DO WHAT GOJO DID MY BOYYYY

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

[starzshopoflove]

Sweetness

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates.

WC: 2.3k

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost has been weird lately—really weird. He’s not yelling at recruits; he’s not entertaining Soap's stupid arguments; he doesn't get irritated as quickly; and more noticeably, he’s been far more brutal on the field.

Ghost never hesitated to use himself as a shield, letting himself take the pain he thought they didn't deserve. He still did, but now it was different; he was a wall of muscle, but now he pushed for them to get out of fire asap. He’d kill the enemy with more prejudice, like they had already killed his most cherished friends. The look in his eyes was more wild; the adrenaline in his blood was more like fire than it was chemical. Pumping around his big body, he chanted “Protect, Protect, Protect,” which he liked much more than when it used to say “Kill Kill Kill.”

They always loved Ghost as the no-nonsense in-and-out man on the field, the one who always puts others before himself during missions, a man who'd welcome death with open hands if it meant the rest of 141 would live. They loved Simon, the man on base without the skull of a man hiding him, the one who wore a less scary baklava, the man with scars and cuts on his face when they went to the pub, the man with horrible jokes, the man who'd make the base's shitty tea somewhat edible. Simon was different too. Simon ate faster, talked a little more, and rushed to get alone as soon as he could, locking his door and not letting anyone in past dark.

Price got tipped off when he saw the little line of white peeking out of one of his vest pockets on the chopper back to base after the whole Las Almas mission. Short square over his heart under the flag that he proudly wore on his vest. He couldn't see the photo, of course, but he could tell what it was.

A captain should know everything about his force—their past, present, and future. Price knew his past and possibly knew more about his present when they weren't on duty. He knew Simon had shifted flats, moving closer to the city center, when Simon told him to update his address on his off-base database file in order to get any checks or documents for future missions. Simon didn't tell him why. Price assumed probably better rent, or maybe he was sick of the shitty neighborhood he once resided in, or maybe he was sick of walking a half hour for groceries.

Price was getting an itch—an itch he didn't like. Price hated not knowing; of course everyone was entitled to a private life, but not when it put him off.

He felt dirty snooping in Simon's office, betraying his lieutenant's trust. He waited until Simon went back to his quarters, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Nothing felt different, and nothing looked different either. The burning fluorescent lights flickered every now and then, but the air was still stale. No photos, no knicknacks on his desk, bare. Absolute bare, devoid of any personality, anything that would tell you about him, anything you could use against him had the enemy invaded the base.

Pacing around the room, Price checked under the desk and in the drawers twice. He winced at the squeak of the steel on the wheels and how loud it sounded. He snooped through documents, flicking through them quickly, only seeing the same pen and paper against the Manila folders. His eyes scanned the room again and again, only making him bubble and sigh in frustration, running his hand through his hair and gripping his hat in the other.

He stared at the metal closet, almost like it was staring back. Open me. Open me. I have what you want. As if it were beckoning him to spill every secret inside. Everyone had the same one. No one liked opening it; doing that meant leaving, meant war, and meant more time on the field. The field where you were going to get killed or killed, feeling less human every time you shoot. You welcome the gnawing, snarling, vapid ache that takes up all the space in your lungs when you try to breathe when you open that closet.

He hesitated at first, turning the little lock handle before opening the door gently, trying not to focus on the squeaking. Everything stared back, and Ghost stared back. The mask, once plain fabric, is now soaked in years of war; the blood of war dogs saturated it, and the skull of a man no one knew was tightly bound to it.

Grim, dirt, and filth

Guns that had killed more men than one could say, knives clean but still holding the smell of iron and sweat, boots with soles dirtied with soil and dust, and his vest Almost the same one wore the UK flag stitched neatly on with the same little rectangle shape pressed behind, right over the heart.

He wanted to shut the door, he wanted to leave, and he wanted to do everything that would allow him to pretend nothing happened and that he was never in here. He didn't, justifying in his mind that he was doing the right thing.

I'm not doing anything wrong

Unhooking the vest from the inside holding it in his hands, heavy.

I'm just worried

He set the vest flat on the desk, burning holes into it with his eyes.

I just want to know whats happening

His hands almost shook, sliding 2 fingers in the pocket, a soft grip on the polaroid, a feeling that confirmed everything he thought on the heli.

I'm doing this for you

The photo was small, almost choking him when he saw it. When he saw you, A big, bright smile pulled on a young woman's face—a toothy smile you only make when you're in love. Your eyes shut so tight, your hair is messy from the wind, framing your face so delicately, and the big bouquet in your hands is held so tightly that the stems may have bent. You were beautiful, no doubt, but his eyes lingered over to the man next to you before they glanced down at the writing in the ink pen.

Simon and I, 2.6. Manchester flower festival

Simon was staring at you in the photo, not even bothering to pay attention to the camera. Even if the photo wasn't high quality, anyone could see his eyes melting at the sight of you, how relaxed his shoulders were, and the crease next to his eyes from how he was smiling. Simon was smiling, not grinning or smirking like he does after everyone groans at his awful joke; he was smiling like he'd won the powerball.

Swallowing his pride and shame, he carefully tucked the photo back in and just as cautiously put it back. Backing out of the office, he could feel every question creeping up from the back of his brain.

“Who is she?" “What was her name?”

“How old was she?”  “What does she do?”

“Does she know?"

He pushed his thoughts back down, shaming himself for suspecting anything about Simon, mentally noting to sneak him some better quality tea as a silent apology.

___

Simon isn't stupid. He can tell they're all being weird.

Is he going to ignore it? Absolutely. 

They’re all cramped up in the corner of the shitty pub booth, drinking the shitty beer, and having a shitty night. Waiting for the night before leave starts is both exciting and irritating; each of them is counting down the seconds until they're home, be it alone or with family. Anything is better than a night on their cot in a cold, soulless room on base.

Simon was letting his skin breathe, finally taking off his plain balaclava when they were far enough off base to nurse his pint while the ball of his foot anxiously bounced his leg. He needed to be home, needed to be with you, needed to hold you; he just needed you. Inside his head, he was practically foaming at the mouth, snarling at himself, trying to make every second go by faster than it should so he could finally get his fix.

While he wasn't showing it, he couldn't hide the impatience basically seeping out of his pores, eyes hazed and uninterested in anything around him, his mind drowning out the sounds of the group's conversation with all the noise in the pub combining into a numbing chatter. He was so lost in his own head that he couldn't hear soap talking to him until he felt an elbow on his side.

“Awright? a'm talking tae ye?” 

“Sorry. Say it again”

Bad choice. Soap had that stupid look on his face, a teeth-baring grin with his eyebrows slightly turned up, like he knew something he shouldn't. That alone made his eyes move on Gaz next to him, then Price. Gaz looked constipated, brows furrowed together, nostrils flared as he focused on his own pint, and suddenly Price was doing the same. Soaps eyes bored into Simons while the other 2 men had a new intense interest in their drinks.

“Said ye leek lik' yer thinking aboot yer bird”

“Don't know what your saying”  

“Och c'moan dinnae lie tae us, a' body kin tell.” 

Suddenly Simon also understood what was so interesting about his pint, bringing the drink back to his lips while his eyes gazed off at the wall next to him. He could feel his back itching and shifting in his seat, his shoulders tensing back up as he bottomed out with his drink, letting the glass sit back down on the table.

“Said, I don't know what youre talkin’ about.”

“Right, 'n' a'm king o' scotland.”

Soap was getting too close and cocky for comfort, too loudly sniffing about where he shouldn't, and poking the bear with a stick too short. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting the black fabric stretch as he puffed out his chest still with that fucking grin.

“Heard ye talking tae her.”

“No you didn't.”

Price's interest in his pint redirected to the tense conversation on his left; he knew he shouldn't know, but he didn't know Soap knew. The guilt from earlier that was frigid in his mind thawed a little at Simon's denial. If he was lying, that means he was right to search, right? You should never lie to your captain, after all.

“Really? Haven’t got a bird at home?”

“No.” 

“Dinnae ye know lyin a’ sin”

A gutted groan left Soap as he folded over to hold his own knee from the sudden kick under the table. At this point, there was no use lying. If anyone was going to find out about you, it was better for them than anyone else. Mental gymnastics were set aside as he made a list.

On one hand, they could act as insurance; god forbid anything happens to him, you would be safer with them alone, never knowing what happens, and maybe now you would stop pestering him about meeting his friends (he doesn't have any but them). On the other hand, the possibility of you being compromised would finally exist; that thought alone could make him sick.

A long drag of stale air settled in his lungs, slamming his eyes shut as he let that same breath out. Straightening his back and resting his arms on the table, he let them flutter open and fall on Soap.

“You get one question each. One”

Giddy laughter bubbled up out of Johnny; he was just so happy he could finally open up Simon's brain and have a peek. Shooting down both Price and Johnny's question with a quick answer of your name and age only to result in Johnny giving him a wolf whistle that rewarded him with another kick to the shin. Gaz let his nervous shifting settle now that the cat was out of the bag, with his question filling the air with a new strain of tension.

“Can we see her?”

Hair. On. Ends. 

What does he mean by can they see you? Do they want to meet you? Just a picture? Or will that put you in more danger than them now knowing you exist? Maybe it’ll be safer?

“One picture, than nothin else outta you lot for tonight” 

Digging through his album of you in search of a simple photo was tougher than he thought; most were in your shop working, you asleep, some in a more compromising position than he’d like to share, but granted, he finally found one.

You were sitting on your shop counter with your hands settled on the wood supporting you while you had that same teeth-baring smile, eyes open this time, and hair not whipped by the wind. In all honesty, Simon thought you were perfect like this, makeup or not; he loved seeing you like this. You could wear neon-colored jumpsuits for the rest of your lives, and he’d still think you're gorgeous.

It was always you to him. Anytime he sees you, he thinks he could go limp. He was hopelessly devoted to you, ready to drop to his knees and confess all his sins if it meant he could drown in you. You invaded all his senses, unearthing parts of him he didn't know were still alive. You calmed that sick mess festering in him that used to wait until it was dark to sink its teeth into him, reminding him how disgusting he was. You dragged him out of that soulless apartment and breathed life into him. Every time you flood him with ambrosia and honey with the sound of your voice or the heat of your skin.

Well, now he had to let them meet you. A photo could never do you justice.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

can u tell i let this chapter get away from me a bit near the end