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lucky-number-salim · 2 years

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Someone on AO3 gave me this idea and because I'm weak for old men in love I had to write it. Title is from Lana Del Rey's Young and Beautiful, give it a listen while you read <3

Summary: After ten years together with Jason, Salim deals with the insecurities of his own aging body.

Word count: 3.2k

Salim X Jason: Will you still love me?

Salim knew he was staring.

But Jason was right there; clad only in a towel with water droplets dripping down his muscular body. The ex-marine had just gotten out of his shower and stood with his back turned to Salim, giving the Iraqi a clear view of broad shoulders and a narrow waist as Jason busied himself with rummaging through the closet for his work clothes for tomorrow.

It was barely 10PM but they were already getting ready for bed. Salim could feel the exhaustion of the day setting in, nestled comfortably between the covers while he waited for Jason to join him in the simple domesticity of falling asleep in each other’s arms.

It had been just over ten years since that fateful day in sprawling caves deep within the Zagros mountains and almost as long since his and Jason’s friendship blossomed into something more. It hadn’t been easy, but through years of compromises, paperwork and awkward family dinners, they had eventually been able to start a new life together far away from the temple that still haunted their nightmares.

And for the last three years, Salim had had the privilege of calling Jason his husband. It was funny, how Salim only found himself falling more in love with his idiot American for each day that passed.

Salim shook the thought from his head and looked back up at Jason, who was now taking his sweet time drying off his damp body.

Even after seeing it countless times during the last ten years together, Salim didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at his husband’s body. Jason had aged gracefully, just reaching his peak in the last couple of years. He was firm and muscular – courtesy of working in a warehouse and still keeping up a rigid training schedule – even though his days in the marines were long past. The boyish roundness of his face had given way for sharp angles that continued all the way down his body, from his toned chest to the firm line of the V as hard abs tapered off into narrow hips. Even his hot temper had mellowed out a bit, not quite as brash and impulsive as when they were younger, but still stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be.

As far as Salim was concerned, Jason had aged like fine wine. Himself, on the other hand…

Well. Salim may not have spoiled like milk, but he definitely felt like his "best before" date had come and gone.

His temples had greyed and his hair thinned, resulting in a bald spot at the crown of his head. He had also put on more than a couple pounds; Salim had always had a stocky build, but now all that fat seemed to have gone to his gut, making him strain to buckle his belt every morning. Wrinkles had appeared in the strangest places as his skin started to sag, and he'd chosen to grow out a beard in a feeble attempt to hide his double chin.

Salim was also not as in shape as he used to be, having traded manual labor and his days in the Iraqi army for an office job and comfortable lifestyle abroad. He got winded when carrying groceries up to their fifth-story apartment and definitely had trouble keeping up with his energetic lover between the sheets.

"You like the show?" Jason suddenly spoke.

Salim’s gaze snapped up from staring emptily into the bedsheets to meet Jason’s eyes. His husband was standing in front of the wardrobe and cocking his hips with a smug smile, clad in nothing but his boxers. No matter how much the British weather chilled their home, Jason always insisted on sleeping in nothing but his underwear – if even that – and walking around the apartment in form-fitting t-shirts that showed off his build.

And Salim had never complained before. But now, looking down at his own lumpy body covered by ugly flannel pajamas and the thick salt and pepper hair peeking out from the collar, he was acutely aware of the glaring difference in their physical attractiveness.

"Salim? You okay, babe?" Jason asked, the bravado leaving his voice.

“I’m fine,” Salim said stiffly.

He pulled the comforter up to his shoulders in a childish gesture. Jason raised an amused eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead choosing to lie down on top of the covers and turn to face Salim. He propped himself up on one elbow, head resting on his hand, casually showing off his mostly nude form and making Salim self-consciously bury himself even further into the blanket.

"Ten years and you're still dogshit at lyin'," Jason said, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smile. “Now tell me what’s up.”

“It’s nothing,” Salim said. “It was stupid.”

“I’m stupid. Try me.”

Salim took one glance into Jason’s curious brown eyes and knew that his husband wouldn’t let this go.

“Fine,” Salim sighed, ignoring Jason’s victorious smile. “I was indeed enjoying your little ‘show’, as you put it. But it also made me a little… insecure.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on,” Salim scoffed. “Just look at yourself.”

He gestured vaguely to all of Jason and his stupidly attractive body.

“I dunno, I’d much rather look at you,” Jason said. He tugged on the corner of the blanket but Salim refused to let go. Huffing in annoyance, Jason continued, “C’mon. You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that right?”

Salim definitely did not know that. He would even say he actively disagreed with that.

Following Salim’s silence, Jason suddenly tensed and got a familiar look in his eyes.

“Did someone say somethin’ to you?” Jason said, anger flashing over his face. “Fuck, was it that nasty bitch downstairs? I swear, if she so much as looks at you again–”

“No, no, Jason, calm down,” Salim said. He pushed down the comforter to place a reassuring hand on his husband’s shoulder. “There’s no need to jump to defend my honor. Mrs. Thompson hasn’t done anything.”

Well; apart from the usual dirty glares and vaguely xenophobic comments. Still, the old woman’s dislike of Salim had little to do with his current predicament.

“This is all me and my own thoughts about how I’ve let myself go,” Salim said.

“What?” Jason sounded genuinely offended at the remark. “Why the fuck would you even think that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me it ain’t,” Jason said. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

"Mm-hmm." Salim’s voice dripped with skepticism. "Not one? Not ten pounds or my bad knee or lackluster stamina?"

"Not a damn thing.”

"Don't tell me this is going to be another case of 'Yer just as puurty as the day I met ya, darlin'," Salim drawled in his most obnoxious Southern accent.

Jason huffed. "Nah."

"Good, because I was about to say–"

"You're even more handsome now then you were back then," Jason interrupted.

Salim sputtered and the rest of his sentence died on his tongue. Jason merely smirked at his incredulous expression.

“What? ‘S true,” his American said.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” Salim complained.

“I’m not. You were hot when we first met and you’ve only gotten hotter since.”

“The only thing I’ve gotten is older,” Salim said. “You can’t deny that it’s showing on me.”

Abruptly, the rest of the covers were lifted off of Salim as his husband clearly took the challenge, throwing the duvet to the side to get a good look at Salim. Salim tried not to fidget under the intense stare, the silence nerve-wracking as Jason studied all his imperfections from head to toe.

“I really don’t think you’ve changed that much,” Jason finally concluded.

"And I really don’t think you would protest if I had washboard abs," Salim shot back.

Unexpectedly, that comment made Jason scrunch up his nose. "Hell yeah I would."

"What?” Salim asked in confusion. “Why?"

"Just not into the whole gym rat look."

"Your build says otherwise."

"Doesn't mean I like it on you," Jason argued. "I like havin' somethin' to grab."

As if to prove his point, Jason grabbed two handfuls of Salim’s love handles and gently kneaded them. A flush rose up Salim’s neck from the action, and he cleared his throat self-consciously while Jason merely smirked in satisfaction.

"You have to admit I've put on a little much in the last few years," Salim said. "I've become somewhat… pudgy."

"Yeah, but you're thicc."

"Thick?"

"Learned that one from Zain." Jason sounded proud. "You're a thicc dilf."

"I don't even want to know what that means."

"That you're a daddy."

"I am a father, yes."

Jason looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh. Oh." Sometimes, Salim still had trouble grasping the double meaning of certain words.

"Yeah,” Jason said, grinning and still pawing at Salim’s body through his pajamas. “‘Sides, I know how strong you are. So you got a little meat on your bones; big deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'm fuckin' crazy about you, in case you haven't noticed."

“I know, I just…” Salim faltered. "Some days, it feels like I have nothing left to offer you but a tired soul and terrible jokes."

"The jokes can't be that bad if I've put up with 'em for ten years."

"I'm serious, Jason."

"So am I,” Jason said, finally stopping his wandering hands to look at Salim. “I thought you knew how much I love you?"

"Yes, but I’ve heard that before and she still decided to leave–”

Salim bit his tongue and looked away in shame. Even after all these years, the pain from Zain's mother abandoning them still haunted him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply…" Salim said. "I know you're not her."

He finally dared to look back at Jason, only to find that his husband’s face had softened in sympathy.

"Hey, it's okay," Jason said, his voice gentle. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"But you could do better than me,” Salim said. “You know you could."

"Nobody's better than you. Not for me."

Jason clasped Salim’s hand and ran a thumb over the wedding band on his ring finger.

"I dunno about you, but when I said ‘til death do us part, I meant it," Jason said.

Memories of their wedding day flooded Salim’s mind; images of close friends and laughter, of Jason’s smiling face and the promise of forever.

"But you didn't say that,” Salim said, trying not to smile at the memory. “You said ‘semper fucking fi’."

"Same thing."

"In your wedding vows,” Salim pointed out. “When you weren't even a marine anymore!"

"Yeah, but it made you laugh!" Jason said with a grin.

Salim huffed out a chuckle, just like he did three years ago during their modest courthouse wedding. Jason’s vows had been cheeky and unconventional and so incredibly him, making Salim want to rush the short ceremony even more just so he could kiss his new husband.

"I suppose I should be grateful you didn't shout Oorah at the end," Salim said.

"I was gonna, but Nicky threatened to throw the rings out the window if I went through with it."

“And Zain?”

“Bet me twenty pounds I wouldn’t have the balls to do it.”

"Of course he did,” Salim huffed, shaking his head fondly. “I knew there was a reason we put Nick in charge of the rings."

"Oh shut up," Jason said. “And you owe me a twenty for not takin’ the bet.”

“You would have owed me a ring if you went through with it,” Salim remarked.

“Fine, we’ll call it even,” Jason huffed, causing Salim to chuckle.

There was a beat of comfortable silence, of Jason’s callused hands brushing comfortingly against Salim’s own.

“So you truly meant forever?” Salim asked.

"I promise,” Jason reassured. “I love you now and I'll keep lovin' you no matter how old we get."

"Even when I get old man aches and you need to help me up the stairs for my afternoon nap?"

"You bet. Just like I hope you'll still put up with me when I get old and cranky and start yellin' at the TV."

"Like you aren't already angry and much too invested in your reality television."

"Case in point."

Salim chuckled and ran his fingers over Jason’s dry knuckles in a loving gesture. Sensing the relaxed atmosphere between them, he decided to voice a deep-rooted fear.

"I don't have as long as you left,” Salim said, his voice quieter than before.

"An' I could get T-boned on the highway and croak on my way to work tomorrow," Jason replied much too casually.

"That’s not the same,” Salim argued. “When you're sixty, I'll already be seventy. I'm not going to be able to keep up with you."

“I’m not gonna go fuckin’ rock climbin’ or vampire fightin’ at sixty.”

“But you might want to!” Salim protested. “And I would just be holding you back.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Jason sighed impatiently.

The American grabbed Salim’s hands more firmly, holding them in place while looking straight into his eyes.

“Babe, look,” Jason said, his expression serious. "If I ever made you feel like I didn't want you–"

"It's not that," Salim assured. "It's just… we’ve never talked about this."

"What's there to talk about? I thought we were good."

"I need to know how you feel about this. About me aging."

"Fuck, Salim, you know I'm not good with words."

"Just humor me. Please."

"...Alright,” Jason relented. His grip finally loosened on Salim’s hands. “What do you wanna know?"

"Where do you see us in five years?" Salim asked.

"Right here,” Jason said without any hesitation.

“What does that mean?”

“In our home, bein’ idiots together, humorin’ our husband’s dumb ‘what if’-scenarios ‘cause we love ‘em.”

Salim’s lips twitched up. Jason may have gotten more patient over the years, but he was still as bratty as ever.

"What about ten years? Twenty?" Salim prodded

“Same answer. Maybe with a Viagra bottle on the nightstand.”

Salim barked out a laugh at the unexpected answer.

“What? I thought we were talkin’ about gettin’ old,” Jason grinned.

“And sexual performance is what you choose to focus on?”

“Yeah, well maybe I got some insecurities about aging too,” Jason said.

And instantly, Salim’s own worries faded into the background.

“You do?” Salim said. “But you are in your prime–”

“Desperately clingin’ to it, that’s for sure,” Jason huffed. “I’m tryin’ to keep in shape but it’s just not the same. I can’t bench as much or do as many reps as I could ten years ago.”

For the first time this evening, Salim stayed quiet and listened. Though it was a surprise to hear Jason had worries of his own, he should have probably seen this coming. Salim had merely been so focused on his own age that he’d completely forgotten that his husband had aged right alongside him.

“Half the shit the kids at work talk about flies right over my head,” Jason continued. “I’ll have two beers and be hungover for three days after. I can’t read the small print in the paper without squintin’. I’m gettin’ old and it fuckin’ freaks me out.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Salim said gently.

Jason smiled at him. “I’d freak out so much more if I didn’t have you.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, I ain’t exactly done somethin’ with my life. I got discharged and have a fuckin’ warehouse gig and barely any money at forty,” Jason said. “But ‘cause I got you, none of that matters.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Salim said. “Marine or not, you are the most incredible man I have ever met.”

“Right back at ya,” Jason grinned. “You’re the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me. You and Zain are my family and I’ll be damned if I ever let that go.”

Salim swallowed. “Are you sure?”

"Hell yeah I’m sure,” Jason said, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “I wanna be that annoying ass couple that sits on the porch yellin' at kids together. Tellin' the same damn stories to Zain and the grandkids a hundred times 'cause nobody’s got the heart to correct us. Goin' to bed at 6PM because we're always just that fuckin' tired. Givin' each other gross wrinkly smooches 'cause we're still just as fuckin' obsessed with each other as we've always been."

Salim's heart clenched while he listened to Jason prattle on about their future with an ever widening smile. It sounded like his husband really had thought about this–much more than Salim, in fact.

Eventually, Jason's expression softened and he squeezed their interlocked hands.

"I wanna grow old with you. Love you for as long as we got left," Jason said.

And this time, Salim knew that he meant it.

Like flicking a switch, the storm inside Salim’s head cleared and was replaced by the overwhelming love he felt for this man. Salim could only swallow around the lump in his throat and blink blurriness from his eyes.

"I want that too," he managed with a trembling voice.

"Then c'mere, you dumbass," Jason grinned, back to his usual cocky self.

The American lifted up his arm and offered the spot to Salim. Wasting no time, Salim shuffled close to Jason and was immediately greeted by warm hands settling onto his waist and making the last of his worries melt away. He eagerly cuddled up to his husband, placing a sweet kiss on Jason’s jawline while enveloping his lover's smaller frame in his arms. When Jason placed an answering kiss on the crow’s feet at the corner of his eye, Salim realized the spot was damp with unshed tears.

“You said you weren’t good with words,” Salim said, huffing out a laugh. “Yet you have this old man in tears.”

“I got my moments,” Jason answered with a lopsided smile. “I take it you’re feelin’ better?”

“So much better.” He sighed into Jason’s chest in content. “Thank you, my love.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jason said. “I’m tellin’ ya, you really gotta stop worryin’ so much.”

“And you need to get some damn glasses,” Salim teased.

Jason groaned. “Knew you’d fuckin’ focus on that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had trouble reading?”

“‘Cause I don’t want fuckin’ reading glasses.”

“I’ll book you the appointment tomorrow.”

“Asshole.”

Salim laughed and Jason did too. He pulled back in their embrace to look into the same sparkling eyes he had fallen for all those years ago and leaned in for a proper kiss. As Jason hummed against his lips and rough hands rubbed gentle circles on Salim’s back, Salim didn’t know why he was ever worried.

He may not have looked the same as he did ten years ago, but neither did Jason. Their love had withstood long distances and enemy governments and even vampires, and no amount of Salim’s insecurities could ruin what they had.

When they pulled apart, Jason moved to nuzzle into the crook of Salim’s neck.

“Stop thinkin’ and go to sleep,” Jason murmured.

With one last chuckle and a kiss to his husband’s temple, Salim turned off the light in their bedroom and settled right back into the familiar routine of falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Because he knew that he would have this for many years to come.

#jalim #salim othman #jason kolchek #house of ashes #jason x salim #dark pictures house of ashes #fic

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wishesunderthestars · 3 years

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

Text

just friends

word count: 5,393

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: literally all fluff. maybe some swearing lol

a/n: this literally was supposed to be a short fluffy drabble and turned into a full on fic haha. I wrote a lot of this while I was half asleep so please excuse any spelling mistakes haha. I hope you guys like it! 💕 gif below isn’t mind, creds to the original creator!

haikyuu masterlist

Your window was only open slightly, meant for allowing the cool air to flow in, while also aiding for a certain somebody’s quick escape if it came down to that.

The Fukurōdani Academy Group Summer Camp started tomorrow. Well. Today, if you count the fact that it was already 2AM.

It had originally been 11PM. 3 hours ago, Akaashi Keiji had crawled up the side of your house and tapped his knuckles ever so softly on your window. It had freaked you out for a second until he texted you “Lemme in”, to which you then moved to the window to greet him with a confused look.

“Akaashi, if my parents hear you-” you started, glancing over your shoulder and hoping they hadn’t somehow managed to get to your bedroom door without you noticing.

“Then stay quiet and help me in,” he shrugged, slowly plopping into your room and smiling down at you. “How’s your evening?”

You just stared at him, “Akaashi, it’s late!” You hissed as he crawled into your bed and got comfortable like he was meant to be there. “What’re you doing awake anyways? Don’t you have to be up early for your training camp?”

Akaashi just gave a hum and a nod, patting the other side of the bed he wasn’t currently occupying and giving you a smile. You rolled your eyes and tucked yourself in next to him. It didn’t matter that the two of you were slightly squished, if anything your bed actually felt comfier this way.

Without any more questions, you and Akaashi laid there for hours, whispering as the time ticked by. Your legs slowly tangled together under the sheets and you fit in his side as if you were made to be there.

“What’re you thinking about?” Akaashi asked suddenly, his voice coated with fatigue, eyes lazily opening to look over at you and your pensive expression. It had been so long between topics, you had actually started to think he had fallen asleep.

“What do you mean?” You smiled back at him, your fingers still tracing along the lines on his palm like you had been for the past 10 minutes.

“You’re too quiet to be not thinking. And you’re obviously not sleeping. So what’re you thinking about?” Akaashi explained, interlacing your hands together for a moment. Just to see how they fit.

“Why did you come?” You questioned after a moment, turning to really look him in the eyes this time. Akaashi had such a soft demeanour about him tonight, a gentleness that you hardly ever saw when he and Bokuto were getting up to their usual mischief. But he was always kind and sweet to you, always took a moment of his day to tuck your hair behind your ear, or pluck a piece of fluff off your shoulder. Always put his plans on pause to ask you about your day, texted you about life and school and plans for the future.

His future included nationals. Playing in front of crowds and cameras, screaming fans and loud cheers. His future included volleyball. But you always wondered if there was room for you in that future too.

Akaashi paused, watching your eyes and for a moment, you could’ve sworn he had looked at your lips, a flicker of something different crossing his eyes. “I needed to see you.”

He said it so casually. As if this was normal. As if it was normal for a guy to crawl into a girl’s bedroom and lay in her bed like they were already married.

“I see you practically every day when we’re at school,” you pointed out, brushing a piece of hair from his eyes and trying to determine what he was really thinking because lord knows you could never tell.

Akaashi just stared some more at you, eyes slowly blinking from exhaustion. “I’ll be busy the next few weeks. With volleyball. And I know you’ve got plans for the summer too. I just... wanted to see you before I got all busy. I wanted to just be here with you and pretend like i could come back here.”

“You could,” you added quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, because then he looked at you with surprise. “I like it when you come by,” you admitted to him quietly, sitting up slightly in your bed. “I’m going to miss you while you’re all busy this summer.”

“I can make time,” Akaashi said hurriedly, his teeth tugging on his lips as he sat up with you. “For you. I can make time.”

You look at him with a smile, his thumb grazing over your hand again as he interlaced your fingers together once more. The two of you sat there, both wanting to ask the hovering question that sat buried in your throats.

What are we?

We’re friends, you’d always insist to your friends.

But friends don’t come crawling into your room at the middle of the night to hold you and hold your hand.

We’re just friends, Akaashi had told the team before with flushed cheeks.

But no friend of Akaashi’s had ever made him so nervous, Bokuto pointed out. And friends don’t stare at each other across the room the way you two do.

What are we?

“You should go,” you pointed out as you felt the tensions rising, glancing at the clock. It was almost 3:30AM now. Maybe it was sleep exhaustion or maybe you were just tired of never knowing what you were to Akaashi, but you knew if you didn’t get him out of your room now, you might end up spilling your guts to him.

Had she felt me try to get the courage to confess? Akaashi wondered as he gathered his things, moving to leave from the window again. But not before he wrapped you up into another hug, pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Do friends give forehead kisses?

“I’ll miss you,” he stated as he started to climb out the window.

“It’s not like you’re going across the world,” you teased with an awkward sort of laugh. “I’ll come see you guys maybe. When you’re not too busy.”

It could’ve been your imagination, but he seemed to lighten up at this idea. He nodded and pulled his backpack off for a moment to pull a hoodie from it. “To keep you warm when I’m not around,” he told you as he handed it to you. So casual. Like this was just something friends do.

“T-Thanks,” you tried to hide your smile, tried to hide the fact that you wanted to squeal out like a little girl. You held onto the hoodie as he gave you another little wave and crawled out of your house. You held it tighter as he landed on the ground, looking up at you and smiling at you like you were his romantic interest.

Do friends look at each other like that?

When he disappeared from view, you held the hoodie to your chest, smiling as you smelt his cologne or body wash or whatever the hell it was that made Akaashi smell like Akaashi. You crawled back into bed after closing your window tightly and turning off the lights, still gripping onto the hoodie he had left with you.

Do friends miss each other almost immediately after they’re gone? A few days later and there was Akaashi crawling through your window again. You heard the knock on the glass and found him with a tired smile on his face.

“Are you just going to keep visiting me in the middle of the night?” You asked with a giggle, watching him flop into your bed and open his arms asking you to join him.

“I have to look at sweaty annoying boys all day. What’s wrong with seeing a pretty girl every now and then?” He asked as you crawled in. Do friends say things like that to each other?

“Aw it can’t be all that bad,” you insisted, avoiding his eyes as you tried to wave off the compliment. “Bokuto is rather nice to look at.”

Akaashi huffed a bit, tickling your sides briefly until you reminded him in a harsh whisper that your parents were asleep. “Stop thinking about another boy while I’m here with you,” he stuck his tongue out at you playfully.

“Sorry I’ll stick to thinking about them when you’re not around,” you teased, making him poke at your side some more.

Did friends get jealous that easily?

“Why did you come?” You asked him after a while, tracing soft lines with your finger tips down his cheek and jawline, as if carefully measuring out a masterpiece because that’s exactly what he was. “Is the training camp really that bad?”

“Nah it’s alright. It’s fun getting to play with some new teams. Bokuto gets all excited about showing off his skills,” Akaashi responded softly, his eyes closing slowly as the two of you spoke.

“Aren’t you sore? From all your games?”

“Extremely. I’m not going to feel my legs tomorrow that’s for sure.”

“You shouldn’t have walked all this way then, idiot. You’re going to tire out your legs even more.”

“It’s worth it if I get to see you,” his voice was so quiet you weren’t even sure he actually said it. You looked up at him and found his eyes open again, watching you as if gauging your reaction.

Did friends make you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest? Do friends walk all the way to your house in the middle of the night after exercising all day?

What are we?

You wanted to ask, the words forming at your lips. The question was begging to be answered, pleading at your vocal cords to produce some sort of sound.

But what if you were reading into things?

What if friends really do all the things you wondered about? What if you weren’t exactly friends but weren’t anything more either? What if Akaashi saw you as a placeholder. A warm body to be everything a girlfriend could be until he found someone actually worthy.

What if you really were just friends?

Akaashi left a few moments later, groaning softly as he stretched and giving you another exhausted smile as he insisted he’d be back some other time. He traded sweaters with you, pulling out a brand new one for you from his bag and taking the one he had left earlier.

“I’m okay with this one Akaashi, why are you giving me another?” You asked confusedly.

He shrugged and you could’ve sworn there was a blush on his cheeks, “Just cause.”

He wrapped you up in a hug, pressed another kiss to your forehead and slipped out the window. Then spent the whole walk back shaking his head at himself for not saying what he wanted to say.

“Because I like how my clothes smell like you after you wear them,” he spoke aloud into the quiet night. “Because I wanted a part of me to always be with you. Because I don’t want you thinking about Bokuto, I want you thinking about me. Because I wanted to walk all this way to tell you how I felt and I chickened out again.”

The reasons piled into his head and he angrily kicked at some rocks as he walked. Why was it so much easier to think of why when he walked away?

“Because I want to know what we are,” he whispered to himself, stopping his footsteps and staring at the sky for a moment before walking further from you.

More days passed and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when you didn’t hear from Akaashi as much. He was busy. You were busy. Everyone was busy, you told yourself. It’s not like he forgot about you. Or that he decided to ghost you.

It’s not like he found someone else. It was a volleyball training camp, who could he have found?

You wanted to tell yourself that there wasn’t anyone else and even if there was, it’s not like you had a claim to him anyway. You and Akaashi were just friends.

But you still waited for him every night, looking out the window in hopes he’d come.

Finally you heard a little tap at your window, and there was Akaashi with another tired grin. He seemed like he was glowing more than usual. He seemed bigger, more toned under his jacket.

“I missed you,” you told him shyly and the two of you curled back under the sheets together again.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, pressing his lips briefly against your forehead. “I got all caught up in training and even after the day is gone, everyone still wants to practice. Even that blond boy from Karasuno seems like he’s getting into it.”

You smiled and nodded, thinking about the few texts that Akaashi seemed to get out to you when he wasn’t so busy, “I’m sure everyone’s training hard for Nationals.”

Akaashi nodded and smiled, shifting so he was lying on his back and staring at your ceiling, “It’s getting really close. We got to be the best we can be.”

“You’re already really good. But I know you guys will win it all,” you beamed up at him excitedly. It was one of your favourite things, watching them play. And these National games always came with such excitement.

“Only if you’re there cheering us on,” Akaashi glanced at you, as if he had asked if you were coming and waiting for you to confirm.

“Of course,” you nodded up at him. “I wanna watch my boys beat everyone! Wipe the floor with them!”

Akaashi smirked and held onto you a little tighter, fingers dancing along your skin gently.

Did friends send tingles up your spine when they touched you? Because you hadn’t noticed it with anyone else but him.

“I can’t stay long tonight, love,” he whispered to you softly after an hour of whispered conversations passed. “I told Bokuto I’d wake up early with him and get some more practice.”

You nodded understandingly, though your heart felt a little as he started to move, “After your camp, maybe we can start doing all those summer things you wanted to do. When you’re not practicing of course.”

Akaashi chuckled and nodded, “Sure. Ice cream, find a beach, go swimming, whoop your ass in a water balloon fight,” he listed off.

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder back as you insisted that he was definitely going to lose a water balloon fight.

His hands grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into another hug. This time a bit tighter, like he was scared you were fading away, “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he murmured to you, pulling away slightly to look down at you. “But I promise I’ll come see you soon.”

Why did everything he say always seemed like something a boyfriend would say? Do friends say things like that?

“I know you’re busy, Akaashi, don’t worry,” you told him with a small shrug, staring at your hands nervously.

“Y/N...”

There was something in his tone... something so foreign. You looked up at him and saw nervousness in his eyes, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands.

“Yea?”

Akaashi cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes glancing between yours and your hands.

“I- We...” he started.

What are we?

Three words.

Or maybe he should ask what you wanted you two to be?

Is that too much? Is that too pushy?

What if you didn’t think there needed to be anything more to this relationship? What if he was overthinking it? What if this was just for fun and you really were into Bokuto?

“Are you okay, Akaashi?” You asked after a moment of him stuttering.

“Yeah... we’ll do all those things and more,” he finally managed out, his eyes avoiding yours more now. “Promise.”

You nodded slowly, wishing he would keep holding your hand as you two moved away from each other. He traded sweaters with you again, pressed another kiss to your forehead, and disappeared into the night.

You spent the night wondering what he had started saying. Why was he so nervous tonight? What was it about tonight that made him so awkward? You hadn’t seen Akaashi nervous in a lot of situations. He was always so calm, but not tonight for some reason. Could it be that he was nervous… just like you were? Could it actually be that you two were something other than just friends?

It was the last day of the summer training camp and the smell of cooking meat made Akaashi’s mouth water. He looked around him, carefully calculating exactly what kind of meats he wanted to grab off of the barbecues. He and Komi chatted with Tsukishima briefly about their baby Ace’s tantrums, Akaashi smirking to himself as he watched his idiotic best friend going around with Hinata, drooling over the lunch.

“When Bokuto told me to swing by for lunch, this isn’t quite what I expected.”

There was a little lurch in Akaashi’s chest, hearing that voice. He swung around to see you standing there, Suzumeda giving you a little wave after she had shown you to where the team was. “Glad you could swing by! It’s not every day we get to hang out with Akaashi’s friend,” she snickered, a teasing tone in the way she said friend.

You and Akaashi both just looked at her funny before turning back to each other, a smile on your face, “Did you miss me?”

Akaashi just gave you a little smirk, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you into a hug, “Obviously.” He smiled down at you. “Sorry, did you say Bokuto told you to come?” He asked suddenly, looking around to find a wide smiled owl looking Bokuto behind him.

“I just thought that you’d actually smile a bit if she came by!” Bokuto insisted with a laugh, hands on his hips all proud-like. “Good to see you, Y/N! Must be nice to come by and hang out with Akaashi huh?”

You smiled up at him and moved to pat his head affectionately, “Of course! But I like coming to see you too, Bokuto,” you teased.

Bokuto’s smirk seemed different this time as he gave Akaashi a wink, “Sure but there’s nothing wrong with being here solely for Akaashi so you two have some time together,” he grinn, poking your nose playfully.

Before you could ask him what he meant, questioning his word choices and teasing sort of tone, Bokuto got called across the field, eagerly grabbing a plate with the food.

“Are you hungry?” Akaashi asked, nodding towards the gloriously smelling food. You nodded but stayed at his side, finding the massive groups of boys a little daunting. “I’ll get you something then, you can stay around here.”

“Thank you,” you squeezed his arm gently and he just gave you one of those kind soft smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

“Come on! She’s super sweet, you’ll love her!” Suzumeda was saying, dragging a bunch of girls in your direction. You blinked in surprise, Shirofuku giving you a wave as she also made her way over.

“How you doing, Y/N?” Shirofuku wrapped her arms around you excitedly, squeezing you into a hug. “You should’ve come with us! You could’ve been a big help keeping these boys in line.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I’m not quite sure I could do what you guys do,” you insisted shyly, smiling at the other girls who were smiling at you. “Hiya! I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered to the new faces.

Soon, you met all the managers from the other schools and it didn’t take long for you all to be laughing and joking about the various attitudes and characters your teams all had.

“Aren’t you hungry, Y/N?” Kiyoko asked suddenly, noting the lack of food in your hand. “We have lots, and I’m sure some of these boys don’t need to have 7 helpings!”

You nodded and glanced behind your shoulder, finding Akaashi yelling at Bokuto for trying to steal all the meat. “Akaashi already said he’d grab me a plate. Figure it’s better than me getting lost in that group,” you pointed out and turned your eyes back to the girls.

They were all sharing grins with each other, Suzumeda giggling, “Aren’t they adorable?”

You blinked in surprise as they laughed some more, tilting your head, “Who?”

“You!” Ōtaki laughed. “I don’t know Akaashi much but Shirofuku and Suzumeda told me you two really bring the best out of each other.”

You paused a bit more and the Fukurodani girls noted your hesitation, “Sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?” Shirofuku asked with wide eyes. “Leave it to Bokuto to go spilling everyone’s secrets!”

Your eyebrows furrowed more as you glanced between the girls, “I’m so confused. What secret?”

“That you and Akaashi were dating! We heard he snuck away between days here at the summer camp to go see you and that he finally confessed!” Suzumeda explained, her smile getting more and more stiff as you seemed more and more confused.

“Akaashi and I are just friends,” you insisted nervously, heart pounding against your chest. “W-Why would Bokuto tell people that?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, we didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that! I thought it was pretty obvious you two liked each other,” Kiyoko admitted, the rest of the girls apologizing profusely. You shook your hands in front of each other, insisting that it wasn’t their fault that Bokuto was being dumb again, your face heating up from embarrassment.

You wondered just how many other people Bokuto had been whispering this news to, but it didn’t take long for you to find out. You excused yourself from the girls, saying you were going to find Akaashi and your food, but really just feeling way too embarrassed to look them in the eye.

You met with a few Karasuno third years, Daichi grinning as he told you that Akaashi had mentioned you before and said nothing but good things.

“It’s really great to finally meet you!” Sugawara had chimed in. “Bokuto told us about your new relationship so congratulations! I have to say, Akaashi seems like he’s smiling more that you’re around.”

You quickly insisted to them as well that you and Akaashi were in fact not dating and that you weren’t quite sure why Bokuto had gone round telling otherwise. The third years apologized on their behalf, sheepishly walking back to their team as you excused yourself yet again.

Even some of the Furkurodani boys grinned at you and gave you a thumbs up, thanking you for making Akaashi smile every now and then. As much as you wanted to take credit for those smiles, you weren’t quite sure how to awkwardly tell them that you and their setter were just. friends.

Did Bokuto not realize that you and Akaashi were just friends? Why was he torturing you like this? It’s not like he didn’t know you were constantly staring at his best friend. You wanted to slip away, hide in a corner, because now it felt like everyone was looking at you differently. You were no longer just a friend of the Fukurodani boys, now you were Akaashi’s girlfriend. You wanted that title more than anything, but not like this. And what would he say when he found out? He’d probably kill Bokuto for insinuating that the two of you were dating because you two were just friends. Just. Friends. And nothing more.

You finally managed to find Akaashi, who was giving a weird look to some of the Karasuno boys, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “-who told you that?” He asked, a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

“Bokuto!” A small redhead grinned widely, catching your eye and his eyes widening, “Your boyfriend is so cool!” He yelled at you before stuffing his face with more food.

Akaashi whirled around to see you, both of you sharing a look of what the hell is going on? “I’m going to kill him,” he huffed as he walked over to you, handing you a plate of food. “I’m sorry I took so long but I piled enough on there for the two of us. But… everyone keeps asking me… questions.”

“About… us?” You asked slowly and he just shifted in his stance, nodding slowly. “Me too. Bokuto seems to have a big mouth for things that don’t exist.”

Don’t exist, the words rang in Akaashi’s head as he tried to remind himself that as much as he wanted, you two weren’t dating. He wasn’t sure why Bokuto had it in his mind that you were, or that he could go telling literally everyone around, but he would kill him first and ask questions later.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto yelled, as if he felt you two thinking about him and magically appeared behind you two. “How’s the happy couple!?”

“Bokuto, what did you do?” You groaned, not at all hungry anymore even though the food on the plate still smelled incredible.

“Do?” He asked, tilting his head as Akaashi groaned. “Why do you two look so stressed? It’s a BBQ!”

“Bokuto, you idiot. Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Akaashi asked him, flicking his upperclassman in the head. “What did you do?”

“Aren’t you?” Bokuto asked with a furrowed brow, looking between you two. “I thought all those nights Akaashi snuck away, I thought he finally got up the courage to tell you how he feels,” he told you, an oblivious and concerned look in his eyes. “Did he not tell you?”

“N-No,” you managed to get out, your face feeling hot again. What would it take to just forget all of this happened? To forget that Bokuto just insinuated that Akaashi has feelings for you? It had to be a lie right? Akaashi was going to insist that he didn’t have feelings for you and that you two were just friends. You didn’t want to hear it - you’d give anything to just slip away and forget this whole day ever happened.

“Bokuto, I hadn’t told her yet,” Akaashi sighed instead, shaking his head.

“You chickened out again?” Bokuto gaped, patting his friend’s shoulder in comfort. “It’s okay, I’m sure it’ll go great when you finally tell her!” He insisted, as if you weren’t standing right there.

“Tell me what?” You asked quietly, watching Akaashi’s somewhat strained expression. Why did he seem so nervous? What did Bokuto mean when he said Akaashi chickened out again? You didn’t want to believe that all of this meant what you thought it meant because getting your hopes up was terrifying. But you stared at him anyways, waiting for someone to explain to you like you were a child.

Bokuto just grinned, looking between you two as if watching a film and waiting for the ending. “Go on, tell her!” Bokuto insisted to his friend, nudging him towards you.

Akaashi had a flush on his cheeks and he was starting to avoid your eyes. His weight shifted back and forth on his feet as he played with his fingers, sighing quietly, “I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone, Y/N,” he admitted softly.

Your heart was pounding in your ears. This couldn’t be happening now, could it? You were just friends, you were just friends, you were just friends. The words had been repeating in your head ever since Akaashi had first snuck into your room. You two were only friends - there was nothing more. You had to believe that. Because if there was something more, it meant leaving your heart open to be broken. What if he only liked you because you were available? What if he didn’t really see anything in you? What if he moved away after high school and the two of you drifted apart? Losing a friend hurts, but if you two took the next step and then you lost your friend and a lover? It would be devastating.

“Stop overthinking,” Akaashi stated after a moment, his eyes finally catching yours and seeing that telltale sign that you were spiraling mentally. He took the plate from your hands, setting it on a nearby table so you weren’t holding it for forever. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. I wanted to tell you that night before the summer camp. And every other time that I came to see you. I’ve been wanting to tell you since that day we spent at the park and you kept picking flowers for me. You don’t make me feel like I need to be anything more than me.” Akaashi swallowed hard as he watched your eyes, feeling a little light headed as the words spilled from his lips. “I know we’re friends. But I don’t want to be just friends anymore, Y/N…”

“You don’t?” You asked softly, biting down on your inner cheek nervously. Was this really happening? Your hands were trembling at your sides, looking up at Akaashi like everyone else had disappeared (though you could still feel Bokuto squirming and squealing beside you, watching the interaction).

Akaashi just gave you that same smile he always did, taking one of your hands and giving it a squeeze, “I’m tired of always telling people that we’re just friends. I don’t want just any friend in my sweaters and I don’t go climbing into people’s rooms in the middle of the night just because they’re a friend.”

“You did what?” Bokuto gasped, eyes widening but immediately shushing when Akaashi sent him a little glare for interrupting.

Akaashi took another breath and just shook his head slightly, “I want us to be more than friends, Y/N. So maybe if you’re okay with it, we can start telling people that Bokuto isn’t a liar and that… you are my girlfriend?”

You looked around the space, expecting the sky to be falling or some imaginary creature to randomly show up. Because this had to be a dream right?

“You’re not dreaming, dummy,” Akaashi laughed, seeing the panic in your eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. But I needed this off my chest,” he explained, starting to let go of your hand. You watched as a flash of disappointment crossed his eyes before you grabbed his hand again, squeezing.

“Of course I want to,” you breathed out shakily. “I just… always thought you wanted to be just friends. But I’ve always wanted something more with you.”

Akaashi’s face broke out into the biggest grin you’d ever seen before, pulling you into a tighter hug than he’s ever given you before, actually forcing a breath from your lungs.

“Don’t kill her before your first date!” Bokuto screeched, trying to pry Akaashi’s arms from around you. “God, that took you guys forever! I gotta go tell everyone that I’m not a liar now!” Bokuto beamed, rushing away from the new couple to shout it from the top of his lungs that his best friend finally had a girlfriend.

Akaashi laughed a bit and shook his head, watching his idiotic friend bounce around. “You should eat,” he pointed out after your hug was interrupted by the sound of your stomach growling.

You nodded and smiled up at him, “Only if you eat with me.”

“Of course. Can’t leave my girlfriend to eat on her own now, can I?” He teased, a smile on his face as he realized how easy and natural it seemed to call you that. The two of you walked around before finding a spot to eat, mingling with those around you.

You watched as Akaashi talked to people, so calm and almost unaffected by everything that just happened. But then he’d look at you with a smile, open his mouth for you to feed him and take your hand in his, and you felt like you were falling for him all over again. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself later thinking about how many people you were going to have to hear “I KNEW IT” from. Because maybe you and Akaashi were just a little bit more than friends.

Okay fine, a lot more.

haikyuu taglist:

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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chokemeanakin · 3 years

Text

Sick naps

Anakin Skywalker x Reader whump + fluff

I would like to formally apologize for being a whump whore, it’s all I’m in the mood for lately idk. someone needs to give me the flu so I can stop hyperfixating on it like fckn weirdo. anyway. enjoy.

(oh ya this lil fic was heavily inspired by this photo, I just wanna ram my face into this man’s tiddys so hard. I bet they’re so warm. Sheesh.)

Wc: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

You were sitting next to Anakin as he went over battle plans in a temple room; he was sitting with one ankle crossed over his knee, arms folded over his chest, robe drifting off his shoulders like a prince’s cape. His mouth was set in a little focused pout and his eyebrows were all drawn as he took in the swirling blue projections.

You thought you would just sit next to him for a while and keep him company, but he was taking longer than you expected and you were growing very tired.

He noticed you were slumping onto his shoulder a while ago, blinking slow with exhaustion. You had mentioned before that you were tired, and he liked the soft pressure of your head on his shoulder, so he let you rest there. Before long, the warmth of his shoulder pressing into your cheek and the steady rise and fall of his breathing rocked you fast asleep. He glanced over and saw your eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, and hands limp in your lap.

His face softened. It couldn’t be comfortable how you’re sleeping and he didn’t want your neck to hurt when you woke up. So he carefully maneuvered you onto his lap, hushing your small grumbles as you woke up little bit, realizing what he was doing.

His chest was a whole lot warmer than his shoulder though, and you melted into his body, protected from the chill of the room by his big arms.

He brought the edges of his robe up around you, cocooning you against his chest with your legs straddling his hips. Your hands wound themselves around his waist, hugging him close as you drifted back off to sleep.

Anakin knew it was past the usual time you went to sleep, but he still had some more work to do before he could take you back to your room. So he gently rested his chin on your shoulder and continued going over battle strategies, sacrificing one arm to type in some tweaks to the new starfighter blueprints.

It was nice like this, cuddled up in his arms, his body heat staving off the occasional chills that racked your body. His metal arm absentmindedly smoothed up and down the expanse of your back, softened by his leather glove. The security of his arms around you, his scent, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek had put you in a coma-like slumber.

But soon the cold spread, grew deeper, and it was as if your bones themselves were frozen. Not even the desert boy’s body heat could thaw you out. He noticed your trembling right away, and how you brought your hands up under your chin to conserve heat. They grasped at the material covering his chest, as if urging him even closer.

Against your wishes, he pulled back a few inches to glance at your face. It was no longer peaceful— instead there was a crease between your brows and your mouth was set in a firm pout. Quick, shuttering breaths left your parted lips, and your cheeks were flushed pink.

He brought the hand up that he was using to type, brushing the back of it against your forehead. Warm. His fingers trailed down the side of your face with the softness of a feather, using the pad of his thumb to brush your hair off your cheek and feel the heat of your blush underneath.

Definitely a fever.

How had he not noticed? You were unusually sluggish today, but wrote it off due to the rainy weather. Still, you had barely touched your dinner and complained of being cold long before the sun had set. Now, he felt awful for letting you stay up with him so late when you clearly weren’t feeling well.

Sighing inwardly, Anakin closed and locked the holo-projector. With the low hum of the machinery gone, he could clearly hear the little whimpers leaving your lips every so often. His heart ached at the sound, face morphing into one of concern and deep resentment for his neglectfulness.

Carefully, without waking you this time, he slid one arm under your thighs so that he could lift you up, keeping you secure to his chest with his other arm around your back. Instinctually, your arms wound themselves around his neck. He stood, hand rubbing soothing circles into the space between your shoulder blades as your shivers grew violent with the loss of his robe around you.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” he hushed. “You’ll be in bed soon sweetheart, just hold on.”

With a flick of his wrist, the lights in the room powered off and he strode through the sliding doors, not bothering to check if anyone was roaming the halls this late at night. The walk to his room was brisk, the breeze of him walking sliding past your back, but he got there quick and set you down in a nest of blankets and pillows right away.

You sighed in content and rolled over to bury yourself deeper into his sheets, but he stopped you with a hand to the shoulder.

“Not yet baby, I need to take your temperature.”

He was gone for a moment and back in the next, urging your mouth open with a thumb on your lip, and subsequently your eyes too. You blinked at his adorable frown through bleary vision, holding the metal stick under your tongue before he took it out. His frown deepened at the number.

“Right, well it looks like you won’t be leaving this bed anytime soon.”

You groaned, throwing your head into the nearest pillow.

“S’not that bad,” your muffled voice argued, though your aching body said otherwise. Mostly you just didn’t want him to worry.

He chose to ignore you, instead putting the thermometer away and returning again with some medicine and a glass of water. He helped you sit up and take it, holding your back with his gloved hand and tipping the rim of the cup between your lips with his other. The seriousness on his face as he watched you swallow the pills had you thinking this was life or death, rather than a simple little cold.

“Sleep now,” he urged, tone softened as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Copy that, General,” you replied sluggishly, already lowering yourself back into the pillows. As an afterthought, you smooshed yourself right up against the leg that was resting on the bed, snaking your arms around his waist in hopes that he would take the hint.

He hesitated for a moment, knowing it would be better to let you rest up on your own while he got his affairs in order for tomorrow. But seeing your sweetly flushed face, hands reaching out for him, fingers grasping the material of his tabards— he couldn’t resist you.

Carefully, he kicked off his boots and swung his other leg over the side of the bed, fitting an arm around your shoulders and moving you onto his chest. With the drugs in your system making you sleepy and Anakin’s protective arms around you, it wasn’t long before you were limp and dreaming.

#anakin Skywalker x gn reader #Anakin fluff #Anakin whump #reader whump #Anakin Skywalker x Gn reader fic #Anakin Skywalker x reader fluff #Anakin Skywalker x reader whump #Anakin Skywalker x sick reader #sick reader #fluffy Anakin #soft Anakin #Anakin Skywalker #anakin whump

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

On Tap

Sherlock insists that it would work better with the reader on top and after the night they’ve had, there’s no point in arguing. Or, the one where reader plays superhero for poor Greg and her beloved detective. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You hadn’t even taken your shoes off when your phone started ringing in your purse. Sighing, you dug around for it with one hand and reached for the lightswitch with the other. Work had been incredibly stressful since you were working short during flu season and everyone in London had been feeling under the weather apparently. You had told your coworkers that if they really needed you that you would come back even though you had put a solid 16 hours in. Sherlock and John had gone out for John’s bachelor party so you didn’t mind working late, and Bucky was visiting his brother in the States so all your time was truly yours. You had thought about soaking in the bath or catching up on that show you always missed, but all of those thoughts were stopped in their tracks when the ringing persisted.

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound like you’d rather chew on glass than clock one more minute into the hospital but you weren’t sure you were so convincing.

“Come get him. Please, for the love of God, come get him.” At hearing Greg’s voice, you were both relieved yet confused. Sherlock must’ve invited him last minute to celebrate with them, you didn’t remember him saying that he was coming along.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went out with the boys! Where are you guys?” It was nice to know they were all having a good time. You liked Greg and thought he was a really good friend for Sherlock and John. You had plopped down on the couch and had started pulling one of your shoes off when he said, “No, I didn’t go with them. They were brought to me. Someone called the cops on them and now I’ve got tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum arguing about the solar system and taking turns puking in my waste bin. Please, I beg of you, come get him. Matter of fact, I can bring him home. If that makes the process quicker--- I mean easier.” You heard Sherlock trying to take Greg’s phone in the background, asking to talk to you and then quickly after arguing with John once more if it was really that important he knew they orbited the sun. Greg sounded just as exhausted as you felt and you could only imagine how annoyed he was by the drunk detective that he was already annoyed with most of the time sober.

“Yeah, yeah of course I’ll come get him. I’m actually at my flat though, so if you could meet me at his place that would be awesome. I’d just need a few minutes to finish up here...” You mourned the hot bath you were never going to get to take and worked on shoving the shoe you just took off back on, “did you call Mary for John?”

“Yes, she’ll be over soon. As soon as she gets here, I’ll bring Sherlock. You’re doing the Lord’s work, thank you.” With that, he hung up and you went to your room to pack an overnight bag. You were exhausted and if you had to go all the way to Sherlock’s, it would be easier for you to crash on the couch than to try to come back home late.

By the time you got to Sherlock’s, you were dragging your feet up the stairs and you could barely keep your eyes open. You had received a text from Mary when she picked John up saying “good luck” and you wished you knew what you were walking into. You had never seen Sherlock drunk, or heard any stories of him being drunk, but you were sure he was even more eccentric than he was sober. If you weren’t so tired, you’d be jumping with joy at the experience to see Sherlock so out of character.

You went into Sherlock’s room and laid out some pajamas for him and went ahead and put a water bottle and some Advil on his nightstand because you were sure he would need it. After doing that, you changed into something more comfortable too and rummaged through his fridge to see if there was anything to eat. Thumbs, unsalted butter, and milk that shouldn’t look like blue cheese was what was on the menu and you had decided sleep for dinner sounded much more appetizing. You’d go shopping for him tomorrow.

Greg had texted that he was outside but Sherlock didn’t have his key so you made your way down the steps to meet them. Upon opening the door, Sherlock looked up at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. He stumbled towards you and held you at arms length with a look of wonder on his face. “Finally! Y/N, I was thinking I’d die from being surrounded by total stupidity, and here you are. Ever the shining light and the beacon of hope.”

You felt the heat from his stare and turned to Greg to try and keep your composure under all his attention. “Uh.. I— thank you. For bringing him home.”

Still staring at Sherlock and shocked by his outburst, Greg met your eyes with a knowing smile. “It’s no trouble. He’s your problem now. Good luck, my dear.” He was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you with a very drunk Sherlock Holmes and a dozen steps to climb.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, turning towards the door, “do you think you can get up the stairs? Or do you want me to help you?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started until his eyes widened like he forgot who he had been talking to. It had only been a second but he saw the look that flashed across your face. You hated when he made you feel dumb because you always tried so hard to keep up with him, and he knew that. You didn’t have a chance to react before he quickly interrupted. His previous statement was immediately followed by, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please help me.”

You just nodded, unsure of what made him have such a quick change of heart but you were happy he did. You hated him thinking you were dumb. In comparison to him, maybe, but you were intelligent in your own right and you did a better job of keeping up with him than most. He threw his arm around your shoulders to steady himself and allowed you to lead him carefully up the stairs. He started telling you about his night and it honestly sounded like he had a great time, and so did John. You were really happy that it all worked out even if they did end up with Greg at the end of it all.

As soon as the back of Sherlock’s legs hit his chair, he was down in a clean swoop and you took the opportunity to start untying his shoes. He seemed like he was lost in thought and was quiet for a few moments but you could tell from the way he was swaying that he was too far gone to sober up before the morning.

“I already put your clothes out for you and I’ll help you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’ll love me for that in the morning.” You smiled at him as you pulled off his loafers and moved to stand up so that you could figure out how you were going to get him out of his chair.

“Will I, though? Will I tomorrow once I’m in my right mind?” He asked, and while he didn’t say it in an ignorant tone, it sounded like Sherlock, and that was close enough.

You looked at him hoping he’d say something else. But he didn’t, and he looked back at you with a look of confusion as if he was really expecting you to answer that. It seemed like just last week he was in your bed trying to convince you that he didn’t have eyes for anyone besides you and now he’s reminding you that he’s not even sure of that. Sherlock could have you at the top of the poll and then have you kissing the ground in the same hour if he tried.

“It’s just a saying. I didn’t really mean...you know, let’s— let’s just get you to bed. It’s late and you have a date with a hangover in the morning.” You could tell he was on the verge of passing out which was good in the way of no more awkward conversations but horrible in that you’d never get him into bed as dead weight. So you pushed things along and eventually got him in bed before he was out like a light.

Draping the blanket over him, you watched as his eyes fluttered behind his lids and how his lips twitched as fell into a deeper sleep and you were sure then that you would never love anyone more. You would never understand how he didn’t realize how beautiful he made the ordinary and how easily he made everything extraordinary. Afraid that you’d turn to stone if you spent any more time staring at him, you turned off his light and made your way to the living room where the the couch had never looked more inviting. It didn’t take you long to get settled in and asleep seeing as the TV in the background ended up being the perfect thing to mask Sherlock’s drunk snores and you had never been more tired in your life.

—

“I thought you were staying over?”

It had only been a few hours since you had put Sherlock to bed when he found himself looking over you on the couch, wrapped up in his bedsheet.

“M’right here.” You murmured into the pillow, body still turned away from Sherlock on the couch. He was probably still drunk and you were hoping if you laid still enough he’d wander back to bed.

He didn’t respond to you, instead he continued to stand and stare with his lips pursed and brows furrowed. You had drifted back off only to be nudged awake once more.

“I won’t fit like that.” He gestured with the hand not holding the sheet to the couch, sounding exasperated like he had been explaining this to you all night. “It’ll only work if you’re on top, so get up so I can lie down first.”

You didn’t process what he said really, you just knew that if he was being persistent and you didn’t do as he asked he’d never let you go back to bed. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light and swung your legs off the couch, standing on stiff bones. Sherlock immediately made to get comfortable on the couch while you stood dazed and confused and he cleared his throat expectantly when he had finally got settled. He was on his back with one arm holding the sheet up between himself and the back of the couch allowing room for you to climb over and snuggle right into him.

All you could do was blink and hold his stare as he waited expectantly, still holding the sheet for you. You didn’t think he was asking you to lay with him, especially with how close you’d two be. Sure, you shared your bed before, but there was always enough room for you both to have your own space. You could tell he was getting embarrassed by your reaction, or lack there of.

“I didn’t think this would be rocket science, even for someone like you.” His nervousness was showing as he yanked his arm back down and curled into to himself like a child. You jumped into action so you wouldn’t upset him any more and shook his shoulder as you whined, partially from exhaustion and from missing the chance to sleep next to him.

“I’m tired, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize what you were asking. Come on, open up. Let me in.” You continued to shake at his shoulder until he looked back at you. He looked wrecked from drinking all night and you knew this bout of sobriety wouldn’t be as easy on him in the morning but you were sure he looked holy.

Sherlock reluctantly brought his arm up again and you wasted no time sliding under the sheet and tucking yourself under the crook of his arm. He smelled like beer and mouthwash and Sherlock and you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest when he brought his arm back down on you, subsequently pinning you down to him. It was definitely a tight fit especially since the couch barely fit Sherlock but you had decided that if you had the opportunity to sleep with him like this every night that you would. Back pain be damned.

The steadiness of his heartbeat was already working you back to sleep. Sighing content, you let your body fully relax and sink further into him.

“You never answered my question.” He shifted next to you and kept you close to him all the same, his head leaning to rest on yours.

“Hmm?” You made an incoherent sound, your breath evening out as you fell asleep.

“My question,” he whispered more so to himself as he worked it out in his head. The feelings he found himself harboring for you were ones he had never felt before. He thought so highly of you in a way he couldn’t understand even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it. You were patient with him when he got on your last nerve and was amazed by him when other people would tell him to piss off. You were always kind and warm and made him feel human even after he spent so long separating himself from his feelings. He couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at anyone else the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

So yes, he thought. Yes, he would love you in the morning. He’d love you when you’re angry with him for putting himself at risk during a case and he’d love you when you were overly tired and petulant after he made you stay up all night to keep him company in the lab. He loved that you valued him regardless of what he offered you, and that you always showed him that even if he never reciprocated it. You were never embarrassed by him, you always tried to learn about what he was interested in, and you never doubted him even when he was wrong.

Girlfriends weren’t naturally his area... but he didn’t think he would mind if it was you. He liked being close to you and physical touch wasn’t something he had sought out often before. He found that he chased the opportunity to be near you at all times. He thought you looked lovely in scrubs and a lab coat and even lovelier in your everyday wear, even if you considered it plain. He had begun to notice the way other people stared at you when you walked by and it left him with the most unsettling feeling. But then you’d smile at him and despite himself he’d smile right back and he wondered if anything in the world mattered to you besides him. Because in those moments, nothing mattered to him besides you.

Sherlock woke up alone again the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever had. Light was shining through the curtains and he cursed the sun for rising another day as he covered his eyes and groaned. Peaking through his fingers, he saw that the Advil and water had been moved to the coffee table for him and when he reached out for it he noticed the note on the table. He sat up with one hand gingerly holding his head as he read it.

“Got called into work to help the girls. John and Mary are coming over for lunch, so text me what you want me to bring home. We can’t serve our best friends buttered thumbs for lunch. I’ll see you soon!

-Y/N xx”

He held the note in his hand, contemplating what his next move would be. You were interested in him, that he knew for sure. He’d contemplated casually mentioning to everyone that you were dating, but he technically hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend and you two had never talked about any mutual feelings. Maybe he’d kiss you when walking you to your taxi, but he knew he’d make you stay with him instead of letting you go home. Possibly tonight when you were laying in his bed he’d tell you it had to be you, it could only ever be you.

Leaning back against the couch, he rubbed at his eyes and decided he’d call John over early and he’d help him sort it out. John always helped him. Standing up was harder than it looked apparently, as Sherlock wobbled to the side and fought the urge to puke. Perhaps he should shower first, surely you wouldn’t say yes to being his if he didn’t look his best.

He remembered how he looked and acted last night and winced. On second thought, maybe you would. You had already given yourself to him for better or for worse and soon enough, he smiled, he would give you himself in return.

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dankmyfarrik · 2 years

Text

The Faults Below Our Skys | Chapter 13: The Headline

Masterlist, #faults!inspo, Previous Chapter

Summary:

After accidentally winning the Dark Saber from Moff Gideon, Din begrudgingly finds himself the ruler of Mandalore. He has to do many things to appease the warring clans including marrying a beautiful bride.

Read it here:

(Personal Preferance)

Wattpad

Archive Of Our Own

Individual Chapter Warnings: Khalid is being creepy again, the word “whore” is used to refer to sex workers, other than that - the same as usual.

Word Count: 3k ish

Authors Notes: This “chapter” didn’t really fit in with the one before/ after so I decided to make stand alone. We will be back to the normal in the next one!

She woke up exhausted.

Celeste's head throbbed, mind fuzzy - she already wanted to go back asleep. But there was a ray of light directed straight in her eye from the window. With an annoyed groan, she turned her head on her pillow and froze.

Din.

He was passed out next to her, face also buried and missing his shirt. She must have hogged the blankets because they were all wrapped around herself. Celeste's head was too foggy, and it was too early to recall anything from last night. But by the distant taste of alcohol on her breath and the soreness in between her thighs… she was able to put two and two together.

Butterflies rolled into her stomach; the inclination made her unwillingly aware of every dip and muscle in his back, how he was able to move so fluidly, how he was able to move last night. Even if she couldn't quite remember everything just yet, those butterflies were quickly stomped away, however, with a sharp throbbing in her skull.

Hungover. Right.

The light must have been bothering him too because he stirred, eyes fluttering open, and she shut hers immediately. But just an instant, too late. Knowing she was caught, Celeste opened one eye to see his lopsided smirk.

Despite the blankets, her husband—Din—lazily flopped his arm across her and pushed her flush against him. He buried his scruff in her neck with a tired grumble.

"Mornin." She felt the heat of his breath pant against her neck.

He was so close, and she didn't have time to mentally prepare. Celeste involuntarily tensed—going completely rigid against him. Din noticed.

"Sorry I—"

He pulled from her, now more lucid from her strong reaction.

"No! It's fine," she cursed at herself, for now, making this more awkward than it needed to be, "I wasn't expecting that. It's nice."

He didn't sound like he fully believed her, but a knock on the door interrupted that thought process. A maid she did not recognize entered. With a long exhale, he quickly stuffed a pillow over his face to remain hidden.

The sight was rather amusing. Cute.

"My Mand'alor." Then she regarded Celeste with a nod.

"Cancel my morning meetings." His voice was muffled from the pillow. A brown puff of hair along the back of his neck stuck out from beneath the sheet. With a strange, fleeting pang in her chest, Celeste thumbed the disheveled strands back under the pillow: only she got to see him without the helmet.

The thought made something flare within her. Even if being so close to him so soon had startled her.

The feeling is superficial. Nothing more.

Even if he was kind to her, and his voice was like honey and chocolate that turned dark in the morning.

It wasn't more.

He deserved better from her.

"Sir," the woman's tone seemed amused, "you already missed your morning meetings. It's the afternoon."

He was silent at that, and Celeste tried not to smile, turning her face away from the conversation.

"Then cancel my afternoon meetings."

"I already did. But I imagine Lady Bo-Katan would like to speak with you. But…" she trailed off for a moment, "please. Take your time with Her Majesty."

Ah.

They were encouraging them to well… try for a baby again. They must have been a little obvious last night. Plus, Celeste was sure her hair was a scattered mess, and he was missing his shirt… and with a quick glance around the room, there were a few discarded bottles.

At least they aren't threatening Leo anymore.

—

The maid eventually left them to their own ministrations, leaving behind breakfast.

Bantha burgers.

It smelled revolting.

"The grease will help," he grumbled from underneath the pillow, apparently catching a whiff.

How did the kitchen staff know to make them that?

Din let his eyes roam across her for a moment as he adjusted to the light. The maid had very much insinuated she was ordered to cancel their plans for the day for them to have sex. He was contemplating whether or not he should try to bed her again.

"How much do you remember from last night?"

Celeste remembers feeling nice. Really nice.

"You told me your name."

"And?"

"I…I told you about Kledabe. You told me about your child… and then we."

She clamped her jaw shut, refusing to say more, and willed the red on her cheeks to go away. It didn't.

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her temple before leaving to the 'fresher.

Her head throbbed once more. She shouldn't have woken up this morning.

—-

She pushed open the doors to the meeting room.

Khalid.

Bo was near him, her hand was in a balled fist behind her back.

"They will be here by tomorrow?" The rest was lost in a hushed whisper.

They both stopped and turned, attention to Din and Celeste.

Khalid's face twisted from boredom to a smirk, something dark. Evil. He loomed closer, eyes piercing deep into her soul. He didn't blink; it was as if he could hear her every breath; his smile blinding white.

Khalid pat Din on the shoulder, causing him to stiffen, but his eyes stayed on Celeste. He tilted his head, breath along her neck and ear. A cold hand touched her bicep and squeezed. She felt his nails dig ever so slightly then scrape across her as he lifted his hand away.

He stepped back, and just like that, the suffocating presence was gone, the door closed behind him in his wake.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding so tightly, and Din's shoulders started to relax - albeit very slowly.

Bo and Din exchanged a glance she couldn't quite place. Celeste recognized it as fear but to the extent of why/how she could not determine.

Bo caught her curiosity and returned a warm smile. It's rare; she never freely gives away such emotions. Something is… off. But as soon as it began, the smile became a smirk. Similar, in a way, to Khalid's but mild. Genuine. Not fueled by resentment.

"Have fun last night?"

Oh no.

Celeste felt her cheeks turn a bright red—maybe her forehead and neck too.

"This was the most popular headline on the holo news this morning."

She tossed a holodisk on the table, and it lit up.

It was a photo of them… going at it…against that Maker damned window. Din stiffened behind her, and Celeste tried to bury her blush beneath her hands and failed. Bo just huffed another laugh.

"You two certainly know how to distract from warfare."

Celeste willed her eyes to stay closed, but she risked a glance once again. Nothing was actually visible from the picture due to the distance and her gown and his cape. Din's helmet rested sweetly in his hand, and his face was concealed perfectly in her neck, even his curls were covered by her hands straining through his hair. Din's creed was safe.

Honestly, it was a rather attractive picture of the two of them. They looked tender. Almost loving.

It also disproved the nasty palace roomers of how he treated her. Even if he had to play into those rumors when they tried to escape.

"Who did this?" Din sounded defensive, but the breathiness in his voice ruined any heat. He was just as embarrassed as her.

"You are famous and were… procreating… in a window that overlooked a city. What did you expect to happen?" Bo was still smiling as if she woke up on Life Day morning.

What were they thinking last night?!

But that's the thing—they weren't. They didn't expect anything like this to happen because of the drinking. And she remembered: their "attempt" wasn't actually an "attempt" for a baby. Again, because of the drinking. She knew she would not be able to continue such luxuries. They had been foolish, not thinking about Mandalore, and now she would have to go through that again. Not that anyone could tell from the photo that he had pulled from her.

The throbbing blur in her head cleared like a parted sea for just a moment before the waves came crashing back. She remembered the cold glass pressed against her burning skin as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The soft pants of his breath along her neck... Celeste's whimpers she desperately tried to muffle, knowing full well most of them weren't.

She really shouldn't have woken up this morning.

Bo continued, still cheery as ever, scanning the mass of holo's in front of her, "Your estimated popularity has improved by about 8% since last night," she thumbed through another stack, "that's almost as big as the spike we saw for your engagement! This will be very beneficial for any fallout you both may receive with assisting Keldabe."

Celeste finally dared eye contact, "So… you're not mad?"

Her warm smile was back and it took Celeste off-guard - breaking her defenses of trying (and failing) to keep a calm composure. At least Din had something to hide behind.

"No. You are young and supposed to be in love. It's expected. But that can't happen again." She turned to Din, "keep it in your pants until you're in your quarters."

He was as straight as a board. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. But he managed a shaky nod… then another for good measure. Cute, she thought once more.

—-

They watched the bomb fight on Keldabe from a small holo.

Celeste tried not to bite her nails nervously, but as the last fighters pulled from the scene without a single casualty, she couldn't help it.

It shouldn't have gone that smoothly.

Bo stood stoically, a stark contrast from earlier, examining the monitor of each soldier's heartbeat. Every ping was a person with friends and family, and not a single light had dimmed.

Why did it go that smoothly?

"Lady Bo-Katan, the perimeter of the city, has been cleared, and the scans have shown no underground activity."

"Thank you, General."

Bo turned to Din and Celeste, "You both should get some rest; you have a long day of travel tomorrow."

Celeste questioned, "You know how much I wish to see my home, but… the perimeter is still burning. Should we at least wait to see if they find any undercover troops first?"

"No!" She spoke too harshly for the situation.

Din's helmet tilted to the side. He noticed it too.

She tried to rectify her words, but they offered little distraction, "You will have guards on you at all times. I will send double if you are worried."

Celeste opened her mouth to comment, but Bo beat her to it.

"You may all be dismissed. My team has it covered from here. Your things will be packed for tomorrow when you wake up."

—-

Din didn't know why he thought whatever tension between them would be fixed with a bottle.

"The window was my idea. I'm sorry."

He was half propped up on his elbows, trying to get better leverage.

"Don't be," Din cleared his throat, "the drinking was my fault."

Celeste turned her head on the pillow to face him—something she rarely did—their noses now inches apart.

Her voice was a gentle whisper, "But it had worked though," she paused, "at least for a little bit."

She was right. For a moment, their bodies had worked together so fluidly; they had reached something better… something closer to a friendship.

And now he was back to just pushing her into the mattress.

He was trying to be gentle; he still felt like he was hurting her, although not physically.

Din asked for a third time, "Is this still okay?"

And every time, her answer was the same.

"Yes. Din, really, it's nice."

It really wasn't.

He thrust in, slowly dragged out, then back in before he gave up, laying his hips against hers while staying within her.

Pausing his movements so she knew he was serious, he spoke, "you don't have to appease me," Din took her face in his hand, thumb brushing away a hair on her freckled cheek. He wanted to hurt whoever made her feel like she did. Like she had to lay there and be good for her Mand'alor as if she were some sick Bespin whore.

She turned her head away again, and he did not force her to look back. Instead, he lowered himself further - burying his face in her neck and hair for just a moment. Din left her warmth and hiked up his sleep pants that had made their way to just below his knees. He fixed her nightgown, pulling up a strap that had fallen off her shoulder and adjusting where it had ridden up her stomach. She stayed perfectly still beneath him. Din pressed a kiss to her forehead, and he noticed her eyes were tightly closed. He adjusted the blankets to cover her and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear.

"Goodnight, Celeste."

A few seconds passed, and he watched the moonlight streaming from the window. Then he felt her shaking.

"Celeste?" Din turned to look at her. Her eyes were red and glossy.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He was?

Din tried to think of what she could possibly be referring to. He thought he had been hurting her.

"I am?"

"You stopped sex because I told you it was nice, and you didn't believe me," her voice crackled and was so faint against the distant sounds of Sundari below.

He was suddenly unsure again, and a pang of guilt washed over him. "Oh, were you into it? I can—."

Din stopped when he saw her watery smile and the slight shake of her head for 'no.' Celeste rushed forward and pressed a light kiss on his lips, capturing his lower one just slightly between her own. There was no heat, just closeness. He wiped away another tear as she curled herself around him and pressed a cold nose into his neck. She still couldn't stop the shaking.

Her actions surprised him, but Din was thankful for her presence as he ran his hand, as comfortingly as he could muster, up and down her back until she cried herself to sleep.

Taglist

@hyperfixated-ocd-nerd

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Note

Do you think the idea of a yandere falling in love with a reader who is extremely lazy who doesn't even care when he is kidnapped by yandere

Fuck, this turned really fucking dark ooops. I wrote it as apathetic reader but... idk it got messed up ig

Tw: female reader, implied death, non - consensual touching, sadism, threats, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, possessive behavior, apathy

Well, this wasn't exactly how you pictured your Saturday evening to go. But taking into account how boring and empty your usual weekend routine was, this felt more like free entertainment than a terrific kidnapping scene.

“I don’t get it” You exclaimed for the third time since you had woken up in that tiny stuffy room where it seemed like fresh air had never been more than a miracle. “Why am I here again?” You asked the tall dark figure towering over the broken-down bed you were currently laying on with your hands squeezed in harsh red bindings.The windows were tightened with metal locks and you couldn’t help but ask yourself whether they had been opened even once since the end of the Plague. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but the place really felt like a prison with no escape, and the lack of clear light didn’t help much with the gloomy atmosphere. You wondered whether you would actually die down here - not that it mattered anyways.

“I told you already.“ The stranger growled at you, frustration thick in his deep voice. He took a step towards you and put his palms on the end of the shattered sheet you were covered with. You knew you were practically naked under the worn out fabric, and the worst part wasn’t the vulnerability of your nudity or even the threat of violence in your captor’s eyes - it was the unpleasent feeling of falling threads and cotton rags rubbing on your exposed thighs. “I took you away because you belong to me!“ The man screamed suddenly as he brought his white boney hands to his black hood and quickly pulled it down to reveal a sickly-thin face with defined jawline and cheekbones. The skin looked pale and unhealthy, almost blue in certain places - under his piercing gray eyes and around his thin dark lips. And especially on his neck (although there you could see many colours besides blue). You didn’t care enough to think about what may have caused it.

“You just saw my face.“ Your captor whispered in a way you supposed should have been eery but it only made you roll your eyes. The poor guy was trying hard to fit into the role of a crazy stalker and you were simply too tired to play into his little game. “Now that you can identify me to the cops I will never let you go!“ The man shouted, deranged, then laughed manically for what seemed to be hours. He giggled “villainously“ for quite some time before he broke his resistance and stole a glance at you, hopeful, desperate for a reaction, yearning to hear you beg or at least cry out in fear, just to be met with a pair of bored eyes and a yawn on your sweet full lips. The stranger couldn’t mask his anger and dissapointment anymore, and with a swift movement across the bed he had you pinned underneath him, completely still.

“Don’t you get it?” The man mumbled under his breath and took his sharp silver knife out of his half - torn and patched pocket. He looked you dead in the eyes and pointed the blade to your neck, so close that you could feel its cold end lightly touching your flesh and taste the blood spilling from the cut. “You aren’t going home ever again.” The stalker lowered his head and ran his wet rough tongue all over your throat, causing icy shivers down your spine and absolutely no change in your calm expression. You were so sleepy you couldn’t wait for this to be over, one way or another. “I could do anything to you right now.” The strange added, searching for an ounce of emotion in your empty gaze, growing impatient by the second. “I could kill you.” He pronounced slowly through gritted teeth. “I could rape you, too.” Your captor purred as he placed a chaste kiss on your neck, then gripped your throat lightly. Still no fucking reaction. “Say something, dammit!” He finally broke down, crying out from the bottom of his heart. You signed, utterly exhausted. “Just get this over with so I can rest.” You replied at last, your voice low and raspy. You weren’t sure exactly what type of meaning you had put behind “rest”. You were just so tired - you couldn’t possibly think properly.

“You are nothing but a broken toy.“ The sadist uttered weakly, his tone filled with disgust and helplessness, the gray in his eyes fading away to pitch black. “You can’t even amuse me properly.” He grumbled in annoyance, totally defeated, and waited a few long seconds before moving his knife to your chest, over your breasts that were heaving rhythmically with each passing breath. He raised it above his head and you couldn’t help but admire the sight of his pale hands, the sparkling silver blade and the soft moonlight breaking through the window. "Goodnight, my love" The man whispered genlty and you closed your eyes, one word on your lips.

“Finally.”

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yancore #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #tw death

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

Text

flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

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

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

#sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #hurt comfort #soft whump #caretaking #i just couldn't stop writing #so this happened lol #i don't even know who the whumpee is at this point #everyone is the whumpee and everyone is the caretaker #where is the plot?? who can say #anyways enjoy this soft whumpy mess!!

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keilemlucent · 3 years

Text

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch.

You were put out.

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden—

His voice shocked you from your thoughts.

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?”

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways.

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride.

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it.

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you.

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea.

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words.

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away.

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you.

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin.

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed.

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was.

“I-I can change—”

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point.

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you.

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could.

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted.

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably.

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt.

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible.

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion.

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

“Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been—

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning.

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine.

“‘Uh-huh’, who?”

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before.

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced.

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled.

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you.

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot.

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting.

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!”

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch.

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue.

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking.

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs—

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver.

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest.

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?”

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

“Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass.

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.”

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks.

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands.

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler.

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise.

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more.

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course.

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!”

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead.

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings.

“TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?”

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position.

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same.

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine.

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation.

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut.

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....”

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed.

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest.

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’.

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?”

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you.

....

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hardcasey · 3 years

Text

Tangled Sheets

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Summary: A busy week working overtime have left both you and Fox tired and worn out, but not even exhaustion can keep you from one another.

Word Count: 1.6k

Ratings/Warnings: E, 18+ only!!!

Contains vaginal fingering and handjobs plus a whole bunch of domestic fluff ;)

A/N: I was yearning real hard for my favorite boy Fox and the need to write this suddenly possessed me. I was also inspired by @delusionsxfgrandeur’s Redefining Smut Challenge to try and write a sex scene without PiV penetration, which is a trope (is that the right word?) that is very easy to fall into when writing smut. I love the idea that couples can be intimate without needing to have penetrative sex, and wanted to explore one of the ways that could manifest in the context of a long term relationship. I’m happy with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You barely heard him come in over the sound of you brushing your teeth. There was a deep sigh as he settled down in a chair in the kitchen and started to meticulously remove each piece of armor, the familiar clacking of plastoid plates fitting together travelled down the short hall of your apartment. Any other time you would have finished what you were doing and gone to help him or even just watch, the way he stacked each armor plate together with practiced precision had become a nightly ritual you’d grown fond of. But you were exhausted, dead on your feet after working long shifts the entire week. You were surprised you hadn’t collapsed on the bathroom floor already.

Fox too had been working himself to death. He was a workaholic by nature but this week had been particularly hard and neither of you had been able to spare more than a few words or a quick kiss on your way to work. You missed him terribly and evidently he felt the same, if the way he wrapped you in a hug from behind as soon as he made his way into the bathroom was any indication. You leaned back into him as his hands found their way to your hips and he buried his face into your neck, his stubble scratching you slightly as he pressed a kiss there. The faint smell of coffee reached your nose and you smiled. You were never a big coffee person, but once the scent had come to be associated with him, you couldn’t get enough, to the point where you would sometimes stop by a coffee shop on your way to work just so you could be reminded of your beautiful Commander.

“Missed you, mesh’la,” he murmured into your skin before pulling away enough to let you spit out the toothpaste. You caught a glance at him through the mirror over the sink, his eyes bleary with dark bags underneath. You didn’t want to know how little he had slept in the past week.

“Missed you too,” you answered and you wished more than anything you could give him the warm welcome he deserved. The kind that involved rose petals on the bed and a sexy pair of lingerie. Maybe even a sensual massage with sweet smelling oils to soothe his aching muscles. Instead all he got was you, half asleep with a trail of toothpaste running down your chin.

He didn’t seem to mind though as his thumb came up to wipe it away, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before rinsing it off and grabbing his own toothbrush (the red one you’d insisted on getting him because it matched his armor, despite it being a dollar more expensive than the rest).

“You need to shave, babe,” you told him as you pulled your hair back so you could wash your face.

“Tomorrow,” Fox grumbled around his toothbrush, and you understood completely. There were a lot of things you were putting off until tomorrow too.

You swapped spots as the sink when he was done and he settled against one wall to watch you as you washed your face. The first time he did it you asked him why he didn’t just wait for you in bed, but he told you he just liked spending time with you, liked the intimacy of it.

Once you were done, the two of you padded into your bedroom together, him settling on the bed while you peeled off your clothes and donned your PJs, which was just an old shirt of his with a faded Republic cog on the front. All of the clones were big - they were soldiers after all - but Fox was even larger, taking up more than half of the bed. You didn’t mind, though, you liked to hold onto him when you slept. He was like your own personal teddy bear, warm and solid and comforting after a long day.

Fox lifted the covers up for you as you crawled in next to him, tucking yourself into his side and resting your head on his broad chest as you hitched one of your legs over his. One of his arms wrapped around you, bringing you closer and tucking you into him. The two of you laid in comfortable silence for a while, neither of you quite ready to fall asleep despite the sleep tugging at you. Your fingers ran along his chest and abdomen, tracing the hard muscle there. His hand travelled down your back before finding a home on the inside of your thigh and he began to trace lazy circles there, driving you crazy.

You shifted your head to look up at him. “I wanna fuck you so bad, but I’m too tired.” There was nothing you wanted more than to ride him into oblivion right now, but your limbs felt heavy as lead.

“Mmm. Me too… There’s always tomorrow, though.”

You whined at that which made him chuckle, the vibrations travelled through his chest and into your cheek. You lowered your fingers to the edge of his waistband, teasing the sliver of skin there, running through the patch of dark, wiry hair that trailed down from his navel. He huffed at your antics as if he wasn’t doing the same thing, his hand inching closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

“Maybe we could just…” you trailed off as your hand dipped into his pants, seeking out his rapidly stiffening member.

He let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan as your fingers wrapped around his shaft and started up a gentle rhythm. He was so hot and heavy in your hand as you worked him and you could feel a bead of precum leak out of the tip. You dragged your thumb up to collect it, teasing the slit as you did. That earned you a low groan from him, his abdomen spasming at the stimulation. Soon enough precum was dribbling out of his fully hard cock and you used it to coat your hand so your skin would glide easily against his.

His fingers dug into the meat of your inner thigh as you traced a throbbing vein along the side of his member and it was either that or the snap of the elastic waist of his pants as you tugged them down past his balls that snapped him out of his stupor and reminded him of his goal. He hooked a thumb in your underwear and tugged them down, exposing your heated core to the cool air and making you gasp. One of his thick fingers traced your slit before dipping in to collect your wetness before making its way to circle your clit, his hand large enough to cup your whole pussy despite the somewhat awkward angle. You huffed into his chest and ground your hips against his palm, seeking any kind of friction he would give you.

A warm, comforting kind of pleasure started building in your core, the kind that made your whole body feel like it was wrapped in a big, cozy blanket and the hand working his cock momentarily lost its rhythm as you surrendered to the feeling. Once you managed to collect yourself, you redoubled your efforts, adding a twist to the motion as your other hand came up to fondle his balls.

By now his hips were thrusting up in time with each stroke and you heard a weak “K-kriff” that made you smile devilishly. He buried his head into your hair and kissed the top of your head, whispering to you about how perfect it felt and how close he was, not that he needed to tell you that. The way his thighs shook and his balls started to tighten told you everything you needed to know. A few more pumps and he reached his peak, burying his face further against you with a groan as his cock throbbed, hot cum spilling over your fingers and splattering onto his abdomen.

Fox barely took a second to catch his breath before he was rolling you over onto your other side, his chest pressing against your back and his arms wrapping around your body. He slid one arm under your head to act as a pillow while his other hand found its way back to your pussy, two fingers pressing inside of you with his thumb pressed against your clit. He curled his fingers to reach that one spot that had you seeing stars, his pace slow yet insistent, methodically working you with the precision only a Marshal Commander could. You keened and arched your back as your climax swiftly approached and overtook you, your walls clamping down on his fingers and a gush of wetness coating his palm.

Unlike him, it took you a while to come back to yourself, taking gasping breaths as you laid there in his embrace. Your clit pulsed with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you could feel sleep set into your limbs as your body succumbed to exhaustion. With the little strength you had, you turned your head just enough to capture his lips in yours.

You finally let yourself fall asleep then, content in the knowledge your Commander would be there when you woke.

#redefining smut challenge #commander fox x reader #clone wars fanfic #star wars fanfic #reader insert #18+#commander fox

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lilacsnid · 3 years

Text

『✔』 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲: — 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

In which way you are always putting others needs and happiness before you’re own. It’s slowly starting to take it’s toll on you & Newt notices this.

A/N: ask permission to use or re-post my work, please do not steal or plagiarize my writing x

©lilacsnid

— “HEY, there you are,” You hear a voice softly call behind you that you instantaneously recognized as Newt’s, “I was looking for you.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you find him standing inside the doorway, a jar of Gally’s moonshine in his hand. You force a quick smile before turning back around to face the cabinet, “Here I am.”

“Thought you might’ve been hanging out with Minho or Chuck,” Newt spoke as he started walking over to you, not stopping until he was standing right beside you.

He leaned against the wooden counter top, his back resting against the shelf as his body faced the opposite direction as yours. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his body, making you want to curl up in his arms, but you couldn’t. Shouldn’t, you thought; correcting yourself.

You simply shrug your shoulders in response, trying your best to ignore the painful throbbing in your temples as a result from the lack of sleep.

Newt knew straight away that something was wrong. Not only could he tell by how blunt you were being, but he also knew by observing the way you worked in The Glade. Always offering others your support on top of the medical assistance. You’d skip meals and he’d usually find you working late into the hours of the night in the Med-Jack hut to stay back with injured gladers, as well as stocking supplies. You were known to your fellow gladers as a good listener, always willing to try and brighten someone’s day whenever they were feeling down.

You had been doing it for so long, letting others rely on you, that you had forgotten to take care of yourself. Newt noticed this above all else. But he also knew that you cared deeply for all those around you, and would stop at nothing to put their needs before your own.

The sleep deprivation was slowly starting to make you irritable and lose focus. It wasn’t healthy.

You could feel his gaze on you, watching you as you rolled up bandages.

He looked down at your hands, spontaneously mustering up the courage to take your hand in one of his own. The sudden action made you gasp slightly and you were quick to stop what you were doing. The first thought that popped into Newt’s head was how cold your hand was against his.

He furrowed his eyebrows before speaking, “You don’t seem yourself. Talk to me, please?”

You found it difficult to respond to him as you felt his thumb start to rub small circles into the back of your palm, your voice getting caught in the back of your throat. You opened your mouth to talk several times, but nothing came out. For the first time tonight, you met his gentle brown eyes. The light from the bonfire outside dimly lit the hut into a deep yellow luminosity, making his pale skin look toned like honey, as well as his gorgeous blonde locks.

A few short moments was all it took for the tears to start welling up in your eyes, and after blinking a couple times in attempt to stifle them, they started to stream down your rosy cheeks. Newt’s facial expression softened even more at the very sight. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he watched you, his hand still holding your own. He set his half-empty jar of alcohol down, leaning off the counter to take a step closer to you.

“Love,” he cooed, his other hand reaching up to rest on your shoulder, “What’s the matter?”

He felt stupid for asking such a question when he already knew the answer. But he was curious about what you might say in response. Now, more than ever, he could tell how hard you were struggling to keep your puffy eyes open as the tears kept coming.

A defeated sigh left your lips, as you stared at the ground while taking your hand out of his grasp to assist the other in rubbing over your eyes with your knuckles, “I’m just so tired.”

That was all Newt needed to hear before he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he cradled your body with the upmost care. You leaned up to brush your cheek against his before letting your body collapse into him, not really noticing how weak you were until now. You couldn’t contain the chocked sobs that started to overwhelm you. It broke Newt’s heart seeing you in such a state.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his lanky figure, absolutely loving the way he rubbed soothing circles into your back and the way he rested his head of top of yours as he rocked the two of you from side to side slowly. The warmth of his body enveloped you; he felt like home.

“I know baby, I know,” Newt spoke in a hushed tone, trying to calm you down. However, he couldn’t help but freeze momentarily at the choice of pet name that had just slipped from his lips.

He pulled his head away, glancing down at you, instantly meeting your surprised glance, eyes still filled with tears.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t know where that came from,” he stuttered helplessly, as he felt his cheeks heat up quickly in embarrassment, “It was uh, the first thing that popped into my head, I’m sorry I won’t-”

He stopped speaking as you started to shake your head in disagreement. You buried your head back into his chest, finding his scent addictive.

“I liked it,” You replied quietly, pursuing to grasp onto him tighter.

Newt breathed a sigh of relief in one short puff, placing his head back on top of yours. He couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you were; cuddled up into his chest, all shy and timid.

He swayed the two of you from side to side once more, placing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Why don’t I take you to bed, yeah? You a need a break, you really need some sleep.”

He tilts his head back down to meet your gaze, before continuing, “Does that sound okay to you?”

You nod meekly against his chest and let your eyes flutter shut as you struggle to keep them open. You were grateful that Newt had found you when he did. He was the one you trusted the most to see you in your most vulnerable state.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Newt didn’t need to ask anymore questions. He picked up your frail body, making his way over to the Homestead.

He carefully walked up the stairs, and down to the end of the corridor to his room. Kicking the door open with his foot, he shuffled over to his bed, placing you down onto the sheets, being cautious not to trip. He retreated to go over and close his door, also walking over to the other side of the room to close the window.

It was one of the colder nights in The Glade. You tried to hide the goosebumps starting to rise on your skin, but Newt had already seen them. You’re breath hitched as you watched him yank off his jumper, to which he proceeded to bend down in front of you and offer it to you. However, you shook your head at the sight of the newly exposed skin on his arms, “You’ll be cold.”

He placed the jumper in your lap, “I’ll be alright, anyway, looks like you need it more than me right now.”

You continued to eye the jumper, feeling slightly guilty. Newt rose to his feet, brushing off his pants and staring down at you with a smile.

“Y/N,” He laughed, lightly tapping you on the shoulder, “Come on, just put the bloody jumper on.”

Soon following his request, you tugged the white jumper over your body, fitting your arms through the sleeves. His smell that had grown accustomed to you filled your nostrils instantly. That musky boy smell, as well as grass and the scent of his deodorant.

“Thank you,” You whispered, no longer trying to hide the fact that you were staring at him as he grabbed two more blankets from his small wooden dresser.

He met your gaze once he turned back around. You noticed how his mouth fell agape as his eyes dragged over your figure, hunched over on the side of his bed.

“It’s no problem,” He grinned before continuing, “It suits you more than it suits me.”

You returned the smile, breaking your gaze to take off your combat boots. As you bent down, you felt the same throbbing pain return in both of your temples. You squeezed your eyes shut for a mere second, trying your very best to ignore it. You grumbled in annoyance as your fingers worked to try and get your shoe laces untied.

“Argh, for shuck sake!” You cursed, slamming you feet against the floor. You probably looked like a child throwing a tantrum, but at this point you couldn’t care less. You were exhausted and every muscle in your body was aching. The tears started streaming down your cheeks once again, making you even more irritated than what you already were. You weren’t usually like this, and everyone knew it.

Newt crouched down at your feet, his hands going to the back of your calves, halting your movements completely, “Hey, darling. C’mon, stop.”

You hid you head in your hands, harsh sobs escaping your lips as Newt began to untie your laces and remove your boots in a gentle manner. Once he was done, he set your shoes down on the ground, placing a hand on one of your arms in order to comfort you from where he was still crouching down.

His calm demeanor brought you back down to earth. There was something about him that made you feel warm inside. Something that drew you to him.

“Time for bed I think,” Newt said wholeheartedly, gesturing you to lay down on the bed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were unsure of how long exactly you had been asleep.

Waking up unexpectedly during the middle of the night, you noticed the drop in temperature around you. Goosebumps littered your skin, and you felt yourself shivering. You turned over, in search for Newt. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you found him laying next to you on his back. His half of the blankets that the two of you were sharing were pulled up to his chest. His head faced you, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with each steady breath he took in. One of his arms was also folded behind his head as he rested. You noticed that Newt now wore another jumper, it was dark blue. His eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks. A smile made it’s way across your lips at the sight of the blonde.

You didn’t want to wake him from his peaceful slumber, so instead you turned back over, facing away from him. Your arms reached to pull the blankets further up your torso and you clutched onto Newt’s jumper that you still wore.

Absentmindedly, you leaned back further into Newt, your body craving the warmth of his own.

To your despise, your teeth began chattering. You shook head as a way of trying to stifle it but it was no use. You pulled the blankets up to your chin and closed your eyes once more. Barely a few seconds later, you felt the bed shift beside you as Newt sat up on his elbows, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

He stared over at you quizzically, “Are you alright, love?”

You sighed, feeling guilty for potentially waking him from his slumber, “Yeah, I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

“No your not,” Newt hovered behind you, his eyes scanning over your body, “I can feel you shaking.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, I’m sorry,” You whispered, teeth still chattering between breaths.

Newt laughed softly, “Don’t be silly, come ‘ere.”

Before you could say anything else, Newt had shuffled closer towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he situated himself behind you. You couldn’t help but repeat your previous action, leaning back into his touch. His breath fanned over the back of your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” You mumbled happily, reaching down and grabbing his hand. You laced your fingers with his, clutching your intertwined hands to your chest.

Newt grinned in response, his body relaxing into yours.

“Just rest baby,” You felt him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his plump lips placing a kiss to your skin, “I’ve got you.”

You bit your lip in surprise, a sudden feeling of urgency rushing over you as your heart thumped against your chest. You were almost certain the Newt could hear the sound of it.

Turning your head slightly, you looked at Newt from the corner of your eye. Just then did you realise how close the two of you really were.

“Could you call me that again?” You whispered, clutching his hand closer to your chest and over your heart, loving the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, keeping you safe.

You could almost feel Newt smirking against your neck. He lifted himself up, using the arm that was wrapped around you to turn you over in one swift motion. You were now laying flat on your back with Newt hovering above you.

He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to contain a smile as his eyes wandered across your face. His warm hand that was situated at your side made it’s way underneath your shirt and jumper you were wearing to start tracing patterns into the skin of your hip.

He took a deep breath in, leaning in closer to brush the tip of his nose against the bridge of yours before whispering, “Baby.”

Then he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours, to which you eagerly accepted. He worked his lips slowly against your own, finding a slow and sensual rhythm between the two of you as he pulled you closer, still tracing patterns into your warm skin that was once cold, but no longer.

You reached up, running your hand through the sandy blonde hair on the nape of his neck, kissing back with just as much passion.

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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

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#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

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