#this is me half asleep and delirious sitting in bed after finishing

[brekkie-e]

So uhh.... what the heck happened internet? Did y'all really sleep on this queen?

Seriously though, how come this woman has not completely flooded my dash already???? I am flabbergasted. I am dismayed.

I seriously can not and will not get over her. The answer to my complaints about the rising "single dad figure rescues a kid" trope, and it's lack of female counterparts. A gaurdian figure to child-sized protagonists that not only adequately attempts to protect them from the violence they're up against, but also gives genuine parental smack downs. Who balances her well meaning criticism with genuine love and support?

I honestly do not think I have ever encountered a mentor figure in a narrative who has done the job even half as well as Sophia.

On top of that??? She's a freaking pirate queen. So legendary, they call her the Sea Scorpion! How cool is that?

I fully did not expect her to make it through the entirety of the game, but let me tell you I was thrilled that she got to live, and remains a part of Amicia's life. Im so happy they have a positive adult role model and protector.

[buckyalpine]

Sleepy Bucky

Overworked and exhausted beefy babie Bucky. He’s borderline acting like a toddler because he’s so tired and doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s beyond just sleepy, nearly delirious from a lack of rest after spending weeks on a mission. He’s all pouty and grumpy on the jet ride over, dragging his duffle back behind him as he trudges through the compound. 

“Hey Buck” You greet him from the couch where you were watching TV, only for him to wordlessly flop forward and face plant himself onto the sofa. “You okay?” 

He lets out a grunt while you pet his hair, coaxing him to at least lie on his back instead of suffocating himself into the couch seat. 

“What’s wrong Bucky” 

“Wan a poptart” 

You were sure you heard incorrectly, there was no way the super solder had requested the very treat he said was nothing but sugar and chemicals (though it didn’t stop him from finishing the whole box the first time he tried them). 

“A poptart?”

“Stwabewy poptart” 

You blink at his slurred words, watching him curiously as he rolls off the couch to slump onto the floor like a starfish, eyes wide open, arms and legs splayed out to the sides.

“Do you still want the poptart?”

“Ya” 

You nod, heading over to the kitchen to toast a poptart for him, occasionally peeking over to see what new pose he’d put himself in. You bring the poptart for him on a small plate along with a glass of milk, placing it on the coffee table where he’s still laying down. He pouts when you don’t put it on the floor within his reach, not bothering to sit up from his chosen position. 

“Feed me” He demands, looking at you with puppy eyes while you giggle, sitting down beside him and bringing the poptart to his mouth so he can take a bite. You’re not a fan of him eating in such a pose but it’s not like your strong enough to move him yourself. 

“Careful, don’t choke” 

“Save me. Give me mouth to mouth” He snickers to himself, while you roll your eyes, letting him take little bites.

“Wan milk” He rolls over onto his front, humming contently when you bring the glass for him to take a sip. You can’t believe you have to deal with this absolute manchild, letting him finish his snack. 

“Why don’t you get some rest” You see his eyes starting to close, but his body still too wired to actually fall asleep. 

“Don’t wanna” he rubs his eyes,  unsure of what he even wants anymore. 

“Alright, how about we just put your things away and change into something more comfy” Your reason with him, relieved when he nods and allows you to help him up, taking him to his room. He tosses his bag aside before starting to take off his gear, grumpily huffing when his zip gets stuck. 

“My zip” He pouts, dropping his arms to his sides, ready to crawl into bed with his tac suit on at this point. You giggle, gently tugging it till it easily slides down, helping him with the rest of the belts and buckles until he’s in just his boxer briefs. 

“How about your joggers and a tshirt?” You were about to go to his closet to grab his clothes but he has no interest in putting clothes back on. 

“No”

“But you’re just in your underwear Buck” You say incredulously while he starts making his way to bed, slipping under the covers. 

“M’not nakey. Just half” He shrugs, giving you grabby hands, hoping you’ll join him. You sigh, joining him under the covers, hoping he’ll go right to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

“Wanna sleep” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh because it’s very clear he needs it and no one’s stopping him from going to bed. 

“Go to sleep Bucky” 

“Okayyy” He drawls, shuffling around the sheets, huffing with each position, deeming nothing comfy enough for him to sleep. He reaches over for you, disregarding his pillow and replacing it with you instead. 

“What are you doing Buck” 

“M’a koala” He mumbles, burying his face into your chest and wrapping his arms and legs around you, his body starting to finally relax, all the tension in his muscles dissipating into thin air once hes wrapped around with you. 

“You’re a 6 foot super soldier” You huff, shifting against his wishes, trying to get air back into your lungs while he lets out a disgruntled grunt each time you squirm. “And you’re heavy”

“You movin’ too much” He complains, eyes still squeezed shut, hugging you tighter, starting to fall in and out of sleep at the feeling of your warmth. 

“Cause you’re squishing me bub” You snort, grazing his scalp and softly rubbing his temples while he purrs against you like a needy kitten. In his state of half slumber, he only registers bits and pieces of what you say. 

“M”not squishy” His voice is muffled as he keeps his face pressed into your chest. 

“No, I said you’re squishing me” By now theres no point in trying to tell him what you mean, he’s too sleepy to understand anything. 

“My squishy” He sleepily mumbles, letting out a content sigh when you pull the covers up over both of you. “G’night squishy” 

[k-slla]

Watching Over Me

A/N: So I had this idea last night before falling asleep and just had to finish it. All mistakes are mine, ignore pls😊

@cevansbaby-dove & @jackles010378, thought of you two when I wrote it , so I hope you'll like taking care of Sick hubby Dean🥰

My Masterlist

I woke up and turned around to look at Dean. I was surprised to see him already up, he was usually deep sleeper. He didn't notice me waking up and continued to stare the ceiling. "Morning, babe." I said quietly and put my arms around him. "Morning." He groaned back weakly. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer. I sat up to take a closer look at him. "Babe, are you sick?" I asked worriedly and touched his forehead. "You're burning up. Can you sit up, please? I'll bring you some water and Advil. I want to get the fever down, okay?" He only nodded for answer. He really must be feeling awful to admit it to me on first try. I stood up from bed and looked for my robe. "Hey, babe?" He asked. "Yeah, can I get you something?"

"No, just wanted to say you're beautiful." He smiled weakly at me. I smiled back at him. "Aw,babe, you're just delirious." I kissed his forehead and turned to leave our bedroom. Almost out of door I heard a quiet mutter behind me. "No, I'm not." Smile was again on my lips as I heard him sigh loudly. "I'll be right back."

The bunker was quiet. Sam probably stayed at Eileen's last night. I entered the kitchen and straight to the medicine cabinet. After finding what I needed, I grabbed a glass of water and went to see Dean. "Hey, take these and try to sleep, okay? I'll make you some soup. "

"Thanks, dear." He took the the meds and drank the whole glass of water. "Can I get some more please?"

"Sure." I said as I went to fill the glass again. When I got back, he was already asleep so I left the glass on a nightstand and went to make him some food.

After hour and half of struggling, I heard front door closing. Sam got home and followed the noise I was making in the kitchen.

"Y/N! What are you doing? Where's Dean?" He laughed at the mess in the kitchen. I was getting hopeless. Chopped veggies were everywhere. "Uuhh- He's asleep. He's sick and I wanted to make him soup, but I'm- " I cut the words and looked around in the kitchen. "Can you help your poor sis out? " I looked at him pleadingly.

"How is it possible that you bake so well but can't cook even if your life depends on it? Of course I'll help you."

I retreated into the corner to sit at the table out of his way. Marrying into the Winchester family was best decision I've made in my life. Watching Sam move masterfully in the kitchen, I couldn't help but gawk at him in awe.

"You Winchesters are amazing in kitchen. Where did you learna to cook this well? " I asked him. "Oh, yeah." I said knowingly, as I remembered that the boys didn't really have a choice, with John always away they had to cook for themselves.

"Dean teached me, you know? He used to experiment with different recipes as soon as he could go shopping alone. Until the we pretty much lived off canned soups and corn flakes." He said sadly and he reminisced about childhood.

After some time the kitchenwas filled with amazing smells.

"Soup's almost done. Can you make some grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"That I can do!" I said happily as I jumped up from my seat.

Carefully balancing the bowl of soup and sandwich on a large plate, I made my way to our bedroom.

"Hey, D. I brought you some soup. "

He sat up in bed. "I have to admit, I had some help making this. I was a lost cause in there and Sammy finished the cooking. So it should be fine." I said smiling at him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am actually. "

I carefully placed the plate in his lap. "Please try not to spill, okay?" I laughed as I sat down next to him.

"What am I? Four?" He asked and immediately spilled some soup onto the blanket.

"Oops. Sorry!" He said innocently. I just facepalmed.

After he finished his lunch, I took care of the dishes. The worst part of cooking.

Finally when kitchen was squeaky clean again, I took a quick shower.

"Babe, come here." Dean called me sleepily when he heard me entering our room again. "Just a sec, hun." I answered as I pulled the towel from my hair. I dried my hair a bit and joined him on the bed. "Can I get you something?"

He swiftly put his arms around me and pulled me into his embrace. "Hey!" I squealed.

"Just want some cuddles, babe." He kissed the top of my head and I just sank into him. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, looking curiously into his eyes.

"For taking care of me. I love you, Y/N." I gently stroke his head.

"In sickness and in health, that's what we promised each other, right?" He smiled at that remark. "Get some sleep now, you'll feel better soon."

"Please stay with me." He said quietly.

"Of course."

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 18 - Too Weak to Move

A/N: Doc helps a recovering Marty while stuck in 1885. A continuation of Day 12 Semi-Conscious.

The optimism Doc had experienced when Marty first started regaining consciousness hadn't lasted as long as he'd hoped.

If anything, that optimism had been quickly replaced with irritation and frustration. Teenagers simply do not make good patients.

It'd been another three days at the McFly farm before the town doctor had decreed Marty was strong enough to return to Doc's workshop. He'd barely spoken for the first couple of days, as he only had the strength to stay awake long enough to finish the majority of a bowl of soup before returning to a state of slumber.

Doc had never cared for someone so unwell before, and had been heavily reliant on the doctor's advice when he first brought Marty home. He'd panicked the first time he was asked to give an unconscious Marty some water: "But he'll choke! He's unconscious!"

"Trust me, Emmett," The doctor had said calmly. "Maggie was doin' this when he was delirious and jumping all over the bed! Surely you ain't gonna let a woman provide better care?"

Doc had chosen to ignore the sexist remark, gently pressing a spoonful of water against Marty's lips. He almost dropped it when the young man's mouth opened involuntarily and swallowed the hydrating liquid. Okay…so at least I'm not going to drown the kid. That's good to know.

The doctor and Maggie McFly had given him a crash course on feeding and hygiene, which Doc knew Marty would be horribly embarrassed about once he was lucid again, but they were chores that needed to be done to give him strength to recover.

Although every time he fell asleep, Marty woke each time to find he felt slightly stronger, and was slowly regaining his stamina to perform daily tasks. Despite this accomplishment, he was still physically weak after being bedridden for ten days, and could barely stand by himself without Doc's support. It would take ten minutes to get to and from the bathroom, and as the days passed, Marty found himself growing more and more frustrated with his apparent lack of progress.

But Doc knew exactly what was running through Marty's head. Although it had been a long time ago, he remembered what being a teenage boy was like, and the seeming invincibility that the young mind believed it possessed. He also remembered how frustrated he'd been after coming down with polio as a young man, and the lengthy recovery process.

It explained exactly why he found Marty half-hanging out of the bed, his face red with exertion as he weakly tried to push himself upright with his elbow. Rushing too soon and jumping into things. I wonder if this experience will prevent his car accident?

"My God, Marty, what the hell are you doing?" Doc rushed from the doorway to his friend's side, hoisting Marty's scarily-light frame onto the mattress. "You know you're supposed to call me if you need the restroom!"

Marty was initially too winded to answer. His chest hurt as he finally found the breath to wheeze out a reply. "I can…manage…"

"Marty, you need to slow down!" Doc pleaded. "You're pushing yourself too hard-"

"Doc, I'm supposed to be able to do this!" Marty cried in exasperation, stunning Doc with his outburst. His voice was growing stronger; the young man's true feelings were finally coming to the surface, and it seemed they were about to bubble over. "I…I'm not an old man, for Christ's sake! I should be able to get up and walk and not have to piss myself in a damned pan! The fact that I've been lying in my own sweat and having people wipe my ass is so…so-"

Marty trailed off as his body tried to release a sob while also inhaling enough air. Doc helped him into a sitting position, placing a couple of pillows behind his bony shoulders for support. The young man sobbed and wheezed pathetically before he was able to regain control of his breathing, and he rubbed his face in agitation. "I-I don't deserve all this, Doc, I s-should be able to-"

"But you're sick, Marty. That's an acceptable excuse to not be able to do it all," Doc spoke kindly. "And you've never been this sick before either. Even in 1985, you'd still take a while to recover."

Marty raised an eyebrow. "Even with all the extra medical stuff?"

"Yes. Medications and intravenous fluids definitely would've helped, but only time will help you to recover."

Marty nodded wearily and closed his eyes, seemingly satisfied with that explanation for the time being. "S'pose we're not going back to the future anytime soon then?"

"Not until you're well again. I can't lift you in and out of the Delorean without popping a few vertebrae."

The young man groaned, lifting a hand to massage his forehead. "God, I really miss Tylenol."

Doc laughed. "Don't forget the antibiotics, too."

"Oh yeah. Them too."

[ayearofgoodfate]

i’m staying awake making sure my roommate doesn’t start showing od symptoms. we tend to take things too far. i have my hell day later and it’s all i can do not to fall asleep but i miss my parents house even though they didn’t always know how to be parents and i miss my little brother and sister and my dog and my bookshelf and the wall i would tape up magazine articles and photos to whenever i got sad. and i think that college fucks you up a little bit. there is so much love here. there’s also so much trauma.

when i was about nine my dad decided that he and i were going to read every single book in the middle grade section of the library. my dad had a lot of passion and not a lot of ways to harness it so every saturday he would drive me to the library and he had this old grey car that he could never tame enough to follow the speed limit. and we’d just spend hours there. my dad never talked to me a lot, we never had conversations that weren’t in a group setting. he never told me things or asked me questions but i was a talker so he learned what would work to work around that. he read to me. he’d always read to me. we’d knock out a book or two in the library, literally just sitting there for four hours straight on the old blue carpet while he’d make up voices for the characters, then we’d take about twelve more books home for the week. I’d read most of them on my own, but we’d go through one or two together throughout the week before bed. when we left the library he’d always buy girl scout cookies in quarters from whoever was outside the library selling. we’d eat the whole box. dad never made it feel like we had less than. he never ever told me that we were as poor as we were. he has done a lot of things but i will love him for that forever. i will always defend my dad.

we stopped reading together after a while. he got tired or i got old and he’d joined the church and my siblings weren’t babies and suddenly there were littler kids that needed reading time too. we didn’t finish the entire middle grade section of the library. i don’t think we even made it halfway. i don’t think dad has gone to the library since. the last book we read, we didn’t finish, and i was a bitch about it. it was this big collection of science fiction short stories and the girls in my class had been telling me that stuff was for boys and i simply wasn’t having it. dad wouldn’t have that. every book is every book, so we trudged.

i got really sick that fall. i slept for days straight. my parents couldn’t afford doctors and probably wouldn’t have taken me anyway but dad was really good at taking care of sick people. he’d sit there and watch me breathe and make me mac and cheese and read to me and i’d be half asleep. this one story was about solipsism. i was delirious, drifting in and out of his voice, letting the idea of me being the only real person in the world marinate in my mind. i woke up three days later like i’d never been sick. i needed to read that story again because i needed to know it existed because, mainly, i needed to know that dad did and mom did and baby sister and brother and my friends and the book was gone.

i looked for it for years in different libraries. big. silver. i resigned myself to the fact that it was a fever dream and then like magic it popped up on the library shelves again. i took it out and renewed it for months on end and drew in it with the invisible ink pen I stole from office depot’s back to school sale. i marked it with my name and annotated it with notes on how dad read it when i was little and it was mine until it was overdue. years later i bought a used copy i found at a yard sale. annotated. i play around in my mind with the idea of trading the books out, as if i still live in a place where i could. the point is, it’s real. we’re real. dad was real, our library trips that had been half forgotten were real, and isn’t it nice to feel real and to know everything else is too?

I miss dad. my roommate’s breathing heavy and in a few hours she will wake up sick. between my classes i’ll raid my drawers and wallet for enough coins to run to cvs and buy her some mac and cheese because that’s what we both crave when we’re not doing too good. i will never tell her i paid for it in coins and i’ll never tell her i stayed up to make sure she’d be okay. we’re a lot alike and so i’m not even mad at her for what she did tonight. she just wanted to know she was real. she is my best friend and she has a lot of passion. i take to people like that, latch onto them like a leech because i was taught to feel deeply and anyone who doesn’t i seem to repel. i will go to class and not fall asleep, and i’ll wear cute clothes and there will be circles under my eyes and no part of me will match but that’s how i am and i can’t ever in good faith tell anyone why. i play around with calling dad a lot. I look at his contact but i can’t bring myself to hear the silence. i think that’s why i went to book school in the first place. i think it’s why i’m writing this.

[arcaneprism]

Nursing the Sick One - Julie & Kayla

Number 9!! What better time to write about sick people than when you’re sick yourself?

Anyways I’ve been thinking about Kayla

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Kayla being ill wasn’t a regular occurrence. Generally, she was one of the last of them to fall sick, if at all. That, coupled with her studying to get into nursing, usually made her the unintentional caretaker in their household for when all of them fell sick. Julie wondered how she coped. Because Julie was in her role right now and she wanted to die.

She loved her housemates, truly she did but good lord they were really making her think that they should be giving Kayla presents every time someone fell sick. She kind of wished that Kayla wasn’t one of the sick ones right now so that she could have some help but hearing Kayla’s croaky ‘come in’ when she knocked on her door had her changing her mind quickly. She more than deserved the break she was getting.

Not that being ill was a break but given how stretched thin she had been with assignments and placement and Dirty Candi practises, it was probably as close as she was going to get.

“How are you feeling?”

All Julie got from the pile of blankets was a pained groan.

“I have soup.”

Another groan. Julie frowned behind her mask, putting the soup aside to poke and prod at the pile of blankets until Kayla finally emerged from her blanket nest.

“Come on, up we go.” Julie urged, fussing around Kayla’s complaints until she managed to force herself to sit up. She looked groggy, eyes drooping as if she was about to fall asleep again, and her usual smile replaced by the angriest scowl Julie had ever seen on her.

“I’m not hungry,” she grumbled, looking somewhat like a disgruntled cat and Julie had to hold back a laugh.

She didn’t take no for an answer though, having learned from Alex who had nearly bitten her head off when she tried to get him to eat and then almost ended up crying because he was hungry a little later on. Unlike Alex who acted like a toddler when Julie tried to feed him, Kayla was compliant, swallowing down the soup whenever Julie spooned it into her mouth.

She managed to make Kayla eat half the bowl before Kayla finally had enough, pushing away the soup when Julie tried to get her to eat another spoonful.

“Are you going back to sleep now?” Julie asked when Kayla had finished up as much water as she could tolerate.

Kayla shook her head, settling back down into her pillows in a still upright position, “Have to wait 30 minutes.”

Oh. 

Right. That was a thing. Maybe Julie shouldn’t have let Luke flop back into bed right after he had eaten. No matter. She’ll check on him later to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep or something.

“Do you want company till then?”

Kayla tilted her head, taking a moment to think through the fuzz in her brain before she finally nodded. Julie smiled and took a perch at the end of her bed.

“How’s playing nurse going?”

Julie wasn’t sure what kind of face she made, but it managed to pull a laugh out of Kayla and she was more than happy to take that as a win.

“That bad?”

Julie thought of Reggie who was so quiet and resigned to his sickness that if he died in his sleep, Julie probably wouldn’t realise till the next meal time, then of Nick who had become so whiny Julie had nearly strangled him, and then to Bobby and Flynn who both of them somehow wanted to be productive and needed to be sat on until they actually took a rest. (God, she was grateful that Carrie was travelling right now, she’d rather die than have to take care of a sick Carrie as well).

“At least we have Willie.” Julie finally said as a response. Willie had been an angel. The best patient in the house. Even if he was so delirious that half of what he was saying didn’t make sense. But hey, he at least listened and didn’t whine too much.

“Remind me to take you out to dinner when you’re well again. You deserve it for having to deal with us being like this so often.” Julie added.

Kayla only laughed.

[rrazor]

positions | m. issei

tags: fluff, mildly suggestive content

issei never knew how much he loved touching you until he was granted unconditional permission to do so. he thought he was relatively independent and someone who didn’t need as much reassurance or physical affection compared to other guys around him, like oikawa and hanamaki or even iwaizumi.

he thought he’d be fine, satisfied, content with just having you sit next to him or holding your hand or just being near you.

he thought wrong.

but he’s okay with that—you always indulged him after all, more than happy to have him close. your face lights up in a way that’s so adorable it pains him and has his fingers itching for contact.

he toys with the edge of your hoodie, watching your in-game character dash about. turning his head, he dips it into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes. his arms automatically tighten around you as he noses into the skin there.

“‘sei, you bored?”

he mumbles his “no” into your skin, smelling clean and cottony from your shower. his legs tangle with yours underneath the blankets. the side of his right foot comes up to brush against your bare calf and he begins to wish he wore shorts instead.

you hum, fingers tapping away at the screen while his slide up under your hoodie. you glance down at them before looking back to your screen again. issei grins happily behind you, gently roaming his hands across your stomach and up to cup your boobs. your skin is soft, recently moisturized. you talked about how you bought a new one, how it was “natural” and made your skin feel like velvet. he agrees, roaming his hands around and taking in all your dips and curves.

“hey!” you squeal. “i’m fighting!”

he chuckles, kissing your cheek. “and you’re gonna lose if you don’t focus.”

you huff, but to his delight, don’t tell him to stop so he lets you grumble, snickering like the cat who got the cream.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

he wakes up to a delirious fog, overheated and chilled to the bone. bringing his hand up to rub at his eyes, he blinks through the darkness of his room, slowly extending an arm to his phone on his nightstand.

5:37pm.

“nii-chan… room… dinner.”

he hears footsteps get closer to his door. a short series of knocks.

“issei?” your voice is soft. “are you awake?”

“yes,” he tries to say, but it comes out a rasp, too quiet. he wonders why you’re here anyways, on a school night when there’s a math exam tomorrow. an exam he hopes he’ll pass given the state he’s in.

the door opens gently, allowing the soft yellow light from the hallway into his room. you walk in, hands carrying a tray. he hears the china knock into each other.

“oh, you’re awake.”

he nods, watching you set down everything on his nightstand before putting a hand over his forehead. the steam of the mug rises and already, he can feel how dry his mouth is.

“how’re you feeling?”

he clears his throat, wincing at the amount of phlegm he’s forced to clear out. you frown, if your down turned eyebrows are anything to go by. he can’t see the rest of your pretty face behind your mask.

“been better,” he croaks.

you huff out a laugh. “got enough energy for your meds?”

he nods, sitting up just enough to make it easy to wash the pills down with water before he slumps back into bed.

“are you hungry?” you ask, sitting down at the edge of his bed.

he shakes his head, letting you touch his forehead again.

“tired? wanna go back to sleep?”

he hums noncommittally, bringing his hand up to hold onto your wrist. you run your fingers through his soft curls, making him shiver.

“go to sleep,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, pulling you hard enough that you fall over him in surprise. he wraps his arms around your torso, burying his face in your chest.

“hey,” you chide, resting on your elbows above him. “you need to rest.”

he nuzzles into your shirt, relishing in having you close. the smooth, cool cotton of your shirt a welcome feeling on his overheated skin.

“missed you.”

straight through the heart.

“i missed you, too,” you whisper.

“stay a bit?” he pleas. he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t really help himself.

you bring the blankets up over yourself and his heart soars. he tucks himself on top of your chest, heart pounding in his chest as you pull your mask down to kiss his forehead. it’s tender, so comforting.

he falls asleep to the smell of cotton and camomile.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

“babe.”

you hum, lips resting against his forehead. the clock on the bedside table reads 9:48pm in muted led.

he can’t see you in the dark, tucked in so close to you. issei’s resting beside you again. because he can’t ever get enough. because that’s where he belongs, hands on your skin, head tucked into your neck. he’s tall, might as well be two metres, two whole hundred centimetres but issei adores it when he gets to be the small spoon.

“d’y’ever think about the people who got infinity symbols tattooed or those moustaches—wonder how they’re doing?”

he can hear you, feel you laugh.

“no, i would’ve never if you didn’t bring it up,” you snort. “forgot about those dumb trends.”

he chuckles softly into your pajamas, slotting himself closer to you. he can’t explain it but an overwhelming surge of love blooms in his chest when you bring the blankets up to cover his shoulders.

you’ll probably end up on opposite sides of the bed in the morning, maybe even turned away from one another. s’fine, he usually ends up scooching over to you anyways. the rise and fall of your chest slows. it’s a bit too early for him to doze off—.

“g’night, ‘sei,” you mumble, kissing his hairline. “love you.”

he nods imperceptibly, kissing where your heart is. “night,” he whispers. “love you more.”

you mumble something into his hair. he draws infinity signs on your back.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

today, he’s the big spoon—sorta. you’re on the train to the mitsui outlet park. it’s crowded, likely because of the kamen rider event going on. the rest of his family got there early to participate from start to finish.

it’s 11:58am and he’s caged you in between the train walls, a nice barricade from other passengers.

he’s zoning out when he hears your stomach growl.

“did you eat breakfast?”

you look up at him sheepishly. “no?”

he leans down to knock his forehead against yours, lips curling upward when you make a funny noise.

“i think i have candy in my pockets.”

his mom was giving them out in the morning after finding them in her purse. she handed him a few saying she got them from work.

“really?” your eyes glimmer as your hands reach into his pockets. your rummaging digs up two pieces of caramel. you unwrap them and feed one to him before pocketing the plastic.

“y’know i think i love you a little bit.” you grin, tongue swirling caramel goodness.

“yeah?” he snickers. “can’t blame you. i’m the ultimate catch—tall, funny, handsome.”

you roll your eyes, watching as he leans against the glass perpendicular to the doors. he stands closer when the doors on the opposite open. you raise your fists up in front of you. “i’ll have you catch these hands.”

“you could have just told me you wanted to hold hands, babe,” he chuckles, grabbing your right one and leaving a quick kiss on your forehead.

“don’t twist my words,” you grumble. your words are half spoken into his chest when he presses closer as a businessman squeezes by.

“oh, don’t worry.” he winks. “i know you and i have other plans for these hands later.”

you snort. “yeah, prayer.”

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

issei leans back against the couch, tilting over onto the arm to rest his head as he settles into his food coma.

“issei, come back and have some marinated duck!”

he groans a little, telling his grandmother that he’d be over soon. though he could eat a lot, the walls of his stomach could never defeat nor contain the power of his grandmother.

he decides it’s a great time to take a picture of his extended stomach and send it to you.

>> (05:47) babe >> (05:47) [img.png] >> (05:48) i’m expecting

>> (05:51) what the Hell >> (05:52) tw: mpreg

>> (05:53) did you just trigger warning me?

>> (05:53) yes

>> (05:54) damn >> (05:55) well I don’t need this negativity in my life >> (05:55) relationships r built on mutual respect >> (05:56) I’ve told u I love you what more do u want

>> (05:57) nudes

>> (05:57) 😔😢😢

>> (05:58) here’s one of mine >> (05:58) [img.png] >> (05:59) 🥰❤️❤️❤️

he’s never sat up so fast in his life.

“issei, are you coming?”

he bites his tongue. “yes, grandma.”

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

he comes back home to you two days later. he drops his bags on his bedroom floor and is about to run out the house to yours when his mom yells at him from the kitchen, “issei, sort through your things before you go!”

his shoulders slump and his head hangs but he gets it done and then he’s off.

>> (02:12) I’m home 😎😎💩 >> (02:12) wait ididnt mean the poo emoji

>> (02:13) welcome home 🌸

>> (02:13) Open the door  

you do, though it takes you a millisecond too long but he’s not going to gripe too much about it. he engulfs you in a hug the moment he sees you and nearly knocks your cell phone onto the pavement. your arms automatically go behind him. swaying, you stay there, sun shining and leaving an orange tint behind when you close your eyes.

“welcome back, ‘sei.” you nuzzle your head into his. “how was your grandma’s?”

he mumbles something but doesn’t make any effort to move. not wanting to attract stares, you slowly waddle backwards to get him through the front door. on your third step back, he just picks you up and does it himself before closing the door behind him and returning to his original position.

“‘sei,” you drawl out. “my back huurts.”

he pulls back the slightest, eager to see you up close yet wanting to keep you close. “i just wanted to hug you, is that so bad?”

“bedroom” is all you say. he frowns but lets you take him there anyways.

you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. he instead opts to kneel down on the floor and rest his head on your thighs.

“‘sei?”

“grandma’s was good,” he murmurs, eyes closing when you run a hand through his curls. “thank you for the nude.”

you laugh and he takes the chance to get up and pull you into bed with him. he rolls you on top of him, brushing your hair away and cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss. his tongue is warm, soft, lax and you melt into him, onto him.

“wait,” he mutters.

“hm? something wrong?” you lean up a bit.

“i left your food at my place. my grandma made you some.”

you hum, leaving kisses on his jaw and swinging your legs. “we can go over later. kiss me more, please?”

he grins. “thought you’d never ask, babe.”

[yikestripes]

Good Morning, Sunshine

i was feeling something a little extra domestic and fluffy tonight so i whipped this up :)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none; s o much fluff

“Hello?” You were barely audible, considering your phone ringing had not only woken you up, but the vibrating on the nightstand scared the living hell out of you.

“Hey babe, we just finished up the case. We’re boarding the jet now; I should be at your apartment in about 3 or so hours.” Spencer said, sounding exhausted himself.

“I’ll be waiting. You sound like you haven’t slept, please try to get some rest on the jet.”

“You don’t have to wait up, it’s gonna be like, 4:30 am D.C time.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep at least a little bit.”

“I’ll make sure he knocks out.” You heard Derek say on the other end.

“Thanks Derek. I love you, Spence. Have a safe flight.”

“I don’t really have control over that, but I love you too. See you tomorrow.” You shook your head with a small laugh; either Spencer really was delirious, or he didn’t know you at all. You always waited up for him when you knew he was coming home. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep anyway, you’d be awake worrying until you heard him come through the door and then make all the noise possible changing his clothes and slipping into bed. Sometimes you wondered if he even realized how loud he could be.

You put your phone back on the nightstand and climbed out of bed, pulling one of Spencer’s hoodies over your head as you made your way to the kitchen. You hummed to yourself as you looked around, wondering how you were going to entertain yourself for the next few hours while you waited. You looked to your bookshelf, but remembered that reading always made you tired. You looked at the TV and remembered that all the shows you were currently watching, you were watching with Spencer, and you both actively tried not to watch without the other. That left one option; baking.

You pulled the ingredients together quickly, already having a plan in place. You were going to make Spencer’s favorite treat; your lemon poppy seed muffins that you made every once in a while, which is what made them so special. Spencer fell in love with those before he had fallen in love with you, whenever you brought them to his office to surprise him when you two first started hanging out. He constantly joked that those were the reason you two were still together, to which you would smack his arm and he would give you that sweet little smile that only Spencer Reid could muster.

You grabbed your speaker from your bedroom and blasted some classic rock as you worked the ingredients together. By the time they were in the oven, an hour had already passed and Spencer would be there within another 2 hours. You looked to your cat, Peanut Butter, who had lazily strolled into the kitchen and just looked at you.

“What?” You asked him as he stared at you. He meowed quietly in response, and rubbed against your bare legs. You picked him up and scratched his little head, earning a soft purr in response. “I’ll go back to bed soon, PB. I’m waiting for Spence,” You said. You frowned to yourself and put him back on the ground, where he proceeded to swish his tail at you as he walked away.

“I’ve taken to talking to my cat. I’ve really lost it now. Oh great, now I’m talking to myself in my empty apartment while I bake at 2:30 in the morning. This is normal.” You said to yourself.

You shook your head once again and went to go watch a movie while the muffins finished. You decided to watch one of your old favorites, Jaws. Every time you watched it together (which was often, considering it was one of your favorite movies), Spencer would always critique the likelihood of a killer shark ever coming that close to the beach and killing that many people. You would argue back that it could have gotten a taste for humans, because sharks weren’t the brightest creatures, and he would argue that the only time in history a shark that we knew of existed at that size was the megalodon, which went extinct some time ago. Eventually you would stop responding, Spencer would wrap his arm around you to pull you closer, and you would just enjoy the movie.

The oven beeped about halfway through the movie, about 30 minutes before Spencer was supposed to come home. You grinned to yourself as you set them aside to cool, and started up the coffee maker. You pulled down Spencer’s favorite Doctor Who mug from the cabinet, set it beside your mug and the coffee machine, and went to grab his favorite pajamas from the bedroom. You knew Spencer was utterly capable of taking care of it himself, but you setting everything out for him was one of the things he loved most about you, it just showed him how much you cared time and time again.

You were in the last 10 minutes of the movie when you heard the floor creaking outside of the door, and your heart leapt into your throat. You could hear Spencer outside of the door fumbling with his keys, a sure sign that he was tired and probably had just woken up. You smiled at the fact that he had taken your advice, or Derek forced him to.

“Hey babe.” You turned the TV off and ran over to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hi stranger.” You pulled away after a solid minute and ran your thumb across his cheek, taking in the circles under his eyes. “Oh baby, please tell me you slept.” Spencer smiled.

“Actually, yes. Emily actually had to wake me up this time, I slept through takeoff and landing.” He grinned.

“I laid your pajamas out on the bed for you, they’re your favorites.” Spencer placed a chaste kiss on your lips as he headed to your room. Although you hadn’t officially moved in together, Spencer basically lived at your apartment. It wasn’t out of lack of commitment or really anything else, it was somewhere between sheer laziness and not really asking the question. You both had keys to each other's apartments and could come and go as you pleased, not to mention Peanut Butter adored Spencer, but it had never really passed through your thoughts to ask him to move in.

You brewed some coffee for you both and made his just how he liked it, ridiculous amounts of sugar. It was amazing he functioned throughout the day without getting any sort of sugar crash. He emerged from your room a few minutes later, pajama clad and his hair sticking up at funny angles from the sweatshirt he put on.

“Coffee too? What did I do to deserve you,” He kissed you again, taking the mug from you.

“That’s not all,” You grinned and stepped aside, revealing the muffin tray on the counter.

“Oh my God, muffins!” He ditched his coffee mug and grabbed one, shoving half of it in his mouth. “Ohh my God, the lemon poppyseed ones!” He said through a mouthful of muffin.

“Ew, Spence, that’s disgusting!” You laughed.

“Sorry,” He grinned through his muffin-filled mouth. You shook your head as you sipped your coffee.

You looked out at the balcony as the sky began to lighten. You went over and pulled the door open, plopping yourself on one of the fluffy couches. Spencer grabbed his coffee and followed you, shutting the door just after Peanut Butter sauntered out. You patted your lap and he jumped up, purring. Spencer pet him gently, sitting snugly beside you. You leaned against him and took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You opened them to see Spencer staring down at you, a goofy smile forming on his face.

“What, Muffin Boy?” You laughed, wiping away a crumb from his cheek.

“Just looking at you, you look so beautiful in this light.” You blushed. Despite being together for just around 2 years, he still knew how to give you butterflies.

“I love you.” He kissed your head and looked out at the rising sun.

“I love you too.” You sat in silence for a little while, just watching as the sun lazily grew over the D.C horizon.

“Want to move in?” You broke the silence. Spence looked down at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Haven’t I basically done that already?” He asked.

“I mean yeah, but you’re still paying rent for your old place.”

“I would say I forgot, but I have an eidetic memory.” You giggled and Spencer grinned, happy to have made you laugh.

“So, what do you say?”

“Statistically couples who move in together have a higher chance of a successful marriage, whereas couples who get married and then move in together have a much higher divorce rate dependent on the age of the couple. So yes, I will move in.” Much to Peanut Butter’s chagrin, you sat up and turned around, locking Spencer in a passionate kiss. Before things could get too heated, Peanut Butter got jealous and swatted at your cheek. You and Spencer broke apart and looked at the small black cat, who just tilted his head.

“You are such a little asshole sometimes.” You said, staring him down. He stared back before turning around, sassily swishing his tail in your face before pausing at the door, and looking at you. Your jaw dropped at the attitude and Spencer let him inside, turning his attention back to you.

“I forgot, he’s so possessive over me.” Spencer grinned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Shut up.” You grabbed your mug and headed inside, shutting the door behind you and leaving Spencer laughing on the porch.

You left your empty mug in the sink and climbed into bed, Peanut Butter and Spencer joining you moments later. Spencer put the cat down on the bed and climbed into bed beside you, pulling you closer as Peanut Butter settled in the middle. Spencer placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and fell asleep with a smile on his face. Nothing more than a calm, domestic life with you was anything he ever wanted.

[hotpinkhoshi]

devour (m)

pairing: human!baekhyun x vampire!reader (f) genre: smut, paranormal warnings: mentions of blood, pain, monsters etc, explicit sex involving some slight dom/sub themes but not really. a lot of position switching, oral (m receiving), cursing  word count: 6.6k summary: you’re thirsty. so damn thirsty. and baekhyun is the only one that can give you what you want. it’s the last time, really the last time, you tell yourself.  a/n: hello my lovely amazing readers! thank you so much for being so patient with me these last several months, i know i haven’t been very consistent with my posting BUT i promise i’m trying. i started this piece about 3 weeks ago and my only goal was to finish it by the end of the month. thankfully i just barely finished in time! i hope you enjoy but first, a disclaimer: i haven’t read or watched anything about vampires in many years so i know there may be things that don’t technically make sense. vampire enthusiasts pls do not come for me, i did my best.  thanks to: all my followers, @jjinyounf for discussing vampire reproductive systems, & @flowerbeom​ and @jjpmoans​ for hyping me up and giving me love and encouragement whenever i need it, which is a lot!

Last time, you told yourself it was the last time. 

The last time you let Baekhyun into your apartment at half past three in the morning, so out of your mind starving that you could hardly even see straight. The last time you let him take you, command your body like it was no longer your own.

You should have known you were lying to yourself. 

You [3:28am]: are you up?

Baek [3:29am]: yea, why?

You [3:31am]: can you come over? 

After your last message, you got no response. Perhaps, you thought, he’d fallen asleep or worse, had no interest in being your blood bag for the night. You would be disappointed, but you wouldn’t blame him. 

You rolled over in bed, flopping onto your stomach as you buried your face into your pillow. Maybe you could simply push through and wait until morning, when Kyungsoo would be awake and able to help you. 

After you turned a few months ago, totally unexpectedly, it had flipped your world upside down. Kyungsoo found you, shivering and delirious by a dumpster where your fun little one night stand had left you. 

Kyungsoo was human, but he was the type of person that people trusted and allowed into their worlds, no matter who they were. As one of the general surgeons of the local hospital, he’d gotten himself into a position of substantial power over both the humans and the vampires of your city. He never used it as a weapon—only as leverage to keep the humans safe.

When he found you, he’d wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to his apartment, but you didn’t remember anything until many days later. Kyungsoo nursed you to health, providing you with a vampire crash course to prepare you for the rest of your life. Of eternity. 

Then he’d introduced you to some of his friends at a party after you were more comfortable, although you had yet to feed on a living human. There was a whole community of humans that got off on it, that lived for the pain and pleasure of letting a vampire feed on them. 

It was at this party that you met Baekhyun. He had a mischievous glint in his eye when Kyungsoo told him your name and left the two of you alone in the dimly lit, smoky club basement. Something about that look in Baekhyun’s eyes told you he knew you’d be his by the end of the night. 

The feeling, the taste, the pure ecstasy of finally consuming fresh blood was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, even when you were alive. Your senses were heightened as a vampire as it was, but as soon as his blood hit your tongue, it was like your world exploded into a million colors. 

But even though you’d been the monster drinking his blood, Baekhyun remained in control. He laid you out on his bed and pinned your wrists to the mattress with one hand, his other wrist pressed into your mouth as he forced you to feed. 

You whimpered and cried out when it was too much, when the overstimulation of his blood and the way he was rocking into you at a brutally rhythmic pace had you seeing stars. He never relented; only fucked you harder as you writhed under him. 

After that night, you never wanted anyone else. Baekhyun was the only man you wanted to feed from. With him, you didn’t feel like a monster. You didn’t feel like a thing, like a horror story to tell in the dark. 

He made you feel human again. 

Tonight, the thirst was too much to handle. It was clouding your mind and keeping you awake as you twisted and turned under the covers. You couldn’t tell if you were craving his blood or craving him, but you were too weak to care. 

You hated the thirst. It was like dehydration, tenfold. Your head hurt, your lips were dry no matter how many times you wet them, and all you could think about was warm blood sliding down your throat. It was maddening. 

The telltale sound of your apartment’s buzzer had you sitting up in bed, so quickly that it made your head spin, the noise signaling that you had a visitor down at the main entrance to your building. 

You scurried off the bed and hurried to the door, nearly running into it as you slid on the hardwood in your socks to let him in. You told yourself the eagerness to see him was only because you were thirsty, certainly nothing more.

As soon as you opened the door, you felt embarrassingly underdressed. 

Baekhyun had dyed his hair since you’d last seen him. It was now a silver blonde, perfectly messy and framing his stupidly beautiful features. He’d been out tonight, you realized. The glitter on his cheekbones gave it away. 

His hands were stuffed comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket with a faded graphic tee underneath, and expertly tailored black jeans practically painted onto his lower half. 

You tugged the hem of your T-shirt down, even though he’d already had you in positions that you hadn’t even thought were physically possible—vampire or not. For some reason, you still felt bare in front of him in your pajama shorts and oversized tee.

“Hmm,” Baekhyun hummed as he stepped inside, letting the heavy door close behind him. He smelled like smoke and rum. “Look at you. Is someone thirsty?”

You blinked, grateful that you were incapable of blushing. As ravenous and desperate for blood as you were, the way he looked you up and down made you feel small and shy. 

“Can I?” you asked, reaching for his wrist, half tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Uh-uh.” He stepped back just before your fingers brushed his skin. “You know that’s not how it works, baby. You still need to work for it.” 

If you wanted to, you could muster your strength and slam him into the door, dive for his neck and bleed him dry before he even realized what was happening. But you didn’t. You wanted this, you wanted to beg and plead until finally, he rewarded you. 

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, then dragged your tongue over the dry, cracking skin of your lips. “I’m so thirsty. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He seemed pleased by this, judging by the way his lips turned into a familiar smirk. “I know you will. Come on, let’s go sit down.” 

You followed him to the living room obediently, watching as he made himself comfortable on the couch. He shrugged his jacket off, revealing the expanse of his forearms down to his wrists, covered in bite marks in various stages of healing. 

All from you. 

If he had chosen to get his fix somewhere else, you wouldn’t have any reason to be envious or hurt. But it filled you with a sense of pride that he didn’t, that you were the only one he allowed to taste him. 

You moved to sit next to him, but Baekhyun stopped you. He took your hand, leading you to stand in between his parted legs. 

“Knees.” 

It took one word for you to drop to the carpet, your bare knees pressing into the old scratchy shag rug you’d had for ages. He kept your fingers in his palm, rubbing his thumb idly over the back of your hand. 

“Good girl.” With his other hand, he tucked your hair behind your ear, his wrist brushing against your cheek so that you could hear the pulse beneath his skin. 

“Baek…” you began, turning slightly until your nose brushed his skin. “Just a taste. Please.”

Baekhyun lifted your chin with his finger and locked eyes with you. You filled with warmth already, just one look enough to send your mind racing with images of everything you wanted from him. His blood was further down the list than you would have thought.

“Just a taste,” he repeated. 

With that, he let go of your hand and turned slightly to reach into the pocket of his discarded jacket. When he pulled out the shiny folded metal, you gulped hungrily. 

The pocketknife brandished with a metallic click. 

It wasn’t uncommon for humans to carry weapons these days. After all, vampires weren’t the only monsters that roamed the streets after dusk, and not all vampires were quite as friendly with humans as you were. 

Your eyes followed Baekhyun’s nimble fingers as he brought the very end of his knife to his middle finger, twisting the point into his fingertip until a spot of blood appeared. 

It took every bit of self control that you possessed not to reach out in desperation for his hand and bring it to your mouth. But you knew better—you knew if you broke, Baekhyun would stand up and walk out the door like you were less than nothing to him. 

He watched you with interest as he held his finger just out of your reach, eyes dancing with that mischievous stare he had when he teased you. You would despise it if you didn’t know that eventually, he always caved. 

Finally, when your mouth had gone dry and you could feel the warm tingle that meant your fangs were about to protrude, Baekhyun brought his index and middle fingers to your mouth. 

He slipped them past the parched skin of your lips, your entire world blooming as soon as his middle finger touched the center of your tongue. You moaned, eyes falling shut. 

“Look how needy you are,” he remarked after a beat. His voice was strained, though, as if watching your display of bliss was causing him physical pain. 

He let you go for a while, maybe half a minute, before he was removing his fingers from your mouth. You couldn’t help but whine, resisting every urge not to grab at his wrist to keep him there. 

With the small amount of his blood you’d been able to milk from his finger, you already felt renewed. A surge of energy coursed through you like you’d just been injected with adrenaline. 

“What do you say?” Baekhyun asked with a cocked brow. 

You swallowed, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. “Thank you.” 

Without a second thought, you reached for Baekhyun’s belt, fingers quickly undoing the metal buckle. Your ears picked up the quickening of his heartbeat from the moment you undid the button of his pants. 

It was no surprise that most vampire-human relationships, if not ending in death, ended in sex. Feeding, in your experience, was extremely sensual and instantly created feelings of arousal within both parties. It was almost better than sex, and when the two came together? It was euphoric. 

You were pleased to find him half-hard already by the time you got his zipper down, your hand wrapping around the length of him under the fabric of his briefs. Baekhyun inhaled sharply, holding his breath until you had pulled his cock from his underwear. 

Only a few seconds passed before you leaned forward, parting your lips to run your tongue along the underside of his member. Your eyes remained open, locked on Baekhyun’s face to gauge his reaction. 

He loved it, of course. 

With a groan, he tipped his head back, exposing his throat and sending a shockwave to your core. You wanted his throat, his neck, all of that fresh, warm blood pumping beneath his skin. But you wanted to taste it while he was inside of you. It would be worth the wait. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took his length into your mouth, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he hit the back of your throat. Unlike men you’d been with when you were human, Baekhyun made no effort to remain quiet. He was loud, and you loved it. 

If you had your way, all of your days would be filled with Baekhyun’s voice. His moans, his rough whispers in your ear, his laugh, his hums as he completed mundane tasks like wiping down the counters or tying his shoes. Deep down, you wanted it all.

“Good girl, that’s my girl,” he whispered, reaching forward to lace his fingers in your hair. He curled his hand into a tight fist, a deliciously sharp pain spreading across your scalp. 

You whimpered, lips wrapped tight and wet around him. He guided you back and forth for a while with his hand in your hair, muttering soft praises all the while. By the way his hips were twitching towards your face, you knew he was getting lost in the ministrations of your mouth. 

Baekhyun soon dropped his hand from your hair, signaling you to pull away, just in time for him to stand up and pull you to your feet. 

A squeak of surprise fell from your lips as he lifted you, hooking your legs around his waist in a simple, swift movement.

“Bed,” he said simply. 

Baekhyun carried you through your apartment as if it was his own, lips kissing and nipping at your neck as he dodged every obstacle between the two of you and the bedroom. He stopped once, in the hallway, to lean you into wall and roll his hips into your center. 

His name came out as a sigh. 

Then, finally, he dropped you onto the center of your bed. It was messy from your previous tossing around in the sheets from your thirst, but neither of you cared. Baekhyun reached for the comforter, knotted and piled together under your lower back, and easily tossed it off the bed to leave nothing but the sheets under you. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, chest heaving up and down, and ran his fingers through his hair. The look in his eyes had you squirming, ready for him to devour you in every way possible. 

“Are you still thirsty, baby?” 

Your heart clenched at the pet name, even though he always called you that, loving the way it sounded on his lips. You gulped, nodding as you batted your eyelashes. 

“Yes,” you admitted. 

“Take off your clothes,” he told you, hands reaching for his jeans, still unbuttoned, to push them down his legs. 

It took less than a second for you to obey, clutching the waistband of your shorts and shoving them off of you. You knew he liked when you kept your underwear on, just so he could use it to further torture you by keeping a layer between you. 

You slipped your thin T-shirt off, throwing it to the side and laying back into the mattress again. Baekhyun had removed his own shirt, leaving just his briefs from letting you see all of him. 

You could marvel at his body for hours—he was slender, but solid. He wasn’t much taller than you, but his shoulders were broad enough to make you feel protected in those rare moments when he held you in his arms. 

This time, though, you noticed something new. There was a handful of bruises and scratches marring his body, completely different from the puncture marks that your fangs left when you fed on him. Blinking, you furrowed your eyebrows, fingers reaching out. 

“What are-”

“No questions,” Baekhyun cut you off, reaching for your hands before they could reach their destination. His face softened, ever so slightly, when you quickly retreated, curling your hands up near your own chest. “We’re not here to talk, are we, baby?”

Just like that, he made you forget the suspicious marks on his chest, even one slash that looked particularly painful. Almost like he’d been cut by a knife.  

Watching the way he licked his lips as his eyes traveled down your body, slowly, so slowly, you were easily steered back to the task at hand. You dropped your hands to the sheets, digging your nails into the fabric as he overwhelmed each of your senses. 

Even from here, you could smell his blood. From here, you could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart, taste the alcohol and nicotine of his kiss. Your body was calling out to him and you weren’t sure how much longer you could deny what it needed. 

“Baekhyun,” you found yourself whining, hips squirming under his hungry gaze. 

His eyes snapped up to your face then, so much desire and pure lust in his stare that you felt a brand new surge of heat travel through your limbs. 

“Mm, first…” he pressed one knee down into the mattress, then the other, until he was hovering over you. “We have to see if you’re ready for me, don’t we?” 

Baekhyun led a painfully light touch down the middle of your chest with his index and middle fingers, between your bare breasts, and down the valley of your stomach at a pace that had you biting your tongue just to keep from begging him for the nth time. It would only further encourage him to play with you, of which you could only tolerate so much. 

You knew his moves by now, knew that he would trail those fingers down to your waist, over the elastic of your panties until he found the evidence of your arousal between your legs. You knew his moves, and he still had you whimpering the moment his fingers brushed your clit through your panties. 

Your toes curled into the sheets as you tried desperately not to show how crazy he was making you. He knew already, though, the moment he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and found wetness between your legs. 

“Oh,” Baekhyun said with a smirk, tongue running cheekily along his lower lip. “You’re dripping, Y/N. You’re this wet just from sucking me off?”

Again, you were grateful for your inability to blush. 

“Answer me,” he demanded suddenly, eyes turning dark just the way you liked them. 

“Yes!” you replied, hips canting up towards Baekhyun’s hand. “Yes, I’m this wet just from sucking you off.” 

Even after you closed your eyes, you were sure you could see the cocky smirk that was undoubtedly painted upon his lips. He lived for this, the feeling of absolutely owning you. You, an immortal, bloodthirsty, powerful woman despite how weak he made you. 

As his fingers delved lower, just until he could dip them into your entrance, you mewled and turned your cheek towards the pillow. “Please,” you breathed. 

Baekhyun’s lips brushed your neck. “Please, what?” 

“Want you… want-“ you sighed as his fingers pushed deeper, to his second knuckle. “Want you inside.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t surprise you when he finally gave in, but you couldn’t complain. Though he didn’t concede without a few deep pumps of his fingers, enough to have you gasping and close to ripping the sheets apart beneath you. 

Baekhyun slipped his fingers from you and stood from the bed, his hands pushing down his briefs without hesitation. He nodded at you once, motioning with his chin to the headboard behind you. 

“On your knees, and face the headboard.” 

Renewed with your need to feel Baekhyun inside of you, you easily flipped over onto all fours, that warm sensation in your gums warning you that your fangs would extend at any moment. You didn’t fight it, hoping that it wouldn’t be much longer until you would need them. 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun exhaled, just before you felt the bed shift with his weight as he moved behind you. “You’re beautiful, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing you like this.” 

You’re beautiful. 

The words echoed in your mind, though you knew they probably shouldn’t. He rarely complimented you so boldly, especially before he was inside of you, overwhelmed with pleasure and pain. Curling your hands into fists, you shoved your feelings down because you needed to. A survival instinct, really. 

Because if you fell for him, if you opened your heart, the odds were against you. You weren’t sure why he chose you, why you were the only one he allowed to feed from him, but you couldn’t let yourself see it as any more than a mutual transaction of pleasure.

Baekhyun snapped you out of your thoughts easily the moment he pressed up against you from behind, his hands molding down your sides until he could place them upon your hips. 

You hung your head between your shoulders, reaching your hands out to grip the wooden slats of your headboard. The anticipation was always the best, and worst, part of this. 

It almost scared you how well Baekhyun knew your body. He knew when he trailed his fingertips down between your shoulder blades that you’d shiver and bite your lip, using every ounce of willpower that you possessed not to beg him. Even though you were pretty sure that’s what he wanted. 

He knew when he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder, that you’d ultimately lose the battle with yourself and your dignity. You were hot, sweaty, and desperate. Desperate enough to give in and sob his name, squeezing your headboard so hard that you felt the wood splinter beneath your hands. 

Without another word, his lips still pressed to your skin, you finally felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance. You held your breath, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t drag it out any longer. 

Your wish was granted as he filled you in one long stroke, both of you releasing satisfied moans at the sensation. This... this was bliss. 

“How are you-” Baekhyun ground out through his teeth and squeezed your hips hard enough you’d probably bruise, if you could, “-always this tight? God.” 

His lips trailed across from one shoulder blade to the other, giving your body a moment to adjust to the girth of him, before he began to move. Just like every other time, he pulled sighs and moans from you that only his ears had ever had the privilege of hearing. 

“Oh, my god,” you breathed, your walls clenching around him each time he filled you, his pace making your head spin. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Baekhyun asked, voice low next to your ear. 

It took a few more thrusts for you to be able to catch your breath to answer him, your head spinning from the way he was fucking you. It didn’t matter how many times you had him, he always made you like this. Crazy, hungry, and weak. 

“Good, so… so good.” 

“That’s right,” Baekhyun answered, one hand drifting from your hip down between your legs to find your clit. “You’re taking me so well. Think you might get to feed a little earlier than normal tonight, baby.” 

You clenched around him once more at his words. Recently, Baekhyun had started making you wait longer and longer to taste him. The last time, you’d been teetering right on the edge of your second orgasm when he finally bared his neck to you.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world--no, that moment when his blood hit your tongue had sent you towards the most electric, trembling climax you’d ever had. But you had to admit your mouth was watering already at the thought of sinking your teeth into his skin sooner rather than later. 

“Please,” you begged, pushing your ass back towards him. “Please, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun rolled his fingers around your clit in circular motions, grunting as he thrusted hard, jolting you forward. You gasped and moaned, throwing your head back in ecstasy. 

“You want that, huh? You want me to fuck you while you drink from me?” He matched each stroke of his cock inside of you with the pace of his fingers, drawing tight circles between your legs. 

“Yes,” you answered, voice cracking. You didn’t just want it, you needed it. Your fangs were showing now, and you weren’t even sure at what point they’d finally protruded from your gums, a biological response to the thought that you would be needing them soon. 

Your world spun, briefly, as Baekhyun grabbed your hips and flipped you from your knees onto your back. It was quick, a move he’d pulled on you so many times you barely even noticed until he was pushing back inside of you. 

“Oh, look at you,” he said from above you. 

Now that you could see him, you could appreciate his rosy cheeks, the way his hair stuck to his temples, and the subtle way his shoulder muscles contracted each time he moved inside you. Holding himself up with one arm, he trailed his free hand down the side of your face and brushed his thumb over your lip. 

“You’re ready to feed, aren’t you, baby? So fucking needy. You think you deserve it?” The pad of his thumb slipped inside of your mouth, daring to trace over the shape of one of your fangs. 

All you could do was nod, the ability to actually speak coherent words completely lost on you at the moment. 

You waited, as patiently as you could while he was driving you insane, for Baekhyun to make the first move. You never reached for his arm first, never lunged for his neck or his shoulder, simply because you wanted him to have that control. 

Baekhyun leaned down, his lips trailing kisses from your chin up to your jaw, until he nipped at your earlobe. “Go ahead, pretty. Take what you want.” 

The next time he filled you completely with his cock, you finally sunk your teeth into Baekhyun’s neck, that same spot that you had claimed as your own already. You whimpered as his blood filled your mouth, sliding down your throat. 

You reveled in the way he tasted and the sinful way he inhaled sharply at the initial bite before he let out a long, blissful moan. Your body was on fire now, so consumed in Baekhyun and the way he felt buried this deep inside of your heat. It was like you were invincible. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him into you easily. It was different when you fed from him like this. You had to be careful, control yourself so that you didn’t hurt him too badly, but it tasted so damn good. 

Before you could get carried away, you forced yourself to pull back, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. Even though you were no longer feeding, you felt the effects of his blood rushing through your body already. 

It was electric and overwhelming in the best possible way, heightened even more so by the way Baekhyun fit inside of you and stretched you so perfectly. The entire room had brightened around you as if somebody had switched on a light. 

When you were finally able to focus on the man above you, you were pleased to find that he looked just as fucked out as you felt. His arms shook, for a moment, maybe from the quick loss of blood or just the sheer pleasure of it all.

Taken by a moment of bravery, you used your legs hooked around his hips to roll your bodies over so that you could settle on top of him and let him rest for a moment. His wound would heal quickly—something to do with the healing properties of your saliva, according to Kyungsoo—but you knew he’d need a beat to regain his strength. 

The moment he filled you completely, you took in a shuddering breath and planted your hands on his chest. Baekhyun stared up at you, eyes filled with awe, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t find the words. 

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, licking your lips once again. “I want to make you - make you feel good,” you admitted. 

Baekhyun’s hands found your thighs, pale and smooth, and dug his fingertips into your skin. Slowly, those fingertips trailed up to your hips to pull you closer, forcing you into a rocking motion atop of him. 

“Go on, then,” he breathed. “Make me feel good.” 

It occurred to you then that you’d been in this position with him only once before, and it only lasted a couple of minutes before he flipped you onto your back and took over control. This time, though, you wanted to take it until the end. You wanted him to see just a shred of the power you could have over him. 

Maybe you didn’t realize it until now, but you knew Baekhyun’s body just as well as he knew yours. 

You knew when you rolled your hips just right, he’d groan and his eyes would flutter closed as he fought not to thrust himself further inside of you. You knew his hands would start to roam, squeezing and groping at the smooth flesh of your hips and stomach. 

Not until Baekhyun had you learned to appreciate a man’s hands on you without feeling self conscious or try to cover up. Maybe because Baekhyun owed you nothing, there was no reason for him to lie to you or tell you what you wanted to hear. With his hands and his lips, he painted his honest truth on your body without saying a word. 

You started to lose yourself more and more with each roll, each circular grind of your hips on top of him, letting your needy moans fill the room along with his.

“Just like that,” Baekhyun praised, both hands holding firmly onto your waist. “Tell me, who makes you feel this good?”

You pressed your hands more firmly into his stomach and opened your eyes, only a little surprised to find him staring up at you again as if he was trying to drink in every inch of your body. 

Just when you were about to answer, Baekhyun bucked his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you—deep enough to make you shiver and lose any and all words that could have gone through your mind. 

“I-” you started, fighting the urge to close your eyes. With the way he was looking at you, you knew that Baekhyun wanted your eyes on him. “Y-you,” you could only whisper. 

“I said,” he said, through his teeth, surprising you as he sat up underneath of you so that your chests were flush together. “Who makes you feel like this?” 

“You, you, you,” you cried, feeling the familiar heat building in your belly and spreading down towards your thighs. “Baekhyun, oh, fuck…” 

“Mmm,” Baekhyun hummed, pleased, pulling you even closer to him. “Such a good girl. You know exactly who you belong to, don’t you? No one else can ever have you like this.” 

Even as far gone as you were, something about his words made you shiver, mind racing with all the ways he could mean those words. You’d accepted that you wanted more from him, more than a late night fuck and feed, but what if he felt the same way?

“No one.” 

Baekhyun pressed the words onto your lips. You clawed at his shoulders, not caring if you marked him, if you left scratches to match the mysterious half-healed slashes across his torso. You wanted him to belong to you, too, if only in one way. 

The kiss sent you closer to your high as your thoughts got the best of you, imagining what your life might be like if you could belong to each other. 

Maybe you could wake up next to him someday, help him with breakfast by frying the bacon while he mixed pancake batter. Or you could fall asleep curled up into his side, hand pressed to his chest, counting his heartbeats. 

“Close,” you whispered. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Baekyun pulled back first from the kiss, one hand in your hair and the other helping you keep your pace, gripped possessively around your hip.

When you finally tumbled over the edge, you could only speak incoherent mumbles and whispers of pleasure into the crook of his neck as your body bowed forward into him. 

Fireworks exploded behind your vision with your climax, a feeling you should have been used to by now, but you still found yourself practically blacking out every time. It was stronger, more powerful since you became a vampire. Like every cell of your body was exploding and putting itself back together again. 

“I got you, pretty, I’m here,” you heard Baekhyun whisper as he thrust into you from below, fucking you through the intense waves of your orgasm. 

The feeling returned to your fingertips what felt like an hour later, even though it was probably only a minute or two, and you found yourself able to open your eyes. You blinked a few times to let your eyes refocus, taking in the sight of Baekhyun so close to you, so close to his peak. 

“Baekhyun, I can’t-” you gasped, willing your trembling thighs to move so you could resume your movements on top of him. It was no use—you just didn’t have the strength. 

Baekhyun moved quickly, easily flipping your positions so that he was above you once more. He remained on his knees, grabbing one of your pillows to shove under your lower back. From this angle, he could wrap your legs around his waist and grind into you at the perfect angle. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, hands scrambling to clutch the sheets underneath of you. All you could do was watch him, devour him with your eyes the same way you had devoured him with your mouth. 

From the moment you met him, you’d thought he was beautiful. It always struck you as unfair that he appeared to be without flaws, as if you had dreamed him up. He just simply couldn’t be real. And if he was real, it was a miracle he wanted anything to do with you. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Baekhyun said through gritted teeth. He was losing control, moving closer and closer to the edge with each deep thrust.

Your fingers squeezed and tugged at the sheets beneath your hands, the only thing you had the physical strength left to do. “Please,” you whined. “I wanna feel you come inside me.”

It didn’t take much longer, only a few more perfect rolls of his hips before he came with a loud, shuddering groan. You felt him spill inside of you, liquid heat that felt like it was never ending. This was your favorite part. It was the closest you could ever feel to him, surrounded in every way. 

Once he had come down, Baekhyun fell forward on top of you, catching himself on his forearms. He breathed deep and heavy, face buried between your neck and your shoulder. You found yourself stroking his back, tracing words into his skin that you couldn’t say out loud. 

When he finally rolled off of you, he didn’t go far, just flopped onto his side next to you. Your breath caught in your throat when he pulled you closer, one arm around your back and the other grazing your shoulder. 

Outside the window, you heard the morning birds begin their chirping. It was easier to focus on their melody than just how close Baekhyun was. Close enough to hear his pulse, quick and strong. 

“You okay?” he asked, nose nudging your jaw. “You get enough?” 

You swallowed, suddenly remembering the whole reason Baekhyun had come over in the first place. Because you both had an itch that needed to be scratched—nothing more. 

“Yeah,” you replied weakly. “I got enough.” 

But he didn’t move, just let his lips rest softly against your neck. It had never been like this before. Soft, quiet, sweet. 

“Why do you only let me feed from you?” you found yourself asking, hand on his chest gently pushing him back. “Why me?” 

Baekhyun’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” you sighed, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. “All your feeding marks are from me. I’m the only one, right?” 

Leaning up onto his elbows, Baekhyun could only shrug as if you’d asked him if he liked sugar in his coffee. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I like you,” Baekhyun offered. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked. Had you heard him wrong? Did he mean it… like that? 

“You like me,” you repeated. 

Baekhyun had the nerve to laugh, just a light, airy chuckle. “That’s what I said. Why am I the only one you feed from?” 

Gulping, you tore your eyes away from him and shook your head. You wanted to deny it—but you both knew it was true. You’d never told him as much, but you wouldn’t be so desperate for him if you could easily get it somewhere else. Correction: you could have, you just didn’t want to.

“Because I like you.” 

When you looked back at Baekhyun, he was grinning, the light catching on the glitter still smeared across his cheeks. He pushed himself to sit up, reaching for your hands. He tugged you closer to him. 

“Yeah? You sure you don’t just like my delicious, mouthwatering blood?” 

You scoffed and shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “It’s not that delicious.” 

Baekhyun laughed again, and this time you had to join him. It felt like it was too good to be true, him wanting you the way you wanted him. You wanted to pinch yourself, just to make sure you hadn’t blacked out and imagined this whole conversation. 

“Since that’s settled,” Baekhyun said, fingers grazing up your arm, your throat, until he was lifting your chin. You saw his affection for you in his eyes, so obvious it made you wonder if you’d been missing it all along. 

When his lips touched yours, it was a kiss unlike any other you’d shared with him before. Deep and slow, like you had all the time in the world. You sighed into his mouth, letting his lips quiet every worry you had racing through your brain. 

“Stay the night,” you said softly once you parted from him. 

Baekhyun smirked, pressing his forehead into yours. “It’s already morning.” 

You glanced at the window, noting the soft glow of the sunrise behind your curtains. “Oh. Never-”

“I’m kidding,” he cut you off, stroking his fingertips across your cheek. “Only if you promise to cook breakfast for me when we wake up. You do eat, right?”

“Yes,” you said with a laugh. “I eat. I don’t need to, but I love food too much not to.” 

“That’s my girl,” he replied in a low tone, giving you goosebumps. 

In order to keep yourself from jumping his bones, you pulled from him and climbed off the bed, searching for the comforter Baekhyun had thrown off the mattress when you’d first laid down. Once you found it, you settled on top of the sheets with him, pulling the blanket over top of your bodies. 

Your memories from before you turned were a blur. Some things you could remember, but it was like they’d happened to somebody else. You knew you’d had a series of unsatisfying one night stands, a couple of boyfriends, and a handful of crushes. You remembered the face of the man who turned you, but not his name or how it happened. A blessing, Kyungsoo told you. 

And although you couldn’t remember the faces of any of your past lovers, you knew without a doubt in your mind that you would never forget Baekhyun. 

You realized as he brought you into his arms that he didn’t just make you feel human, he made you feel like the girl you’d been before. 

[evening-starlight]

Warm Beers

Taglist is OPEN! Dm or comment to be added.

Posting Schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday

This is placed before Season 1

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

10

Word count: 1038

    A light tapping pulls Kenzie out of her light slumber. She mumbles curses under her breath, and looks around the room after the tapping stopped. There was nothing in the room that would make such a noise. Kenzie is about to lay back down, thinking it was just a vivid dream, when it starts again, from her window.

    Two-one-two. It was JJ and Kenzie's special knock. She pulls herself out of bed and ventures to the window, forgetting she wore only an old shirt of JJ's and a pair of John B.'s boxers. A yawn leaves her as she opens up the window, stepping back to let JJ climb in. "J, what time is it?" She asks. Her eyes are still blurry from sleep and take a second to adjust. When they do, she gasps softly at JJ's appearance.

    His left eye has started to bruise, and his lip is busted, blood still actively streaming down his chin. "Hey, Princess," JJ tries to smile but whines as it pulls at his cut. "Think you can play doctor for the night?"

    Kenzie sighs and grabs JJ's hand, pulling him out of her room, down the hall, and towards the bathroom. He sits on the toilet lid and watches as Kenzie gets the medical supplies from under the cabinet. Her messy hair framed her sleepy face, and the sleeping attire just pulled the whole ensemble together. Even though she was half asleep, Kenzie was breathtaking.

    JJ can't pull his eyes away from Kenzie as she concentrates. Her tongue sticks slightly out of the corner of her mouth while she searches under the sink for antiseptic. Kenzie tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, making JJ's heart skip a beat. She looked perfect.

    Kenzie knew all too well who did this to JJ, and her blood boils at the mere thought of it. Luke was nothing more than an ungrateful asshole towards his only son. As she gets her supplies, she thinks of all the things Kenzie wished she could do to Luke for hurting her best friend like this.

    "This is gonna sting, J," Kenzie warns when she levels with JJ, wet cotton pad in hand. Her voice is soft and quiet, trying to calm JJ down. JJ nods slowly, watching her delicate hands bring the pad up to his lip. The stinging sensation causes JJ to hiss and grip onto Kenzie's hip for grounding. "I know. I'm sorry, Hun," Kenzie whispers, using her free hand to brush through JJ's unbrushed hair. She hated this part the most; when she hurt JJ. It was for the best, so he wouldn't get an infection. But it still hurt to see her being the cause of JJ's pain.

    "It's fine," He mumbles, catching her eyes again. Those gorgeous green eyes could ground JJ in seconds. And they do. JJ can feel a sense of calmness take over, making him close his eyes and his shoulder relax.

    "We're almost done, J," Kenzie reassures. JJ hums gently and keeps a hand on her hips. His eyes peel open when he feels her breath against his lips. She stares behind him, trying to grab something she set there. "Hey." Kenzie's voice is so quiet, JJ almost misses it.

    "Hi," JJ replies, voice just as quiet. They stay in the position for what feels like forever, lips only seconds away from meeting. Both of their hearts beat heavily in their chest, anticipation driving them insane. JJ's forehead starts to sweat, and Kenzie's hands grow clammy. "Whatcha doin'?" JJ finally breaks the silence, voice pressed.

    "I was reaching for a Hello Kitty band-aid," Kenzie explains, pulling away from JJ. They both giggle when Kenzie shows JJ his new Hello Kitty plaster. "See?"

    "If you think you're going to put that on me, you're delusional," JJ says, shaking his head. Kenzie giggles with a slight pout.

    "Please, JJ? I promise it'll make you feel better," She whines, already peeling the back of the plaster off. JJ sighs and closes his eyes again, no longer protesting. Kenzie gently presses the band-aid against his wound. "See, all better," Kenzie whispers before gently kissing the plastic.

    "Thanks, Doc," JJ jokes, standing up from the toilet. Kenzie giggles as well and starts to put things away.

    "You still have some clothes in my closet if you want to spend the night," Kenzie offers, avoiding JJ's stares. He leaves without another word, and Kenzie finishes her cleaning. Kenzie continues to think over what happened. About the poor broken boy who sat on her toilet just seconds ago.

    JJ hid behind a mask of jokes and weed, and very few people knew just how broken he was. Kenzie knew JJ trusted her with his life; he showed that to her every night something like this happened. But it didn't make it easier to see him in such a state.

    When she gets back to her room, JJ is sprawled out on her sheets. Kenzie lays on her side, staring at JJ. The bruising under his eye continues to darken, and the Hello Kitty band-aid catches the light coming from through the blinds from the street lights outside.

    "You know," JJ whispers. "It's considered rude to stare in many cultures." Kenzie giggles and scoots closer to JJ.

    "Shut up and come here," Kenzie says, laying on her back so JJ can rest his head on her chest. He shuffles closer to her and lays his head there. After brutal fights with Luke, JJ would always seek comfort with Kenzie. His favorite nights, as horrible as they start, always end with Kenzie's fingers in his hair and her heartbeat in his ear.

    "Thank you," JJ whispers, half asleep. His eyes grow heavier, and the world around him starts to fade away.

     "For what, J?" Kenzie asks. She focuses on her ceiling and continues to run her fingers through his hair. He could be thanking her for anything at this point. He was deliriously tired. He could even thank her for a beer she gave him three weeks ago.

    "Always being my friend," JJ mumbles before nuzzling his head against Kenzie's chest and falls asleep. Kenzie smiles to herself before letting sleep overtake her as well.

Taglist: @gwenlovesharrystyles @x-lulu @gviosca @cognacdelights​ @queenofallhobos​

[boytumms]

Its 5am and I'm miserable. Here's why.

2 days ago I ordered some Popeyes- 6 HUGE pieces of chicken, 2 boxes of fries, 8 biscuits, and mashed potatoes. I ate 2 pieces of chicken, a whole box of fries, 4 biscuits, and half the cup of mashed potatoes (damn that shit was good) on Saturday. So, no problem the first night. I finish ALL the food on Sunday and again I felt totally fine, until 10pm that is...

I wake up because I can't fall asleep for some reason, but I credit that to the 2 cans of energy drink I had today (my body is like hyper sensitive to caffeine). Then I start SWEATING. I'm trying to listen to music to calm myself down but it's not working. In the middle of a DangeloWallace video my belly starts cramping like all HELL like I've NEVER had a stomach ache this bad before. It's making hella noise too and all I can do is put a pillow on my stomach and lean over it (I had been delirious with nausea and pain for 2 hours at that point so don't question my questionable decisions aksvqkdvwi). I'm unreasonably scared of vomiting so I'm trying not to burp but that's keeping more gas inside and making me bloateddd and it's not coming out the other way either. So I have my left hand on my stomach, desperately trying to rub out the cramps, and my right hand holding my phone, scrolling through my fyp on tiktok (pay attention to that). Soo shit starts to hit the fan now. Maybe 10 minutes later (I wasn't keeping track of time) this HUGE cramp just hit me like an 8 wheeler and I audibly yell and double over even more than I already am. So in the midst of all that my sociopath of a digestive system decides it's rewind time and when I tell you my stomach ROLLED likeee there are no words to describe it. I sprint to the bathroom with my left hand still on my mess of a tummy buttt I kind of forgot that my right hand was occupied by my phone. So, in my haste to open the door, I drop my phone. And. It. C r a c k s. I'm in too much pain to register this at the moment so I just run into the bathroom and heave over the toilet for what felt like an hour but was probably 20 minutes. Nothing comes up and my belly hurts so bad that I'm crying...that's when I take initiative. As much as I hate this I take my index and middle finger and press on the back of my throat and I'm just gagging until I hit the jackpot! It's only a little bit at first but then my body finished the tutorial and speedran STRAIGHT to the final boss and I threw up literal chunks of food 🤢. After the fiasco is over I actually do feel a bit better but now I'm shaking and can barely lift my arm. Despite this I crawl back into bed and try to get some sleep. I figure that's not actually gonna happen though so I reach for my phone to scroll some more and then it hits me. As fast as I can I run to the bathroom and pick up my phone. Fast forward to now and I am typing on an Android with a cracked screen to pass the time cause there's no way in hell I'm going back to sleep. So yeah, thank you for listening to my TedTalk.

Holy cow dude, what a wild ride akdnkandkandkans

This sounds so painful but really hot haha, thanks for sharing :) All that food was just sitting in your poor stomach like a rock until you got sick! I would love to be there to rub your tummy and help you throw it all up <3 and after your tummy is empty again, we could start all over again…

[joheunsaram]

That one pictute of cat yoongi, you know what I'm talking about

Moonlight - jjk x myg (platonic)

Summary- Jungkook never thought this was the secret Yoongi was keeping all this time.

word count- 1k

pairing- idol!Yoongi x idol!Jungkook (platonic)

rating- PG13

genre- crack, fluff

warnings- swearing

a.n- Well this is what is is LOL I hope you like it Kas 😘 

GO SUPPORT THE ARTIST OF THE ART THAT INSPIRED THIS PIECE. @_hanasart on insta :)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

Jungkook walked into the dorms thoroughly exhausted with Yoongi in tow. His body felt like it weighed a tonne, muscles aching and bones creaking with each move. Ignoring the pain, he rushed towards the black leather sectional in the middle of the living room, his body craving its soft embrace. However, he had barely reached the couch when Yoongi unceremoniously plopped on it with a long winded groan. 

“Hyung! I saw it first!” Jungkook yelled, as he tried to unsuccessfully budge Yoongi off the couch. He knew he could just walk the few meters to his own bed but this wasn’t fair. He saw it first!

“I’m older. My body’s weaker,” Yoongi muttered, already half asleep, a hand dangling from the couch that he lazily waved in the air to make his point. 

Sometimes Jungkook hated being the youngest. He always had to clean up after everyone, always had to wait for his hyungs to go anywhere even when he was the first to be ready to leave, and don’t even get him started on the endless teasing. He didn’t realize why everyone was always so hung up on his age; he was just as capable as everyone else! 

He scowled as he looked at Yoongi’s unmoving form, knowing the elder had already happily drifted off to sleep. His annoyance dissipated, however, as he saw Yoongi’s cheeks puff a little as he exhaled and he couldn’t be mad at him. He kinda looked cute sleeping like that, the moonlight filtering through the clouds into the room and illuminating his skin in a somewhat ethereal glow. Shaking his head with a soft smile, he walked to the hallway closet to grab a blanket for the sleeping rapper. Why did all his hyungs have to be so endearing? 

Just as he was about to drape the blanket over him, Yoongi suddenly woke up, startled. Sitting up, he checked his pockets for his phone, even going to the extent of turning the pockets of his sweatpants inside out for the mobile device. He rubbed his hands over his face in a panic, almost growling angrily, as he jumped up in frustration.

“Jungkook, what day is it?” He asked, his left hand fiddling with his sweats as his anxiety built.

“Wednesday…?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, not understanding his older friend’s sudden hysterics.

“No. Month. Day of the month!” Yoongi yelled through gritted teeth, fists balled as he tried to keep his composure.

“28th… Hyung what’s wron-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Yoongi was in a rage, sitting on the couch and punching his leg. Jungkook had never seen him so distraught and his heart raced as he saw Yoongi pull at his hair in frustration. What was happening? “Jungkook you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“About what?”

“Answer me!” Yoongi seethed.

“Okay, okay! Jeez, relax hyun- OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK?”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his eyes, his heart beating against his ribcage as if it wanted to escape. This was not real. This could not be real. How was this real?

In place of where Yoongi sat moments ago, now sat a cat, its fur the same colour as Yoongi’s silver hair, peering at him from under his oversized t-shirt, and Jungkook was panicking. His hyung was a cat. He was a cat. He had seen the memes, but to actually see the acclaimed producer purring on his couch was insane. Had he always been a cat? Was the Yoongi he knew a figment of his imagination? Or was Jungkook having a mental breakdown? Was he imagining this? How was this even possible? He knew he shouldn’t have done that extra hour of cardio today, his exhaustion was making him delirious.

With great trepidation, he approached Yoongi (cat Yoongi? Yoongi cat?), settling on his knees in front of him with his hand out as if in greeting, waiting for him to make a move. The cat only hissed at Jungkook, startling the younger man to fall back, as it purred in a way that distinctly sounded like Yoongi’s snicker.

“Hyung…” Jungkook began, petting the cat behind its ears as it nuzzled into his tattooed hand. “You’re so cute!” he exclaimed as the cat looked up at him, its expression Yoongi’s signature deadpan. Jungkook’s heart felt so full, he thought he was going to combust. He didn’t know how this was even possible, all he knew was that Yoongi was the most adorable little kitty he had ever seen.

Tentatively picking up the cat, he gingerly placed it on his lap, cooing at it and petting it slowly as his eyes got heavier. The presence was comforting, much like Yoongi himself, lulling Jungkook into a sleep full of dreams of a cute silver haired cat playing with a ball of yarn.

In the morning Jungkook woke up to Yoongi accidentally punching him on the nose as he stretched. It was probably rude to say but as he saw his friend chuckling at his pained expression, he kind of wished he was a cat all the time and human only during full moons.

“I liked you better as a cat,” Jungkook groaned, rubbing his nose as the ache in his back from sleeping sitting up started registering.

“Well sucks to be you,” Yoongi taunted, scratching his belly as he walked towards the kitchen. Turning back he narrowed his eyes at the younger boy, lifting a finger in his direction. “If you tell anyone I-”

“You’ll kill me,” Jungkook finished the sentence for him. “Yeah, yeah I got it, lil meow meow.”

“Fuck you kid,” Yoongi said rolling his eyes as he started the coffee maker, the gurgling of the motor accompanied by the sweet roasted notes of his favourite Brazillian blend.

“Awww are you going to scratch me?” Jungkook teased, smiling widely and booping Yoongi on the nose, as he reached into the cabinets to pull out two mugs. Funnily enough, one had a drawing of a cat flipping off whoever looked at it. Jungkook placed it in front of Yoongi with a grin.

Yoongi had never hated losing his phone more.

-

Like this? For more fics of mine check out my masterlist!

[wellthatwentbetterthanexpected]

We’re brothers now

“I don’t care Sam” Bucky said, placing a wet cloth over his shivering partner, “we’re brothers now, this is what we do”

Or - Sam and Bucky are on a mission when Sam comes down with a fever and Bucky takes care of him, and Sam whinges about being a grown ass man.

Set after the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Nothing could ever be simple nowadays. This was meant to be a simple recon mission. In and out they said. No more than 48 hours they said.

Well it was now hour 49 and Bucky was still sat in a dodgy motel. Sam was sprawled out on the bed, blanket cocooning him whilst he shivered violently. They were meant to have left a few hours ago, but when Bucky woke up to his partner delirious from fever and coughing like a 90 year old asthmatic life long smoker he knew they weren’t going anywhere that day, except may the hospital if the said fever doesn’t break soon.

Bucky sighed for the hundredth time that morning as he got up to soak the towel in cold water again, returning to the bedside to carefully run the cooling towel over Sam’s sweat soaked brow and neck. Reaching for the thermometer again he checked his partners temperature, the same way he’s been doing every 30 minute for the last 4 hours.

103.8 - shit.

He knew he had to go and get something to bring Sam’s fever down, but he didn’t want to risk Sam waking up alone. Last time he woke up he had no idea where he was, who Bucky was, or what they were doing in a dingy motel together. It took Bucky nearly 45 minutes of batting of Sam’s feeble attempts to fight him and calm explanation for Sam to get with it enough to know who he was and that he was safe. And when that realisation occurred he’d simply collapsed into Bucky’s arms, his body finally feeling secure enough to pass out. That was 2 hours ago, when his fever was only 102.5, so God knows what he’d be like when he came round this time.

Glancing at the clock, it was now 9am. The motel staff would be around now, and Bucky decided the risk was worth the benefit. He slowly and quietly stood up and slid out of the door, glancing back to his still sleeping partners, before heading down to the main desk. A young woman sat there, no more than 24. She eyed him up and down, the usual mix of intrigue and wariness.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes ma’m. Where’s the nearest shop that should stock something for a fever?” Bucky asked, smiling politely and making himself look as non threatening as possible.

“Well that would be at Gordy’s corner shop, but I have some on me here if you’d like? Save you the trip. We can here your... fellow roommate coughing from down the hallway. He sounds like he needs it.”

She hands him a packet of pills, which he accepts gratefully, his smile now genuine.

“Thank you,” he looks at her name tag, “Isabella.”

He walks back to the room, by the end of the corridor he can hear Sam hacking up a lung. He sped up a little, and as he entered the room he was surprised to find that Sam wasn’t in bed. Shutting the door behind him he looked around for the location of the hacking, and his eyes landed on Sam, crouched in the corner of the room, gun aimed straight at Bucky’s head. Fuck, he should have removed the ammunition the minute Sam showed signs of delirium.

Bucky slowly raised his hands in the air in surrender, trying to make himself as small and un-threatening as possible when you’re a massive, muscular, super soldier with a less than inconspicuous metal arm.

“Sam.”

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“Sam, it’s Bucky.” He said, trying to make eye contact with Sam, who was now attempting to stand. As he wobbled dangerously Bucky took a step towards him. Wrong move. Sam trained the gun so the aim was directly between his eyes.

“Where am I?” Sam repeated, his voice breaking as he fights back a cough.

“In a motel. In Chicago. With me, Bucky. We’ve just finished a mission and we were going to leave earlier this morning but you’re sick.”

Sam looked at him with fever glasses eyes, the cogs in his head turning as he tried to follow what was being said.

“Buck?” He asked after a moment, lowering the gun.

“Yeah bud, it’s me.” He replied, stepping across the room and removing the gun from Sam’s hand, emptying the bullets into a dresser draw.

Bucky placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, guiding him back to the bed.

“Back to bed with you Cap, you need to take these pills then go back to sleep.”

Sitting Sam on the edge of the bed he passed him the glass of water from the bedside table, and pulled the pills out of his pocket, popping two into Sam’s outstretched shaking hand. He downed them in one before collapsing into the bed. Bucky lay the blanket over him, just about refraining from tucking him in like a child.

Sam was asleep almost instantly, worn out from his little half arsed assassination attempt on Bucky. Bucky moved the desk chair back across the room and placed it beside Sam’s bed, taking up the position he’d sat in ever since Sam’s temp had gotten me over 103. He opened his phone and put his headphones in one ear, and continued watching the YouTube videos that Steve kept sending him now he had so much free time, being retired and all.

No more than half an hour later, Sam started coughing. There was no ease into it, he was suddenly spluttering and hacking. He tried to push himself upright but he was coughing too hard. Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him into the sitting position, keeping his grip on him to stop Sam simply falling over. With his metal arm he gently rubbed circles on Sam’s back, hoping to both reassure and ground the newly titled Captain America. He didn’t fancy another delirious attempted murder scenario. It took a few minutes but Sam was able to take some ragged breaths without coughing. He looked to Bucky weekly.

“You know who I am?” He asked.

Sam have a weak smile, “the pain in my ass that won’t go away?” He rasped, his attempt at humour squashed by another round of coughing.

Bucky handed him the cup of water, which Sam sipped gratefully before flopping back down onto the pillows. Bucky took this as a chance to grab the thermometer and shove it in his ear, earning a feeble glare from Sam.

“101.8, well that’s better. Not great, but better.” Bucky said.

Sam hummed a response, already falling back to sleep. Bucky used this as his chance to cool his partner down further. He went to the bathroom and wet the towel with fresh cold water, before returning to his bedside vigil. He wiped the sweat off of Sam’s brow and neck again.

“Buck I’m a grown ass man.”

“You’re sick.”

“You don’t have to do this, I’m not dying, I’m just sick.”

“I want to help. And I’m not 100% sure on the not dying thing yet you know, best to have someone keeping an eye on you.”

Sam groaned, “ Please just leave me be, this’ll be super embarrassing when I’m with it again.”

“I don’t care Sam” Bucky said, placing a wet cloth over his shivering partner, “we’re brothers now, this is what we do”

Sam huffed a little, but it was completely void of true indignity, as the cooling of the towel pushed him back into sleep.

Bucky sighed, picking his phone up once again. Maybe no was the time to investigate the ebook app he’d downloaded, as it seemed like they wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

[honey-dewey]

Superheroes Don’t Take Sick days

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,190

Warnings: Marcus gets sick with the flu and suffers the symptoms, including vomiting and passing out. 

Marcus rarely gets sick. However, when he does, it’s bad. Very bad. Plagued by the flu, he has no one to turn to. No one except his PA and significant other, who demands he goes home to rest. When he refuses, they decide to take matters into their own hands. 

“Mr. Moreno?” You knocked on the door to Marcus’s office, a stack of folders cradled in your arms. “Mr. Moreno?” 

“Come in.” 

You kicked the door open with your foot, doing your best to balance the various paperworks. Marcus lifted his head off his desk, staring at you. “How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Marcus?” 

“We are at work,” you pointed out, setting the folders on Marcus’s desk. “At work, I address you formally. Because it is, say it with me now, a formal work environment.” 

Marcus grumbled under his breath, opening the folder on top. “Huh. This is,” 

“A lot?” You finished for him, leaning on the edge of the desk and examining Marcus. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped in and head bowed slightly. His glasses sat on the desk next to his phone, both of which were smudged to the high heavens. You grabbed his glasses and instinctively began to clean them, knowing he hated doing it himself. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yep!” Marcus said, leaning back and pressing his palms into his eyes. “Just tired. Missy was up all night, and so was I.” 

You put Marcus’s glasses down. “Oh no! What happened?” 

Marcus shrugged. “She’s just sick.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s sick,” you repeated, a familiar exasperation in your voice. You loved Marcus a lot and knew that he was super smart, but sometimes he could be really thick when it came to common sense.

“Yeah?” Marcus looked up at you, clearly confused. “Why are you using that tone?” 

“Marcus,” you said plainly. “You are also sick. Go home.” 

“I’m not sick!” Marcus insisted, putting his glasses on and moving closer to his desk.

You nodded, sliding off his desk. “I’m going to go grab Dr. Thirteen. We’ll see who’s right.” 

The walk down to the medical wing of the building was quick, considering it was just below the offices. The doctor, a wonderful young blonde woman with an accent so thick you could hardly understand her half the time, agreed to come with you to check Marcus out. 

“He did seem rather under the weather earlier,” she said as you two walked. “Came in asking for DayQuil.” 

You swore under your breath. “I swear, if he’s got something serious I will murder him.” 

Thirteen laughed, opening Marcus’s office door. “Oh boy.” 

Marcus looked up, yet again, from his desk. He’d been using his arms as a pillow, glasses off once more. “Hey Thirteen.” 

“Marcus,” Thirteen chided, going over to stand next to him. He kicked his chair around so he was facing her, letting her do her job. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Uh.” Marcus looked from her to you and back again. “Like shit?” 

Thirteen sighed, taking her stethoscope out of her coat pocket and setting it around her neck. “Feverish?” She asked, resting her wrist against Marcus’s forehead. 

“Little bit.” 

“Cough?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Congested?” 

“Definitely.” 

Thirteen made a face. “Nausea?” 

Marcus started to get nervous, hands twisting in his lap. “Yes?” 

“Okay.” Thirteen looked at you. “Take him home, by any means necessary. I’ll tell the boss, but he’s on medical leave for the next week, with recommended bed rest for forty eight hours.” 

“What?” Marcus said. “But I don’t feel that bad.” 

Thirteen shrugged. “You will. You have the flu, which is unsurprising given the season.” 

“Oh.” Marcus looked at his desk, eyeing the folders stacked up on it. “Can I stay and finish my work?” 

“No,” you and Thirteen said at the same time. 

Marcus sighed. “Fine. I’ll go home. Coming with?” He directed the last question at you, and you nodded. 

“Of course. If Missy’s sick too, then someone has to be there to take care of you. Also, I don’t want you driving.” 

You managed to herd Marcus to the car with little issue, but he really didn’t look good. You had to repeat yourself three times when you asked him to put his seatbelt on, and he kept getting paler and paler until you were actually really worried. 

“We’re gonna make a stop at CVS,” you said, turning into the parking lot. “If you go in, you have to wear a mask.” 

Marcus, ever the stubborn hero, staggered to his feet and went somehow even paler, the last bit of color draining from his face as he wobbled in place. 

“And we’re gonna leave you here,” you said, standing in front of him and crossing your arms. 

“But,” Marcus said, his voice thick with congestion. 

You cut him off before he could continue. “You wanna walk by yourself through CVS? Okay, let’s see it then.” You positioned yourself barely ten feet away, maybe three or four steps. Marcus shakily shuffled forward before almost toppling right over. You caught him, turning him back towards the car. 

“No, put your hand- oh my god! Marcus!” 

Marcus didn’t respond. He’d gone entirely limp in your arms, eyes rolled back. You got him back into the car, and by then, he’d woken back up, still delirious. 

“I’m going in,” you said slowly, buckling Marcus back in. “I am cracking the windows and locking the car. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” 

Just as promised, it was the fastest CVS run you’d ever made. Some Gatorade, medication, tissues, Clorox wipes, Lysol spray, and a few cans of soup later, you were back in the car. Marcus looked over, eyes half open. “Huh?” 

“If you’re like this,” you said, starting the car. “I hate to think what Missy’s like back home.” 

Missy was not as bad as Marcus. Laying on the couch, she barely had the energy to turn her head as you practically carried Marcus inside, but she was conscious, which you appreciated. “Dad?” 

You winced at her scratched up voice. “Hey honey,” you said, laying Marcus in his recliner. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like crap,” Missy admitted. “Dad said it was probably just the sniffles or something, but then it got worse.” 

Nodding, you handed Missy a box of tissues, nudging the trash can closer to the couch with your foot. “I don’t think it’s just the sniffles this time,” you said. “Where’s the thermometer?” 

You took Missy’s temperature. She was at 100.7, which you decided could’ve been so much worse. You gave her a decongestant and a Gatorade, rubbing her back as she coughed violently. 

“Marcus,” you said, standing. Marcus hummed in acknowledgment. 

“Here.” You handed him the thermometer. “Take your temperature.” 

You turned back to Missy, who was zoned out. “Missy, honey, let me clean your blanket.” 

She grumbled as you took the filthy blanket, muttering out that she was cold. 

“I know you’re feeling cold,” you said, tossing the blanket in the laundry. “But your blanket is dirty. I’ll grab you a clean one.” 

As you gave Missy a new blanket, you heard the thermometer beep, Marcus pulling it out of his mouth and looking at it. 

“Let me see,” you said, holding a hand out. 

Marcus tucked the thermometer to his side. “Just 100, like Missy.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Give me the thermometer.”

“But-“ 

“Marcus Moreno, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me that thermometer.” 

Marcus handed the thermometer over, a guilty look on his face. 

The thermometer read 101.5. 

“Marcus!” You scolded, putting the thermometer down and pressing your wrist to his forehead. Sure enough, he was burning up. “No wonder you passed out earlier!” 

Missy looked up. “He passed out?” 

“In the CVS,” you said, grabbing another blanket for Marcus. “No biggie.” You really didn’t want to worry her, even though it definitely was a big deal. 

By noon, everyone was sound asleep aside from you. You were sitting in the living room with a book, listening to Marcus’s and Missy’s labored breathing. Every so often, Missy would kinda wake up and shift, but Marcus remained solidly asleep until noon. 

You put your book down, hearing Missy wake up as you rummaged through the kitchen. Grabbing a saucepan and a can of soup, you began to make lunch. 

Missy trudged to her feet, joining you in the kitchen. “Hey.” 

“Hey sweetie,” you said, checking her temperature. “Your fever’s finally starting to break.” 

Missy perked up a bit at that. “Do I have time to go shower?” 

“Sorry,” you said, stirring the soup. “Nope. After lunch though, absolutely.” 

Missy ended up eating at the table, her blanket still around her shoulders. You, instead of joining her, did your level best to wake Marcus up. 

“Marcus.” You shook his shoulder slightly. “Marcus. Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my fucking life. Missy do not ever repeat that! Marcus! Christ, what the hell?” 

Marcus’s eyes cracked open. “The fuck?” He slurred. “Missy, don’t repeat that.” 

Missy snorted and left to go bathe. 

“I made lunch,” you said, holding up the bowl of soup you’d made for him. “Eat.” 

“Not hungry.” 

You raised an eyebrow, and yet again, Marcus shrunk back with that horribly guilty look. 

“Fine,” he said softly, taking the bowl and fumbling with his spoon. You were on standby, which was a good thing, because barely ten minutes into the small bites of soup, Marcus startled to his feet, fell to his knees, and threw up on the carpet. 

“Shit!” You yelled, helping Marcus away from the now dirtied carpet patch. “Oh fuck. Marcus, you okay?” 

Marcus shook his head, eyes full of tears. 

“Oh baby,” you said softly, hugging him and helping him up onto the couch. “Babe, hey, it was an accident. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just fine. It’ll pass.” 

Marcus clung to you, sobbing openly. You rubbed his back, letting him bury himself in your shirt. 

At one point, Missy came back, peering into the living room. “Dad?” 

You shook your head, waving her away. She glanced from Marcus to the carpet and then back again. “Oh. Okay.” 

Eventually, you managed to get Marcus calm. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and you laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “Marcus, darling, stay here. I’m gonna clean the carpet, okay?” 

Marcus nodded, hugging a pillow tight as you got up to grab the cleaning supplies. He watched with half open eyes as you cleaned the carpet, never once complaining. 

When you finally stood, he made a small noise, drawing your attention. “I love you.” 

You smiled. “I love you too Marcus.” 

Everything in the Moreno household was calm throughout the rest of the day. Missy was getting better, able to make a phone call to Anita to reassure her that she and Marcus were okay. Marcus wasn’t feeling much better, so you and him cuddled on the couch, his head resting on your chest as you absently scratched through his hair. He napped for a bit, occasionally waking up and complaining he felt gross. You pointed out that he was still sick and encouraged him to drink more Gatorade before he fell asleep again. 

Dinner was more soup, at which Marcus complained. 

“Oh hush,” you said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Do not waste your voice complaining about soup you cannot taste.” 

Marcus stuck his tongue out at you and took another bite of soup. 

Missy went to bed shortly after dinner, the sickness sapping her energy. You sent her off with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to call the school and tell them she wouldn’t be going tomorrow. 

“And you, mister,” you said, sitting next to Marcus on the couch and turning on Wheel of Fortune. “Aren’t going to work for the next week.” 

“What?” 

You smiled, feeling Marcus shuffle and lay in your lap. “You heard Thirteen this morning. Medical leave for a week.” 

Marcus sighed, relaxing as you rubbed his shoulders. “Fine.” 

Somehow, you two fell asleep on the couch, curled up in each other’s embrace. When you woke up the next morning, Marcus felt a bit better. But you had started to sniffle. 

“Ha! Payback’s a bitch!” Marcus said when you took your temperature and sighed. 

“Marcus. Sit the hell down before you pass out again.” 

Marcus sat on the couch, a shit eating grin on his face. “Mhm. Kiss me.” 

You raised an eyebrow, crawling across the couch until you were practically on top of Marcus. “Hmm,” you hummed, feeling his body heat underneath you. “Kissing you is what got me sick. I think not.” 

You rolled off him, leaving one very betrayed boyfriend behind on the couch. 

“Hey wait! You can’t just leave!” 

Looking behind you, you smiled as sweetly as you could. “What? I don’t recall doing anything wrong Mr. Moreno.” 

Marcus’s face twisted into a feral grin. “Oh you are so lucky that Missy’s in her room. Get over here.” 

You laughed as he scooped you up, carrying you to your bedroom. “Marcus! You’re still sick! Be careful!” 

Marcus plopped you down on the bed and quickly followed, trapping you under the warm blankets with his own body. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’re gonna need it.” 

“Oh Marcus,” you said, thumbing over the patches in his facial hair. “I love you.” 

“Love you too babe, now get some sleep.”

Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

[bevioletskies]

(and i’m lost) in a daydream

summary: Napping together, in Klavier’s opinion, is one of the most romantic things a couple can do. But, he has to admit, staying up all night with Apollo to talk about nothing in particular is pretty good, too.

word count: 5.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day six of seven (prompt: "sleep"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song Daydream by The Lovin' Spoonful.

“Why are your feet still so cold? You’ve been lying here for like, ten minutes already!”

“Don’t question my blood circulation, baby, it’s rude.”

“I - what?” Apollo shook his head incredulously as he snuggled deeper into the mattress, pointedly moving his feet away from Klavier’s. “You know what? Never mind, I’m not even gonna ask. Just when I think I finally get you…”

“I’m an enigma, liebling. Hard to understand,” Klavier deadpanned, adjusting the covers so Apollo was snug underneath his duvet, weighted blanket, and faux-fur throw. Apollo seriously questioned how his boyfriend’s skin could be anything but blazingly hot with enough sheets on top of him to legitimately smother someone.

“You? You’re about as deep as a puddle on a freshly-paved road.” Klavier pouted exaggeratedly; Apollo leaned over to kiss his trembling bottom lip with a teasing grin. “Kidding, kidding. How could I possibly question the depth and breadth of someone who writes songs like 13 Years Hard Time For Love and Gonna Lock U Up? Clearly, Guilty Love is your magnum opus - ”

“You are so mean to me,” Klavier whined, wrapping his arms around Apollo’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “How are you still one of my favorite people in the world, achtung.” Laughing, Apollo buried his face against Klavier’s neck. “But...you’re not wrong about Guilty Love. It’s obviously my best work.”

“I prefer The Guitar’s Serenade myself,” Apollo mumbled into his hair, slowly detangling himself from Klavier so he could get a good look at him. He felt deliriously tired for some reason, like he’d been worn out to the point of restlessness. Strange, considering it was just like any other day; there was nothing that would’ve made him more exhausted than normal. Klavier seemed to be that way, too, blinking sleepily at Apollo with a wide grin, more lazy than flirtatious. “...hi?”

“Hallo.” Klavier kissed him again. “We should sleep, it’s late.”

“It’s barely ten,” Apollo pointed out.

“It’s late,” Klavier repeated, throwing an arm out across the pillows. Apollo took that as his cue to move in closer once more. “Some people need their beauty sleep, Apollo. We can’t all be fresh-faced, rosy-cheeked engels like you.”

“Now I know you’re tired, ‘cos that was complete crap,” Apollo said, poking Klavier in the cheek. “Have you seen this pimple on my chin? Look, Klav. It’s big enough to have its own legal system.” Klavier half-snorted, half-yawned. “Why’re you so tired, anyway? I thought you said you had a power nap at work, which is definitely not something you should be doing.”

“Herr Edgeworth can manage without me for twenty minutes, ach,” Klavier said derisively. “And I like a good nap, but it’s no substitute for sleep. And besides, it’s...it feels nicer, going to bed, when I have someone to share it with.”

“You are nauseating,” Apollo informed him, kissing him more intently this time. “...but I get what you mean.” He pulled back, swallowing. “Trucy and I were talking the other day about, like...stuff we missed out on by not growing up together. Y’know, family trips, home movies, falling asleep in the same bed...or, at least, that’s what I think it’s like. I wouldn’t know.”

Klavier went silent for an unsettlingly long time. “...it’s not all bad. Having a sibling. Until you look back on it and start to question all the...you know what, never mind.” He shook himself before he could finish his sentence. “You make a pefekt older brother, baby. Though you’re more like a little big brother, now that she’s taller than you.”

“By half an inch!” Apollo protested loudly, prodding Klavier more insistently now. “Look, her dad has the height gene - ”

“And your dad had the ‘loud voice’ gene, I hear.” Klavier took Apollo’s hand in both of his and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “Well, thanks to you, mein kleiner sirene, I’m definitely awake now.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately. “So, what, you wanna get up or something?”

“Nein, not at all.” Klavier rolled onto his side, bringing Apollo’s hand to his chest. Apollo could feel Klavier’s steady heartbeat beneath his fingers. “Let’s just...hang out, ja? We can talk until we fall asleep, just like we used to when you were working in Khura’in. Or, more recently, just the other day.”

“Emphasis on ‘day’ - we were s’posed to be helping Ema finish the decorations for Kay’s surprise party!” Apollo spluttered. “That was not a good time to take an accidental nap.”

“Well, entschuldigung for wanting to reflect fondly on a nice memory we shared,” Klavier griped, poking Apollo in the stomach. “For a moment there, I forgot I was dating the most pedantic man on the planet.”

“We’re lawyers, we’re pedantic for a living.” Apollo poked him back. “Hell, you got mad at me just the other day ‘cos I accidentally swapped two of your face serums or whatever - ”

“My skincare routine is a delicate ecosystem, baby, you can’t just move things - ” Klavier then cut himself off with a long exhale. “Nein, nein, we’re not getting into this again. I don’t like being mad at you. It’s unfathomable, really.”

Humming, Apollo used his free hand - the other was still being held against Klavier’s chest - to gently run his fingers through Klavier’s hair, brushing it out of his face. It was silky smooth and tangle-free, naturally; Klavier had a whole wealth of products he used on his skin and in his hair to maintain their quality. He still hadn’t forgiven Apollo for telling him that his own skincare routine consisted of nothing but St. Ives’ apricot scrub and Ponds cold cream (“At least let me buy you an actual cleanser, ach. And don’t tell me you don’t wear sunscreen!”).

“What’re you thinking about?” Klavier said quietly, finally releasing Apollo’s hand so he could cup his jaw, his thumb brushing across Apollo’s bottom lip. “I can practically see the little hamster wheel turning in your head right now.”

“Shut up,” Apollo murmured, playfully nipping the tip of Klavier’s thumb with his teeth. “I’m not thinking about anything, actually. Which is kinda nice, not gonna lie. I don’t have, like, a million pieces of evidence flying around in my brain for once.”

“The benefits of date night after a trial is over, ja?” Klavier said. “We can enjoy each other’s company without...conditions. Though to be fair, you were right when you said we shouldn’t spend nights together while we’re working the same case. Separate the lover from the lawyer and all that.”

Apollo groaned. “I hated that saying when you came up with it, and I still hate it now.” Laughing, Klavier moved closer, neatly tucking his head underneath Apollo’s chin. He pressed a kiss to Apollo’s collarbone, winding his arms around Apollo’s waist. “One of the many things I gotta put up with, I guess.”

“You love it,” Klavier mumbled against Apollo’s chest. “You think I’m so clever - ”

“Rewind to about five minutes ago when I said you’re about as deep as a footprint on a hardwood floor,” Apollo said wryly, pinching Klavier’s waist so he would look up; Apollo ducked down to kiss him. Grinning, Klavier deepened the kiss, letting out a pleased hum as he did so. “...I don’t totally mind putting up with you, though. Wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“I’m still not completely convinced you aren’t here for my mattress and heated floors.” Klavier began pressing open-mouthed kisses along the crook of Apollo’s jaw, savoring the smell of Apollo’s shampoo as he went. “From what you’ve told me of your apartment, it sounds like an absolute nightmare. A complete schreckgespenst.”

“Gesundheit,” Apollo murmured, tilting his chin upwards to give Klavier better access to his neck. “Yeah, my apartment sucks. The only reason I’d want you to come over is so you can finally meet my cat. Hell, he’s a nightmare and a half on his own.”

“Is this the same cat I’ve heard you refer to as your son?” Klavier asked, sitting up slightly. “The one who you said eats more expensive food than you do - ”

“One and the same,” Apollo replied with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, fine, you caught me. I’m only dating you ‘cos you have air conditioning, a flatscreen TV, and food that isn’t frozen.”

The laughter that escaped Klavier’s mouth was near-hysterical; his exhaustion was getting more and more obvious by the minute. “And here, I thought you actually loved me. My mistake.” His laughter was swiftly cut off by Apollo’s lips on his, his breath hitching when Apollo quickly turned them around so he was now straddling Klavier’s hips. “So was I right after all - ”

“I can’t believe we have the exact same stupid sense of humor, you make me so angry,” Apollo said breathlessly between kisses. “God, I love you. You’re the worst. The absolute worst - ”

“You and your mixed messages.” Klavier moved his hands from Apollo’s waist to his backside, gripping him possessively; Apollo’s back arched at his touch, anticipatory. “Your thoughts are as confusing as your logic, you know that?”

“This is the part where you say ‘I love you, too’, not ‘I think you can be stupid sometimes’, you asshole,” Apollo retorted, grinning.

Klavier leaned in close, his lips brushing against Apollo’s ear, his voice low and warm and more than a little bit sensual. “Ich liebe dich mehr jeden Tag.” Apollo shivered with pleasure. “Ich kann nicht ohne dich leben. Liebst du mich?”

“Ja,” Apollo whispered, kissing Klavier yet again. “You know that I do.”

_____

Fifteen minutes later, Klavier reluctantly detached himself from Apollo long enough so he could get up and crack open a window; his bedroom had gotten noticeably warmer, and it wasn’t just because they’d spent the last ten minutes making out like teenagers with a limited window of opportunity.

“Warm,” Apollo grunted, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt. “It’s so warm - Klav, can we please get rid of at least one layer of bed covers already? I have no interest in getting roasted anymore than I already do.”

“Fine, fine.” Klavier rolled up his faux-fur throw, then disappeared briefly into his walk-in closet so he could set it aside. When he returned, Apollo was sprawled out like a starfish on top of the duvet, his fingers and toes brushing the edges of Klavier’s California king bed, staring up at the ceiling with an exhausted, yet blissful smile. “Er...you okay, baby?”

“Excuse me for enjoying the cool air,” Apollo huffed, smirking when Klavier crawled on top of him once more, knees braced on either side of Apollo’s hips. He automatically reached up to run his hands along the sides of Klavier’s waist, his touch warm through the thin fabric of Klavier’s t-shirt. “...hi. Can I help you?”

“Nein, you’re just fine where you are.” Klavier leaned down to kiss him, then rolled onto his side, letting out a contented sigh. “What do you think, are you good to sleep now?”

Apollo snorted, nudging Klavier’s thigh with his foot. “You’re the one who has a self-imposed bedtime, you tell me.”

Klavier propped himself up on his elbow, then ruffled Apollo’s unstyled hair, sweeping it out of his face. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, actually. About the things that you and Trucy missed out on sharing together.”

“...ah.” Apollo’s expression grew serious. “What about it?”

“Do you think…” Klavier hesitated. “It’s just, you grew up as the younger sibling. Not by much, natürlich, but you were still the younger one. Do you think you would've preferred being the older sibling instead?” He let out a bitter laugh that made Apollo’s heart ache. “Not that I’m projecting, of course. Nein, not me.”

“Oh, Klav,” Apollo sighed, wrapping his arms protectively around Klavier’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest. “And...I dunno, I don’t think it’s really comparable, you know? Nahyuta’s barely a year older, while Trucy’s a whole seven years younger...besides, it really comes down to personality and, like, compatibility. Would I be the same person if I grew up with Trucy instead of Nahyuta? Probably not. Hell, definitely not.” He then snorted. “I mean, for one thing, I wouldn’t be living in the mountains.”

“I’m still not convinced when Herr Sahdmadhi tells me he doesn’t have any other pictures of you two lying around,” Klavier chuckled, his laughter causing the mattress to tremble. “Papa wants to take up scrapbooking, by the way, and he’s been asking me if I have any gut photos of you. Ach, it’s like my parents already decided you were their son-in-law the moment we started dating.”

“I think it’s sweet...a-and a little intimidating,” Apollo admitted. “No pressure, right?” Still, he snuggled in even closer, legs loosely wrapped around Klavier’s hips. “But your parents are great, I’ll see if I can find some photos for your dad. I'm sure I’ve got something in those boxes I brought back from Khura’in that I never bothered opening.”

“Sounds like someone needs to do a little spring cleaning,” Klavier teased. “But danke, baby. It’ll certainly be interesting, seeing our childhood photos side-by-side. Me with my hot pink braces, you with your...what was it, pet rabbits?”

“So many rabbits,” Apollo said forlornly. “We didn’t have the means to stop them from, y’know. Procreating. So, uh, think I’ll stick with my neutered cat any day.”

“Did you have a favorite?” Klavier asked; he seemed much more relaxed now, though Apollo couldn’t help but wonder about his earlier comment, if it was worth mentioning at all. “I had a favorite hündchen. She was very stupid.”

“Nice way to talk about your favorite childhood pet,” Apollo snorted. “Though I frequently brag about how much of an asshole my cat is, so I guess I’m one to talk.”

“Nein, like - she was the kind of dog who ran into glass doors and barked at her own reflection,” Klavier explained, biting back another laugh. “Her name was Sascha, and she was this darling cream-colored retriever who loved to sleep on my legs every night. I would always wake up with numb toes.” His smile then turned sad, melancholy. “The first time I tried a weighted blanket after she passed, I...I almost cried. It had been so long since I had that feeling, you know? Like someone was hugging me while I slept...keeping me safe.”

“Babe,” Apollo said softly, gently cupping Klavier’s face.

“Mir geht's gut,” Klavier reassured him, placing his hands over Apollo’s. “It’s a nice memory, that’s all.” He cleared his throat, making small, soothing circles on the backs of Apollo's hands with his thumbs. “So, your favorite häschen?”

“Well, they were wild rabbits, so it’s not like they were ‘ours’, exactly,” Apollo said thoughtfully, leaning into Klavier’s touch. “We didn't give ‘em names or identifying marks, so we got them mixed up all the time. But there was one little guy who was a real piece of work. If I didn’t feed him fast enough, he’d bite my fingers. I had a weird soft spot for him.”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “...you have a strange relationship with your pets, liebe.”

“Hey, maybe he was my favorite ‘cos he reminded me of me,” Apollo said defensively. “Just like how your favorite dog liked sleeping on your legs. You sure like hogging the bed, after all - which is an incredible feat, considering this is a California king.”

“True,” Klavier agreed. “You do remind me of kätzchen, sharp nails and all.”

“I accidentally cut you with a broken fingernail while holding your hand just one time,” Apollo sighed. “So, do you have pictures of Sascha? I’d love to see her.”

“At my parents’ house,” Klavier said, smiling softly. “I’ll have to break out the photo albums the next time we drop by.”

Humming, Apollo lowered his head to Klavier’s shoulder, half-burying his face against Klavier’s neck. Klavier’s hands moved to Apollo’s back, tapping out rhythmic patterns along his spine. They stayed like that for a while, quiet, almost zen-like, with the occasional breeze whistling in through the open window. Finally, after a few peaceful minutes, Apollo began to shiver, the hairs on his arms and legs prickling from the cold. “...it’s getting pretty windy now. Maybe it’s time for us to actually try to sleep?”

After closing the window, the two of them got back under the duvet, Klavier playfully prodding Apollo’s bare legs with his literal cold feet. Apollo countered him by aggressively poking Klavier’s cheeks with his frozen fingers, only stopping when Klavier begged for mercy. “You’re a cruel one,” Klavier sniffed despite the fact Apollo was now rubbing his face to warm him back up.

“And you’re such a diva,” Apollo said affectionately, pecking him on the nose. “Remember that one time we went to get poké and they didn’t have furikake? You honest-to-god pouted like a kid who didn’t get their favorite ice cream flavor.”

“I know what I like,” Klavier huffed. “And speaking of which, between the way you talk about Mikeko and the way you talk about me - are you sure you actually like us, schatz?”

Apollo softened somewhat. “To borrow a phrase from you - you know you’re, like, one of my favorite people ever.”

“I would hope so,” Klavier murmured, nudging his face against Apollo’s neck. His fingers then slipped underneath Apollo’s t-shirt so he could feel his warmth, feel the softness of his skin. “That’s something my parents used to say, actually. Back when they were in school, when they wrote each other love letters. ‘You are my favorite star in the sky’, Mama would write.”

“Did they end up keeping those letters?” Apollo asked. “It almost sounds like you’ve read them.”

“Nein, I could never,” Klavier protested. “It’s their private correspondence, after all. They just read me some of the nice bits, the poetic parts. I’d write you a poem myself, if I didn’t think you would absolutely hate it.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t hate it.” Apollo kissed the side of Klavier’s head. “I’m just not big on performative romance, y’know, big displays of love that seem to be for people that aren’t part of the relationship. But this right here...it’s more my speed.”

“I can tell,” Klavier hummed, kissing him. It wasn’t long before the two of them found themselves distracted again, caught up in each other’s embrace. Despite seeing plenty of each other over the past few days, Apollo couldn’t help but - privately - admit that he’d missed being able to see Klavier as his boyfriend, not his rival. Every time Klavier smirked at him from behind the prosecutor’s bench, he had to remind himself that he usually preferred to kiss him, not slap him. “...we’re never getting to sleep, are we?”

“Keep your shirt on, Gavin,” Apollo mumbled against Klavier’s lips.

“Not what I meant, but I like where your mind is at,” Klavier teased. “Besides, a bit hypocritical of you when you have your hands on my ass, ja?”

Apollo quickly withdrew his hands as if he’d been burned, ducking down underneath the sheets so Klavier couldn’t see how red his face had become. “Sh-shut up. It was just more convenient to hold onto than your waist, that’s all!”

“My ass is more convenient than my waist, you say? That’s a new one.” Klavier pulled back the duvet with a mocking grin. “Ah, there’s my favorite forehead. Where’s the rest of you, hm?”

“I hate you so much,” Apollo groaned, reluctantly crawling back out. “Why do you even start calling me that, anyway? It’s not like we were talking about my forehead, it was the location of Dr. Meraktis’s bullet wound!”

Klavier looked at him thoughtfully, his head cocked. The dog-like resemblance was becoming more and more apparent by the second. “Honestly? I don’t actually know. All I know is, I wanted to give you a cute nickname, and it just...stuck for one reason or another. And you have to admit, your hair makes your forehead quite...prominent.”

“Cute nickname?” Apollo repeated.

Now Klavier was staring at him more incredulously than anything else. “...I know we’ve talked about this before, but could you really not tell I was flirting with you from the start? Granted, it wasn’t meant to be anything serious until after our first case together, but still.”

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, slumping back against the headboard. “I, uh...I honestly thought you were just making fun of me.”

“Achtung,” Klavier remarked, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Maybe it’s time we take a trip down memory lane and see what you thought I was doing. For my curiosity’s sake, if you don’t mind.”

Apollo yawned and stretched. “Hell, why not? It’s not like we’re sleeping anytime soon...apparently.”

_____

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were sitting cross-legged on top of Klavier’s duvet, trying their best not to touch anything with their still-wet nails. Apollo wasn’t a fan of having painted nails - not that he didn’t like nail polish itself, it was more the fact that chipped polish bothered him - but he liked letting Klavier do them, liked the feel of his boyfriend’s soft, gentle fingers as they tenderly held his own.

“Wait, wait, wait - you only said that you didn’t think Athena was my type ‘cos you wanted to know if I was single?!”

“I thought that was obvious,” Klavier said, sighing. “How are you so clever and so unobservant at the same time, ach. My boyfriend, the walking contradiction. The man who helped rebuild an entire legal system, the man who can’t tell when someone is asking him to dinner. You truly are a wonder, liebe.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me - ”

“My mistake, clearly. I should have just walked right into Themis, wearing a neon sign that says ‘Ask Me About My Romantic Feelings for Apollo Justice’.” Klavier snorted at the incredulous look on Apollo’s face. “What, too subtle?”

“I just can’t believe you were into me for that long,” Apollo admitted, his voice small. “Like, if you really thought I wasn’t interested...why didn’t you just...stop?”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Klavier turned away for a moment to delicately blow on his nails, pointedly avoiding Apollo’s eyes, then reached for his bottle of Seche Vite. “Remember what you said to me once? About...feeling your feelings before realizing you even have them. After all, it’s not like feelings are just something you can turn on and off, like a switch.”

“I got pretty good at doing that, actually,” Apollo muttered. “Compartmentalizing, I mean.”

“That’s not the same, though, is it?” Klavier said gently. “Pretending not to love you and not loving you are completely different things. I could act like a carefree flirt all I wanted, but...at the end of the day, my heart was always set on you.”

Apollo bit back a grin. “You are such a sap, sheesh. But I hear you. Sorry I made you wait around, I guess.”

“Don’t be,” Klavier murmured. “I’m just glad we got here in the end, you know?”

“Same.” Apollo leaned in to kiss Klavier chastely on the lips, both of them still taking care not to touch each other or the bed. “So, now that we - ” But before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a short, but loud grrrrr. “...Klav?”

“Achtung,” Klavier said, staring down at his stomach in surprise. “I guess we should’ve ordered more dumplings, after all.”

“Or you shouldn’t have let me take the last one,” Apollo pointed out, laughing. “Okay, okay, after we’re done here, we’re raiding your fridge.”

Another fifteen minutes later, they found themselves sprawled on top of Klavier’s duvet once more, this time with two empty bowls that once held ice cream sitting on his bedside table. Apollo’s eyes were closed in contentment as he hummed a little something - some strange combination of The Guitar’s Serenade and something else he couldn’t identify - only for him to jolt slightly at the feeling of Klavier’s cold fingers on his skin.

“Ah - babe, your hands are freezing - ”

“Sorry.” Klavier didn’t look all that sorry as he pressed a sticky-sweet kiss to Apollo’s stomach. “What’s that you’re humming, liebe?”

“I...I don’t actually know.” Apollo furrowed his brows in confusion. “It feels like something I’ve heard over and over again, but I couldn’t begin to tell you what it is. Weird, huh?”

“It almost sounds like…” Klavier then began to hum it himself, tapping out the rhythm on Apollo’s thigh. “...like a lullaby of sorts. Maybe that’s why you’re mixing it with The Guitar’s Serenade.”

“A lullaby?” Apollo repeated. “Wait, you don’t think it’s something that...I mean, Mom told me this story the other day that…” He swallowed thickly. “...she said my dad used to sing to me, like. All the time. Apparently, Mom would come home from work and find him making dinner, and he’d have me on his back in one of those baby wrap things, and he’d just be...singing. Bouncing up and down to the beat to make me giggle.”

Klavier placed his hands over Apollo’s heart, lightly resting his chin on top of them. “That sounds like a wunderschön sight to come home to. Your papa must have been an amazing man.” Apollo shot him a rueful smile, running his fingers through Klavier’s hair. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he separated a portion of it from the rest and began to braid it almost mindlessly, instinctively, resuming his quiet humming. “Ah - you know how to braid hair?”

“Muscle memory,” Apollo explained, continuing to braid. “I liked keeping my hair short, but Nahyuta experimented with growing it out all the time. Aesthetics and beauty are a big part of Khura’inese culture, so he liked switching things up, even though we were never around anyone but...but Dhurke. I learned how to do braids and buns and stuff so he could have a different hairstyle every day.”

“Maybe I should seriously get you to do my hair sometime,” Klavier mused, right as Apollo tied the ends off. “We’ve got that work event next month, maybe then.”

“Hey, I’m no expert,” Apollo chuckled, leaning back to rest on his elbows and admire his handiwork. It wasn’t quite as neat as it used to be, but even in the middle of the night, even with his sloppy attempt at a simple braid, Klavier was still one of the most beautiful people Apollo had ever seen. “But if you let me practice on you, maybe I will be.”

“As long as you don’t pull all my hair out while you’re at it,” Klavier said, preening.

Apollo continued to laugh; then, his expression grew sober. “...is it weird that I think about, like...if I should miss my dad or not?”

Klavier frowned. “Why is it weird?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to think about it, right?” Apollo said, shrugging. “Like, either I miss him...or I don’t. And it’s not like I can tell Mom, ‘cos she loved him, and she misses him all the time, but I...I…” He inhaled sharply. “...I didn’t know him. Not really. So, uh...how do I miss someone I never knew?”

“Well...maybe it’s not about missing him, per se,” Klavier offered. “Maybe you just...miss that you never got to know him. That all your mama’s stories are just that - stories, not memories. And you wish you had the chance to make your own.”

Apollo shot him a soft smile. “You got all of that out of one train of thought, huh? Though...you might not be wrong. It’s kinda like the whole ‘what if’ with growing up with Trucy versus growing up with Nahyuta, y’know, only with...with my dad. What if things had gone completely differently? Would it be better, worse?”

“You seem to be thinking about family quite a lot these days,” Klavier commented. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, hm?”

Apollo shook his head. “I meant what I said earlier - nothing, really. It’s just the kind of thing my mind comes up with at - well, it’s not that late, but still.” He then bit back a smile. “Would be, uh. Would be kinda nice, though, wouldn’t it? If that really was dad’s lullaby I was remembering, that I still - that I have a piece of him still with me?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier agreed. “You should sing it to your mama next time you see her, see if she recognizes it. Even if she doesn’t, it can become your version of The Guitar’s Serenade, for just the two of you.”

“I’d like that,” Apollo said quietly. Klavier squeezed Apollo’s thigh, then shuffled back up the bed so they were face-to-face, kissing Apollo chastely. “Hm...your lips are cold, too.”

“You could warm them up for me,” Klavier murmured suggestively; once again, it was his turn to grab Apollo’s backside, pulling him closer and closer until their chests were pressed against one another, his knee sliding neatly between Apollo’s legs. Apollo groaned at the cheesy line but continued kissing him regardless, his lips parting slightly so he could deepen the kiss. “What happened to us having the same stupid sense of humor, baby?”

“You still make me so mad.” Apollo captured Klavier’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging slightly with a wicked grin that made Klavier shiver. “It’s funny, whenever I complain about you to someone else - ”

“Which I suspect happens often,” Klavier commented.

“ - they always ask, ‘so why are you with him, then?’.” Apollo released him, nudging his nose affectionately against the underside of Klavier’s jaw. “And usually, I give ‘em some bullshit excuse. No need to tell them more than they have to know, y’know? But the actual answer’s pretty simple.”

Klavier smoothed Apollo’s hair away from his forehead, his thumb tracing a line across Apollo’s freckles. “Tell me.”

“Because it just...makes sense. Which doesn’t make any sense at all.” Apollo’s smile was so warm, so open, that Klavier felt as if he was falling in love all over again. “You get what I mean?”

“I get you, liebling,” Klavier said fondly, capturing his lips once more. “I’ve got you.”

_____

Sugar, sugar...oh, that night, in your embrace…

Apollo violently jolted awake at the sound of his ringtone, nearly tumbling right out of bed in the process. Groaning, he blinked blearily into the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, then threw his arm out in an attempt to grab his phone from his bedside table without getting out from under the covers. Instead, he ended up hitting something else entirely.

“Ach! Apollo, what are you doing?”

“Crap - sorry, Klavier,” Apollo winced, sitting up properly so he could rub the sleep out of his eyes. He then turned to pick up his phone, letting out an annoyed huff when he realized it was just an unknown number. “Great, spam calls. And at this hour?” He paused. “Wait...what time is it? Shit, it’s - Klav, it’s almost eleven!”

“Perfekt,” Klavier sighed, rolling back over and pulling the duvet over his head. “Another seven hours, bitte.”

“No, i-it’s eleven in the morning!” Apollo shook Klavier’s shoulder. “Babe, we gotta get up!”

“Why?” Klavier said, yawning as he reluctantly opened his eyes. “It’s the weekend, süßer, relax. Neither of us has anywhere to be, ja? I missed my morning run, sure, but considering we didn’t fall asleep until...ach, three? Four? I’m in no mood to work out.”

“But...shouldn’t we…” Apollo was swiftly interrupted by his own yawn. “...fine, fine, you have a point.” He collapsed back into bed, defeated. Grinning victoriously, Klavier pulled him closer, fitting him snugly underneath his chin. Apollo braced his hand against Klavier’s chest; his heartbeat was steady, comforting, beneath Apollo’s fingers. “Seriously, though, let’s never do that again.”

“I don’t know about that,” Klavier hummed. “Personally, I thought it was a night to remember.”

“A night to remember, not a night to repeat,” Apollo muttered. Klavier merely laughed, dropping his head to rest on top of Apollo’s, briefly turning to kiss his forehead. “Klavier…”

“I mean it, liebe,” Klavier murmured; Apollo felt his own eyes drifting shut at the sound of Klavier’s low, soothing voice, his muscles relaxing as his body melted against Klavier’s familiar embrace. “We have nothing to do today. Sounds like the right time to take a nap, don’t you think?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more hours,” Apollo mumbled into Klavier’s chest. “Early dinner after we get up?”

“Someone’s optimistic,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Apollo’s shoulder. “Sure, baby. Now go back to sleep, okay?”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my sixth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fifth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. This is definitely the most plotless fic out of the seven, which is just fine by me, since as I've mentioned before, I love writing dialogue between these two - especially when they're together and get to lovingly snark on each other. It gives me a chance to slip in some little headcanons here and there without worrying about connecting it to the actual plot. For some reason, I have this really vivid image in my mind of Jove holding Apollo on his back while singing along to the radio and working in the kitchen; I think it would be adorable (and a little heartbreaking).

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[blissfulsun]

The very last part of lessons in love❣️ It’s been a long but rewarding process to finish my first ever series, I hope you all enjoy (i’m not fully happy with it but I’ve kept u guys waiting for so so long, I hope it’s the ending you all had in mind)🥺💗

word count: 1,707

What I learned from love (us) // Jeff Wittek

Empty. The room, the bed, and you. 

A quiet that feels so heavy it settles in the darkest depths of your chest and simultaneously claws at your throat, invisible to the naked eye as you stumble out of bed that morning and tiptoe down the stairs with the hope akin to that of a child on Christmas morning sparking at your shaky fingertips, only to find the rest of the apartment desolate of even his cologne. 

You hope it’ll wash away with the bed sheet haphazardly stripped off the bed and into the washing machine, with the bathroom tiles scrubbed to shining perfection: this realisation that your twenty for hours were just that. 

One day: one thousand four hundred and forty minutes, eighty six thousand and four hundred seconds that seem far more abstract in their numbers to hold enough time to allow you to both love and lose like never before. 

Jeff doesn’t call: doesn’t ring your cellphone or your door. 

There’s no good morning text or a picture of Nerf or a random dog he saw that day. 

You avoid the rest of your friends like the plague, unaware of the recent events that transpired between the two best friends. 

The deadline for your assignment works in your favour, reason enough to cut every call short and answer each message in the group chat with a polite no. 

Jeff’s name lacks even within that thread of texts. It’s like he’s never existed. 

But the ache in your chest and the tears staining your pillow serve as reminder that’s far from the truth, they gather in your eyes as you blankly stare at your reflection in the empty word document on your laptop for days, only allowing them to fall in the now cold familiarity of your shower or bed. 

Love is crippling, you realise. 

Finally feeling it for the first time but wishing for the undoing of it in the aftermath. 

Until you realise, this is not who you are. 

Staring at the shell of the girl with rosy cheeks and dainty fingers, hair lazily thrown up and his t-shirt adorning your body: 

a last act of masochism before you throw it out with the garbage that night, staying up until the sun comes up as you fingers type away with the deadline looming over your morning. 

It garners you the highest grade in your lecture, a mention by the professor in front of the whole class and a spot at the literature event he’s hosting for the department. 

You thought this heartbreak might feel more poetic as you watch the ink print across the pages. 

That it’ll become less heavy from theory to practice, parking outside the familiar apartment building but sitting in your car for another fifteen minutes before you decide to head inside. 

You realise it doesn’t when your feet turn in the direction of the stairs, prolonging the inevitable only to find Jeff’s apartment vacant anyway. 

There’s traffic on the way home. And for the first time in a long time you’re fine with being stuck in one spot for so long, the tips of your fingers growing cold at the thought of reentering your home. 

Because now, home is a person, has been for a while but you were maybe too blind to notice, too busy filling seconds of silence with laughter, eyes find those familiar pools of brown in every room, shoulders dropping their weight in his presence, fingers slotting in between much larger ones with timely practise. 

For a moment, you convince yourself you somehow fabricate the smell of Jeff’s cologne in the hallway leading to your apartment door, heartbeat accelerating in your chest and legs stumbling to get around the corner while your mind screams at you. It falls quiet when you’re met only with the dark wood of your front door. 

On the other side of town, Jeff stumbles into his own apartment, defeated at the lack of answer at your door earlier that night, foot steps heavy and falling short at the sight of an envelope on his floor.

More silence. Just as heavy on your chest as you clear your throat and frantically glance around the room. 

This time, it’s somewhat welcomed as your mind recollects itself before you look down at the pieces of paper in your hand. 

The words feel wrong as they leave your mouth, stinging on the tip of your tongue. 

Your mind knows they shouldn’t be read aloud like this: to a room full of people, strangers, who’ll only hear the pretty ornaments that barely scratch the surface. Y

ou go ahead anyway, stuttering through the first sentence while students and lecturers alike gather around to listen: 

‘Descartes wrote I think, therefore I am. A dutiful observation of his existence. I am. I wake up each morning, get out of bed and choose to live, though not all of us truly do. I certainly haven’t. I think, therefore I am.’ 

He didn’t come, your mind echoes the sentiment over and over. 

If your heart had thus far remained intact by no less than your entire strength, it’s falling apart right now. 

‘But I do not love, not the boy with blushing cheeks and clammy hands, the one who steals my first kiss under the bleachers, or the next one to follow with flowers and confessions made on the steps of my mother’s old porch, not even the freckled man with a guitar on his back and a promise of forever in his mouth.’ 

There’s practised precision to the way you read the words aloud, eyes glancing away from the sentence that have been ingrained in your mind, finding pools of brown standing tall in the crowd. 

You smile at Jeff, stuck between the relief spurting in your throat and the instinct to run, continuing somehow:

‘And I’m not good at this, always stutter over confessions and stumble through these feelings but with you? I’d follow blindly, rough around the edges but comforting like the first time I held your hand in mine. One day, I’ll hope to say I love you without decorating the words with ‘get home safe’ or ‘sleep tight’ or even ‘you make me a better person’. 

It garners a half broken smile from your best friend, his hands nervously fumbling with the pockets of his suit jacket. 

‘It will be like any other Tuesday night, except our stars will align. The violet undertones of my veins will spill. Heart strings will play to an awaiting choir and these words will finally hold enough meaning, far more poetic than the silence we’ve endured in the aftermath. For now, I grieve for the girl I was before you, perfectly unknowing, waking up each morning but choosing not to live. I grieve for the woman I am now, knowing yet choosing to wake up each and every new morning. I love, therefore I am.’ 

The applause shakes you away from the intense eye contact, professor’s hand patting your upper back as he engages you in a conversation you’re frankly too lost to follow. 

The words might be pretty, soft enough in their realisation to keep you busy with pointless conversation from their listeners: when Jeff finally makes his way to the front, shy in his steps in your direction, flowers clutched in his right hand as the other flies up to scratch through the brown locks at the nape of his neck.

The two of you stand like that for a while, awkward and quiet until you clear your throat and ask, ‘Are those..are they for me?’ 

For a moment, Jeff looks lost at the words until he finally glances at the bouquet clutched in his grasp. 

‘What?...I - yeah’ they’re clumsily shoved in your direction with that. 

‘Darling, look...I-’ Jeff sighs, space between your bodies growing smaller as your best friend nears. 

‘Why did you leave?’ you interrupt, the question whispered and cheeks aflame when you glance up to his towering height. 

Jeff has the decency to look lost for a moment, brows furrowed before his eyes shift and jaw clenches at the realisation. 

‘I didn’t know if I could do it.’ Jeff begins, hands quick to wrap safely around your waist when you begin to pull away at his words, like a wounded animal, not ready to hear the rest of his speech if it’s to carry similar tone of rejection. 

‘Y/n..’ his deep voice begs. When you find yourself glancing up there’s sudden depth there, shades of brown and green mixing together enough to keep you hypnotised long enough to let Jeff continue. 

‘I - we - we wouldn’t just be a trial run alright? If we do this, take that next step...then there’s no going back for me. If I get to wake up next to you, have breakfast together, go on dates and hold your hand, get to -to kiss you? Then you can’t expect me to ever be able to stop.’ 

There’s no pause to his words, no stutter or shaky breath as the confession settles in him and simultaneously washes over you in a room full of strangers and snobby class mates. 

You release a breath for what feels like the first time in a week as your hands involuntarily find their way to his chest, body swaying into Jeff’s like second nature, like what feels as if too long ago in your shower. 

‘You mean?’ you bite your lip, eyes searching his as everything else blurs into the background. ‘I love you.’ Jeff replies, delirious giggle escaping his lips as tears line your eyes. 

Neither of you can help the goofy, ear splitting smiles that stretch across your mouths. 

They remain that way even as your smaller body jumps up and Jeff’s own leans down only to tighten his hold around your frame when your lips touch for the very first time, clumsy and with teeth clicking as you both refuse to stop grinning even for a short while. 

That night, you fall asleep in the safety of his arms, legs intertwined under the covers while you drift off with the knowledge that tomorrow, you’ll get to wake up beside your best friend, the person that’s quite likely the love of your life. 

And then again the night after that...and the night after that, hopefully, for the rest of your life.