#and i’ve been trying and i’ve been lying awake. and at this point i don’t know how to deal with this anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janaispunk · 1 month

Text

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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yok00k · 3 months

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coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook angst #jungkook ff #jjk angst #bts angst #bts ff #jeon jk #jungkook #bts jk #angst #emocore

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insuke69 · 6 months

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"G'Morning, luv."

Mornings with Hobie headcannons <3

DISCLAMERRR: Contains cussing, shitty accent (this man is COCKNEY), some sexual stuff mentioned in scenarios, some fluff, like bittersweet chocolate or something idk.

Female reader in mind but I don’t think I’ve put in anything to make it gender specific.

So this is pretty much how any morning would be like if you were with (dating) this punk and you spend nights with him, and spend mornings as well.

______________________________________________________________

He’s either a heavy ass sleeper or an extremely light one, I heavily doubt that this fucker sleeps like a baby since he literally used to be homeless in the streets of Camden, Hes only been able to actually get rest in your arms when you two fall asleep cuddling.

Cuddling: This man loves to be the big spoon just as much as he wants to be a little spoon, he wants you to feel safe and protected in his arms as he does in yours. If you two are sleeping in the same house–room–bed- he is always going to end up pressed against you with an arm draped over you.

-if you guys argue and you try giving him the silent treatment by rejecting his usual limb embrace, that is equivalent to a knife in the heart to Hobie and he’ll deadass do what he can. He needs his cuddles :((

THE MORNINGS THOUGH? SCENARIOS: (272 words)

You and Hobie had an argument the night before, you hardly remember what it was about but at this point it was to be petty, that's what the relationship was full of: Banter. But.. something is different. You don’t have the feeling of your partner's lanky arm over you. He usually holds you as if you were his only source of warmth throughout the nights, but you didn’t even feel the bed lowered by his resting body beside you either. Since you were turned away from him since last you two spoke–something got a bit heated, turning to look at Hobies part of the shared bed, he wasn’t lying there.. But before your mind starts working against you and overthinks like usual, the bedroom door swings open and you’re greeted by your shirtless significant other as he holds a tray. “Oh- Mornin’ lovie, I was making breakfast-” He began as he glanced at the apology breakfast–this man never apologized with his words.

“For me?” You interrupt with a grin as you sit up, putting your weight on your hands as you steady yourself and look over at the tall man who rolls his eyes at you. “No, for me. I was planning on ea’ing this in front of you.” He reciprocates sarcastically as he places the tray on your lap, the breakfast being two sunny side up eggs with toast and a cup of coffee, “Eat.” He tells you before turning on his heel and immediately walking out before you can even try and quip or decline. He knew full well you weren’t that much of a morning person compared to him.

Can I also mention that if y’all didn’t have an argument before, Hobie is obsessed with morning kisses; If you have work/college in the mornings, you aren’t leaving the house before he’s had his tongue in your mouth. He’s very clingy in the morning since he’s so happy to be there with you at all :(

-You've been late so many times because of the kisses–escalating into making out in the kitchen–to him blowing your back out before you walk out the door.

2ND SCENARIO: (562 words)

You huff as you glance at your phone screen to see the time, a bit behind schedule already since your alarm didn’t go off. Thank god you already woke up early anyways, the alarm just is to be sure you’re earlier. Hobie awakes to you in the bathroom, the shower running makes him know you’re getting ready, and reminds him of the last time he’s even been able to feel your body against his.. Even though that was literally last night.

He gets himself off of the bed and throws on some sweats and an old ripped up tee he’s always refused to toss out since it ‘looks more punk and cooler’ like that. He goes on with his own unorganized morning routine of wandering his houseboat and lazily making a quick breakfast of an omelet, when he was about done with making his own serving he began to hear the soft pattering of your feet on the wooden floor and you walk into the kitchen in your outfit for the day–hair slightly damp from the shower and smelling fresh and clean.

“Morning.” You say to him as you grab the milk from the fridge and cereal out of the cabinet in almost one swift movement, trying to not take too long on greetings since you were trying to be on time- or at least not late.

But Hobie had other plans: He didn’t like that one worded greeting or how you barely averted your attention to him at all, but Hobie already has a plan anyways.

He hums in acknowledgement as he cleans the dishes he used to make his food, glances over at you as you reach up the dish cabinet for a bowl, he dries his hands on his shirt and turns off the faucet. Slithering his hands around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Hobie- c’mon, I don’t really have much time for this.” You didn’t have any time–but you loved how his arms wrapped around you in that embrace from the back.

Hobie remains quiet besides another lazy hum of acknowledgement as his hands glide over your shape and body and find themselves under your shirt, his warm hands caressing your stomach and sides and your breath hitching at the touch that’s nearly Electric. Then his hands slowly lowering to the growing warm pressure down between your legs by slowly tucking one of his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, and his head in the crook of your neck and leaving kisses, stingy pecks with slight tongue.

“Hobie..” You murmur almost breathlessly as you tilt your head to allow him more access to your neck. He knew how to get you all hot and bothered.

You turn to try and get a kiss to his lips and to receive some kind of relief in your body, with your lips clashing to his and him fully reciprocating as your tongues begin dancing with the others and him holding you close from your hip and waist.

“You don’ seem to mind being late now, do ya, love?” He smirks into the kiss as he softly lifts you to set you onto the counter and standing between your knees and one of his hands sliding onto your thigh, thumb grazing the inner part of it and the main part of his hand holding your thigh open.

------

i wanna mention that I'm not dead- just dk what to post, but my asks are always open for any requests <33

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #fanfic #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie imagine #atsv hobie #hobie brown fanfiction #spider punk x reader #hobie my beloved #IM STILL BALLS DEEP IN THIS FIXATION LMAO

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riordanness · 3 months

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i think he knows - [l.laurence]

wordcount: 1.3K

requested: no (but i am working on all my requests)

warnings: maybeee a wonka reference (my bad)

I lay side by side with Jo March, our hands intertwined, staring up at the clouds.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jo laughs. “That is definitely not a giraffe. It looks like a flamingo.”

I wrinkle my nose. “No way. It looks closer to a melted chocolate bar than a flamingo.”

She nudges me and laughs again. “Whatever.”

I sigh and close my eyes, my spare fingers playing with the blades of grass we’re lying on.

“This is the life,” Jo says quietly, as if she can read my thoughts.

“Mhm…” I reply, feeling sleepy and sun sick. We’ve been out all morning in the hot summer sun, and the effects are finally catching up on me.

“You know what would make today better, though?”

“What?” I’m barely paying attention now, my sleepiness wanting to take over.

“If Laurie was here.” Jo says it like it’s poetry.

I’m immediately awake. I sit up. “What did you say?”

Jo looks amused. “I said…that today would have been better if Laurie was here with us.”

I try to downplay my reaction with a shrug. “Yeah, that would have been nice I suppose.”

“Oh, y/n,” Jo teases. “Don’t try to pretend you aren’t head over heels in love with him.”

I look at her sharply. “Jo, don’t talk about such things.”

“It's true, though,” Jo insists. “Isn’t it?”

I look away. Of course it was true. Laurie Laurence was the one person I could never imagine not having in my life. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs. He was my sunlight, my happiness, my joy and my energy and my smile. He was my everything.

“Maybe it’s true,” I whisper. “But it’s not important. I will never matter to him the way that he matters to me.”

Jo is quiet for a while, her eyes narrowed as she stares into the deep blue nothingness of the sky.

I lay beside her, in comfortable silence, as my thoughts drift, as always, back to that boy with the laughing green eyes, unruly but beautiful dark hair, and that smile that fills me with everything I need.

I first met Laurie through the others. I’m lifelong friends with all the Marches, and being an only child, my days tend to be lonely. Marmee has me over as much as humanly possible. Sleepovers, performances, club meetings and dinners, walks and piano lessons, days at the beach, sketching in the garden, dances and dumb adventures. I do it all with those four girls.

Then one day, a boy joined in on our fun.

At first, it was nerve-wracking, doing all our usual antics in the presence of a boy. But I soon learned that Laurie was anything but judgemental, and better than that–he was amazing fun.

We became best friends.

Now, everything I did was with Laurie, or nearly everything. I’d spend every second with him if I could.

It’s like there’s magic in his smile.

“Laurie!” I shove open his front door, yelling up the stairs.

His curly head pops over the stairs, grinning down at me. “Hey, you.”

I squint up at him. “What are you doing? I thought we were going out today. You promised we’d go ice skating.” I wave my skates at him to prove my point.

Laurie winces. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know I did, but–” He makes a face. “I’ve got a cold and Grandfather forbade me to leave my room.” His features turn mischievous. “In fact, I’m risking his wrath just being out here in the hall.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to come up there and entertain you then.”

“You’ll get sick!” Laurie shakes his head at me.

“Too late,” I say, as I drop my skates and coat at the door, and dash up the stairs.

Laurie watches as I hop, skip, and jump at the top stair, as I do every time (because he did it first, and I like to do everything he does). He stares at me with a small smirk on his face.

“What?” I ask, coming to a stop only a metre away from him. “It’s fun doing that at the top of the stairs. Like a little celebratory moment for conquering the staircase once again.”

Laurie laughs under his breath as he shakes his head slightly. “It’s nothing, my dear y/n. Hop at your heart's content.”

I shrug and head into his room, a lage, ornate chamber full of antique paintings and old books and clothes strewn all over the floor.

“Oh, my,” I say disapprovingly. “Laurie, you really need to tidy this place up a little if you want to get any better, you know.”

“I know,” Laurie sighs, falling sideways onto an armchair. “But I just don’t have your work ethic, y/n. I love being lazy and useless and spending my time doing silly, worthless things.”

I click my tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurie. I know you. You have it inside you to do great things with your life. You just have to want it enough, and to work hard for it. You can do it. I believe in you.”

I wander around the room busily, picking up dirty laundry and discarded books, and straightening the bedsheets. I can feel Laurie’s eyes on me, but it’s not an awkward feeling. If anything, it’s comforting. Being around him, everything is easier, safer. My words come out of my mouth easily. I don’t worry about saying the wrong thing or coming across as too blunt or anything like that. They can come right from my heart, because I know him better than anyone, and I see what Laurie is capable of.

“And you know, you can always–”

“Y/n.” Laurie gets to his feet.

My voice dies, and I frown at him uncertainly and I drop a small stack of books onto his desk.. “Yeah?”

“You know how the other day, um, you and Jo were hanging out in the gardens, watching the clouds?”

My eyes narrow a little, but I nod slowly. “Yes…? How did you know about that?”

Laurie doesn’t meet my eyes, rolling his tongue around in his mouth nervously. “I might’ve been spying on you?”

My hands are instantly on my hips as I give him a look. “Laurie Laurence.”

“I’m sorry!” he says immediately, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I just… well, I heard what you were talking about.”

I try to think back. What would Jo and I have been talking about that was so important he’s bringing it back up now? I didn’t think we were discussing anything that exciting, except…

Oh.

My face goes slack, and my mouth drops slightly open. “You-you mean–”

Laurie nods and gets to his feet. “So it’s true?”

I want to lie, to shake my head and laugh it away, but my reaction has already made it obvious. I slowly nod my head yes, once, then twice.

Relief floods into Laurie’s features. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“What?” I ask, but my question is lost when Laurie attacks me with a hug.

“I love you, y/n,” he says softly into my hair. “I’ve loved you ever since Jo first introduced me to you that day in the attic. You might’ve been shy and wearing that silly costume; a battered overcoat and tattered suitcase, but I’d never seen a prettier girl. You help me be a better person, you’re always so encouraging and kind and hard-workig, and I just… I really love you.”

He pulls away, holding my shoulders and gazing at me.

I’m in disbelief, staring up into his eyes, my mouth still open.

He laughs, ducking his head a little. “You don’t have to say anything, y/n. You said enough the other day.” He pauses, licks his lips a little. “Y/n, can I kiss you?”

I can’t help but to smile. “Of course you can.”

His mouth meets mine, and it’s better than anything else in the world.

#timothée chalamet #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #little women #fanfic #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet x reader #laurie laurence fanfic

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theemissuniverse · 6 months

Text

“COMFORT” RAIDEN X COMEDIC RELIEF FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You have problems and you need to let your best friend Raiden know at 3 in the morning. (Takes place before MK1 story mode)

WARNINGS : mentions of abuse and talk of Raiden’s dick

A/N : Something short. I don’t have the luxury to do something big rn

MASTERLIST 1 , MASTERLIST 2

Today was a terrible night for you. A very terrible one. So many things had gone wrong so you went to the only person’s house you could go to. Your best friend Raiden.

It was 3 in the morning. You never used the door. Never. So you did what you always did. You went to Raiden’s bedroom window and opened it.

You slid in but it was dark. You ended up falling on your face in the process.

Raiden woke up like it was the end of his life. He gasped awake and rubbed his sleepy eyes. When he had seen you on the floor, he sighed. “(Y/N). It’s…” He looked over to his alarm. “3 in the morning.”

“I know how to tell time, Raiden!” You said, still not getting up from the ground.

Raiden got out of the bed. He was only in his boxers. He went to help you to your feet and shut the window. “If this is about how to make Ramen noodles again then-“

“No! Jesus Raiden. Not everything is about the glorious taste of Ramen noodles.” You said irritated at him. “I’ve had a terrible day.”

Raiden gave you a look. “Terrible day? We just started the day!”

You took the liberty to flick his forehead. Raiden mumbled a grunt as he felt it. “You know what I meant you bafoon!” You took in a deep breath before starting to tell the story. “So basically-“ You had stopped in mid sentence, admiring Raiden.

Raiden was always an attractive guy to you. (You had the smallest crush on him but that wasn’t the point.) You were used to seeing him shirtless but you had now seen Raiden’s dick print and it was very obvious. “Put some pants on. You’re turning me on a little.”

He shook his head and went to the dresser. He grabbed some pants to put on before turning to look at you. “(Y/N). I love you but I am very tired so please just tell me why today is the end of your life.”

You watched as Raiden started to put the pants on with a sigh. “Fine. Grouchy aren’t we? So, my mom is trying to get me engaged to Eric.”

Raiden’s eyes widen. “Eric?!”

Eric was your abusive ex boyfriend and the only reason why the abuse stopped was because Raiden had physically stopped him. (As Raiden was skilled in fighting and Eric barely knew how to throw a punch.)

He could not believe your mother would do this.

It also stung a little because well, Raiden did have feelings for you. How could he not? You, (besides Kung Lao) were his longest friend he knew.

The chemistry the two of you had was immaculate but Raiden would not ruin a friendship for the sake of a relationship.

“Absolutely not. Why would she even say that?”

“Because Eric has been coming to her house and is telling her a completely different story. He’s trying to say that he was never abusive to me and that you and I are lying about everything.”

Raiden was actually enraged and it took a lot for Raiden to get mad. A lot. “He’s not going to get away with this.”

You saw Raiden about to leave the room but you grabbed onto the hem of his pants and pulled him towards you. “Freeze Radar.” You made him face to you. “Number one…you don’t have a shirt on. Number two…beating him up like you did last time isn’t going to change anything. He won’t leave me alone either.”

You face palmed at the last thing that came out your mouth. You didn’t mean for that to happen.

When you said that, Raiden turned to give you a look. “What do you mean by he won’t leave you alone?” You didn’t speak and Raiden gently grabbed your arm. “(Y/N), I thought we told each other everything.”

You sighed. “We do. I just didn’t want you to worry.” You looked down, not meeting his eyes. “He won’t stop coming by my house. And he’s breaking in all the time.”

Raiden could not believe you could keep something like that from him. “You shouldn’t have kept that from me. You’re not going back there.” Raiden sat on the bed and brought you to sit down next to him. “You can stay here.”

“I can’t just uproot your life just because mine is suckish.”

“Well, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“What about The Great Kung Lao.” You said dramatically with your hands in the air.

Kung Lao was Raiden’s best friend and roommate but he was sure that he wouldn’t care that you would stay with them. (In all honesty, he might even encourage it.) “It will be fine. Trust me.” You had an unsure look on your face. Raiden placed his hand on your thigh. “Hey. Name a single time that I let you down.”

It was true. Raiden never let you down. Not once, not ever. So, you sighed. “My cat is coming with me I hope you know.”

“Of course I know.”

Raiden kissed your cheek. His eyes met yours and he stared at them with what felt like hours. You did the same. It was like the two of you both had a mutual understanding.

His left hand cupped your cheek while your right hand cupped his. The two of you just kept getting lost in each others eyes.

“Raiden?”

“Yeah, (Y/N)?”

“Put a shirt on. You’re turning me on.”

Raiden chuckled a little. His lips gently grazed yours but he did not kiss you. “I turn you on all the time, pretty.”

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk #mk1 #mk 1 #raiden #raiden x reader #kung lao #mk raiden #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mk1 x reader #mk 1 x reader

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coltermorning · 23 days

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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scara-hater · 1 year

Note

Hi this is my first time requesting. Can I request cyno,Thoma,Tighnari, and Itto reacting to finding out you have not been sleeping properly and eating at all only every tiny portions. And the reader didn’t want them to find out.

Sorry if it’s a little complicated I’ve just been having this problem lately and don’t know what to do about it. And none of my family have found out about it.

Thank you so much for your content I love it and will always read it when I’m feeling down

I hope you are doing okay! If there is anything else you’d like to request let me know! Sending my aggressive care!

Not proofread!

Warnings: minimal eating on reader’s end, you literally don’t sleep, my writing.

—

Secrets never stay hidden.

Cyno

You aren’t sure what provoked this change in mentality, but you can feel that it’s slowly affecting you.

Like a poison, it seems to take over your body more each day. Your portions in eating have plummeted immensely, barely able to eat so much as a bite.

And It’s been weeks. You don’t want to burden others with an issue that is clearly your own, So deciding this was the best option, you act as if nothing is different.

“Y/n”

Startled, your paperwork is now ruined, “Oh! Haha, you scared me.” Putting the pen down, you raise your head to look at Cyno, “why are you awake.”

Looking at him confused, you point to the writing beneath you with your eyes. “I have a few things I need to do before I sleep, honey.” Leaning into your seat, you let out a deep exhale.

“Simple work can wait for sunrise, and stop calling me that.” “Not a chance.”

“Fine, then allow me to make you something at least. I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but it’s better than overexerting yourself with nothing to replenish that energy.”

Closing your eyes, you call out as he walks further form your position, “Not necessary, I’m not hungry.” Continue it your previous task at hand, you assume he’s out of earshot.

But he’s just glaring at you scribbling mindlessly and begins to argue, “you haven’t eaten.”

“Cyno, please.” Placing your hand on the bridge of your nose.

“Y/n, you have been deceiving me for quite some time, do not act as if you are well enough to take care of yourself.” You pause, eyes widen for a moment then silence blankets the room.

Inhaling through his teeth, his demeanour relaxes, “I apologize I didn’t see it sooner, but please don’t feel the need to take it all on.” Taking the stacks of documentation and putting it aside, he takes your hand.

“I will not allow your health to be neglected further, lets eat even if it’s small. And by chance you cannot sleep, lay with me at the least.”

He stalks you now to ensure you are taking care of yourself.

Tighnari

You spent countless nights awake, the stress of life has kept your stress running. This throbbing feeling in your eyes is less than pleasant, and it feels like everything is a a hassle to accomplish. The thought of a full meal leaves you uneasy as you are too preoccupied indulging in your mind.

You didn’t know it would be this bad.

Had you known, you would not have mentions to your dear Tighnari that your sleep was off. It was said in passing, but you promised it would get better soon. Telling him to not worry about something so silly and to relax.

But how could he?

He watched your state worsen, you grew weaker and your body is losing it’s physical ability to function. Especially the last couple of days. Your head will nod off as you try to keep it in place, and you seem to be in a state of delusion. You forget to eat, or tell him you can’t because it makes you nauseous.

He’s worried.

“.. Y.. Y/n.. Y/N!” Fingers snap in your face as your vision snapped open. “Ah! I’m awake.” Gaining sometime of consciousness you see your fennec friend knelt to your level, “You said you’ve been sleeping better, are you lying?” “Of course not” leaning back and crossing your arms, you look up as if to prove something. “I’m fine.. and you should mind your own business!.”

How stubborn you are, he thought.

Sighing, he stands up and extends his arm out infront of you. “Well? come on. You and I both know this will end with me dragging you bed if you don’t listen.” Shaking his wrist for you to grab him.

“Fine.”

he quickly snatches your hand and pulls to you the bedroom. Face determined, he messes up the blankets and pillows into a nest-like appearance before he proudly smiles and pats the spot next to him. He totally is like a little fox.

As you lay down, you see he’s on side staring at you, “what?” Your soft voice makes his tail wag and his face graces a smile, “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, even if it’s just this one time.”

Scooting closer to your body, he cradles your figure in hopes to promote your tired state. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and make you something to eat, okay?”

“If you so much as close your mouth one millimetre again, will find another way to feed you, even if it’s painful.”

Itto

He’s so stupid I’m sorry. He forgets you’re just a tiny human, and you don’t have extended limitations.

You’re tired and you don’t have the energy. Work has kept you hostage for hours, and seems to give no mercy when it came to giving you a break.

So when you finally get a day off, you planned on sleeping it away.

But looks like the Arataki idiot Oni Itto wanted to see you.

“YY/NNNNN! My baby, my angel, my-“ bursting though the door of your house, he yells seemingly as loud as he can on. Is he doing this on purpose?

With a groan you sit up to see the giant of a man smiling wide at you. “What is it?” Your hair’s a mess, and your house clothes wrinkled, you glare at Itto for disturbing your one day of peace. “Woah woah woah, you look horrible! What got my cutie all messed up?” Leaning down to in September your state further. Oh he really wants to get hit, you thought. Taking a deep breath, you let it out in hopes to ease your growing irritation,

“Please Itto, another day. I haven’t-“ “ y/nnnn Pweaase can we go out today, pretty pretty pleeaaase?”

He’s not even listening.

Flopping back down, you cover your body in sign to ignore the Oni.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ ! If you ignore me I’ll pretend I don’t know you anymore!” “Please leave my house stranger.” You indulge in his immaturity.

“No way, I haven’t seen you in like, uhhh I don’t know how long - but the point is, it’s been a while! And you don’t look good, gross even!.” “So let’s go eat something, I can bet with how much you work you forgot to.” Oh yeah. You don’t recall eating much in the last week, you should quit that job.

Picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, he walks to the door.

“You can can do whatever you want after, I’m starving so let’s go out! And when we get back, I can hold you and lay with you, maybe even-“

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“And we’re off!”

He doesn’t even know what’s going on.

I’m so sorry this doesn’t even feel like it’s good, I actually feel guilty.

#genshin arataki #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x reader #arattaki itto #genshin cyno #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari #tighnari x y/n #g/n reader #HELP I CAN’T WRITE #arataki itto x reader #arataki x reader #itto x reader #cyno x y/n

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 month

Text

Love Amidst the Blue Ch 2: Captured✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoy chapter two! Joel and mermaid reader are so 🥰 Enjoy all the fluff and please let me know yours thoughts!

Chapter Summary: After discovering a magic necklace that’ll give you what you desire, you get caught in a net and find yourself trapped. It’s not just any boat though, it’s Joel’s boat.

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Chapter Tags: Reader finds a magic shell necklace, pining, fluff, a little bit of angst, tension, longing, Joel takes care of reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you can’t wait to see Joel. You’d stayed awake half the night just daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and calloused hands as you rolled back and forth in the silky pink clam shell bed. You want to see him again, want to ask him about all his sailing adventures and treasures he’s found. So that’s exactly what you’d do. Tonight.

You quickly check your hair in the long standing mirror and pick a rainbow colored sea flower from the ocean floor, spinning around in a circle as you bring it to your face to smell and place it back down in the soft sand. You flick your tail and swim through the kingdom of Capri as you pass other mermaids and mermen, trailing your fingers along golden palace walls and shimmery pearls that hang from strings beside the palace entrance.

Before you can make it out, you run into your father, the king of Capri. “Oh, hi father,” you say dreamily as your head fills with images of Joel’s handsome face.

“Morning, sweetie. Where are you off to in such a hurry? Haven’t seen you lately, you okay?” he asks as he trails his eyes over your lovesick expression, trying your best not to give yourself away.

“I’m okay. Just wanted to get a head start on picking some shells in the kelp beds. You know how I love making jewelry,” you lie, trying your best to keep a straight face as a slight giggle escapes your lips.

Your father looks at you carefully, his golden crown slipping further down his long locks as his glistening gold triton sits next to his intricate throne made of shells. If he suspects something, he doesn’t say. He just nods his head as a smile tugs at his lips.

“Ahh, I see. You always did make the finest jewelry in the kingdom,” he smiles. “Just be careful. Take Scar with you. I’ve been hearing rumors that humans have been getting close to the area. Don’t want you getting tangled up in that nonsense,” he warns, his eyes on fire as he thinks about the day he lost his most precious wife. The day you lost your mom and half your people. That cold, dreadful day.

“Promise, daddy. I’ll be safe.”

Marissa and Cleo narrow their eyes at you in the back of the room, knowing damn well you are in fact meddling in human affairs. You drag your eyes over to them and give them a pleading look, begging them not to say a word. They must acknowledge it because they don’t say a word, they just float and stare at you with beady eyes.

“Alright, well have fun. Just be careful and don’t talk to the eels. They’re always pulling nasty tricks with us,” he says with narrowed eyes.

“Goodbye, daddy,” you say as you wave and head out, swimming through thick beds of seaweed as you pass a school of clown fish.

You don’t get very far until Marissa and Cleo are swimming in front of you, blocking you from going any further.

“Where are you off to really?” Cleo asks as her long blonde hair spirals down her back, her aquamarine tail fanning out as she narrows her piercing blue eyes at you.

“You’re going to see that human again, aren’t you?” Marissa just copies her menacing look and crosses her arms as her tail turns a deeper purple than it was a few minutes ago.

You’re trapped. They know what you plan to do, and there’s no point lying to them. They know. “Tonight, yes,” you confess with a sigh, feeling them judge you harshly by the way they gnash their teeth in your direction.

“You’re so selfish, you know that? Risking our kind, for what? So you can live out your little daydream of finding love with a human? You’re so fucking selfish, sister. So stupid,” Marissa says with sharp incisors snarling in your direction.

You take it upon yourself to fight back, defend your stance. “I’m not being selfish! If you just for once listened to me, you’d know he was different. He doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s going to tell me all about the human world, answer all my questions about being on land,” you fight back, standing up for yourself.

“Pffft. Gods, you’re delusional. You’re going to risk everything!” Cleo shouts as her blaring voice booms through the water. You gasp at the force of her words.

“I’m not though…” you say quietly, biting your lip to soothe the guilt inside your stomach. Maybe you are risking it all, but he wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

“You forget your place in this family,” Marissa snarls bitterly. “Do you remember what happened to Stacia? Remember how she was so sure she found a nice human man? Remember how he dragged a knife through her heart and left her to bleed out on the ocean floor!” The pain in her voice is stifling as you cringe against her rough accusations.

Stacia. Of course you remembered. You remembered how heart broken your mother and father were, remembered him banishing any of his people from ever speaking to humans again. Now all they did was sing their siren songs to sailors while drowning them in the water which you were supposed to be a part of, too…

“Of course I remember! But Joel, he’d never do that…” you say quietly, trying your best not to shed a tear at how furious you are.

“Go on then. We won’t wait up for you,” Marissa says sharply as her and Cleo turn and swim back to the palace.

You sigh and swim the opposite way of them, feeling Scar follow behind as a large shadow takes form over your body. You can already feel Scar’s judgement wearing down on you, can feel the warning that lies in his big eyes.

“Scar, don’t make me feel anymore guilty than I already do,” you sigh out, carrying your body through the crystal clear water as you pass another school of colorful fish. “I know what I’m doing,” you press. He just rolls his eyes and continues following you, watching over you just like you did for him that cold, dark day years ago.

You continue swimming through the blue water as you flip through small rock tunnels and coast along the sandy bottom. You’re so close to your cave full of treasures that you can practically feel your collected items start to hum. Or wait, did you actually hear a buzzing sound?

You dive down further, dodging floating kelp and going into darker regions like places you shouldn’t be going. The water becomes colder, more frigid as you pass in between a rock formation. One that Scar won’t be able to fit through.

You look up at him swimming close by and you can hear his warning words come deep from within him. “Don’t go places where I can’t protect you. You know what lies beneath this area,” he warns as his large tail swishes back and forth, making circles in the water.

“Just give me a second. I hear something. Be right back,” you promise as you push your way through the narrow surface of crowded rocks.

You slide against the rocky terrain and follow the buzzing noise. It seems to reverberate off the rocks, making its way all the way down into your bones. The humming seems to ring in your ears, making its way all the way down to your fast beating heart.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can hear it, can feel it all the way down to your shiny fins. Whatever it is is calling to you, yelling your name as it echoes off the jagged rocks. You can hear Scar slashing against the water, but you keep going. You have to find out what it is.

The narrow rocks form into a wide open area that’s dark and cold, no other fish or coral reefs around this area. It’s a place you shouldn’t be. Before you can turn back around, you hear the humming noise pick up. It burns your ears as white noise takes hold of you, and when you look down is when you see something shiny sitting underneath a long grey rock.

You swim to the bottom of the dark area and brush away the sand that covers the hidden object. When you get ahold of what’s been humming and bring it back into the light, you freeze. What’s now in your hand is a long golden chain that holds the most beautiful clam shell you’ve ever seen before. Soft, creamy orange colors turn to purple and iridescent pink colors as you feel along every crevice of the shell. It’s unique, unlike any you had found before, and now it’s yours.

When you turn around to go show Scar what you have found, you’re stopped in place, unable to move as a long, slimy eel stands in your way of your only exit out of here. You gasp as your eyes go wide, remembering the warning your father had given you earlier.

Don’t talk to the eels, they only want to trick us.

“Well, well, well. So, someone finally found the magic necklace,” she says as she flashes you a sly smirk.

“Magic necklace?” you ask confused as you look back over the shiny shell. It didn’t look magical, not that you could see.

“My dear girl, that there is no ordinary necklace. It only shows itself to those who are worthy, to those pure of heart, to those desperate for something more,” she teases as she slithers around you with her cold, slimy tail.

You knit your eyebrows together and hold it tighter in your hand. “But what does it do? What makes it magical?” you ask conflicted. You shouldn’t be talking to an eel, shouldn’t even be here alone. But yet you stay, unable to leave as you need answers now.

“You long for legs, don’t you?” she smirks as a small laugh echoes around the dark water as you stare into the light that shines from behind the narrow rock formation.

“What makes you say that?” you ask sharply, not wanting to give your intentions away with Joel.

“It’s obvious, dear. That necklace there is a powerful thing. Put it on and you are free to go on land, have legs, explore the human world as if you were a human yourself.”

“What?” you gasp as you feel your eyes widen more.

“Yes, child. Put it on and you’ll never have to worry about being stuck with a tail again. Unless that’s what you want. You’d be free to take it off anytime and return to the sea. It’s up to you, but looks like it’s yours now.”

A low snicker cackles from her sharp teeth and her eyes glow a tinted yellow. Something malicious and evil sits in her voice, and you know something isn’t right. It’s almost like she is tricking you.

“You’re tricking me!” you accuse, voice higher as you shout your accusations.

“Oh, but I’m not. Don’t you trust me?” she laughs as she rubs up against your arm and swirls her tail against the back of your neck. You squirm at her cold touch.

“My father told me not to trust your kind,” you say carefully.

The eel spits in your direction. “Your father is a fool, child. I’m not lying to you when I say that necklace does just that. It’s an old, ancient magic. One so strong that it was kept in a tiny vessel and hidden away many years ago. You keep it safe, and it’s yours. Don’t let anyone take it from you because in the wrong hands it could be very, very dangerous,” she warns as she stalks around you slowly, her flashy eyes staring into yours like a hunter watching its prey.

You examine the necklace in your palm, watching the shiny shell glisten around your hold. The colors seem to swirl like a rainbow, the golden chain calling you to put it on. And you want to, you want to so bad. Human legs? Could you really go on land at your own free will without any consequences? No. There had to be consequences, there had to be something.

“What’s the catch?” you ask nervously, eye darting back to the slimy eel in front of you.

“The catch? Oh, yes. The catch,” she smiles a devious smirk your way that screams danger. This is dangerous, she is dangerous. “The catch is, don’t let it get broken or taken. For if you take it off on land, you have two days to make it back to the ocean.”

“What happens if I don’t make it back in time?” you ask slowly, your voice as quiet as a sea urchin.

“You die,” she warns as your pupils expand into pure terror. “Basically, you’ll turn back into a mermaid and suffocate to death. Your body will turn to dust, and you’ll be left with nothing but a mere breeze carried out to sea.”

“Oh.” You have no words, nothing to say except is this really what you want? To risk your own safety for a human?

“Well, go on now. Put it on, child,” she coaxes, her grimy teeth snarling up at you like a trickster would.

You slowly look at the necklace, turning it over as you think and think and think. Joel. The human world. So many things you want to see. Before you really think it through, you unclasp the latch and throw it around your neck, clipping the clasp into place as the glistening shell sits just above your breasts. This is it. This is what you always wanted. Right?

The eel laughs sadistically, curling her tail along your wrist as she brushes past you back into the dark shadows. “Remember, two days. Be careful out there, child. You never know who you might run into…”

With that, she disappears into the dark depths of a cave, and you waste no time as you swim free of your confined area. You push your way through the narrow, rocky opening and meet scar on the other side. You see him eye your new flashy jewelry and see the way he looks at you as if you had done something bad.

You grip it tight and try to take his focus off it. “It’s nothing, Scar. Just something I found under a rock. It’s nothing to worry about.”

You see him brush past you as he swims ahead of you, and you follow silently. You can already feel the judgement coming off his large body. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken it, maybe this was too risky, but you did. You did. No going back now.

You swim ahead of Scar, pushing your shimmery tail as fast as you can possibly go. You brush up against silky kelp beds, making bubbles swirl up to the surface like a whirlwind. You keep swimming and swimming and swimming until you’re there. Back at the boat. Back at his boat.

Pushing free to the surface, you feel the sunlight rain down on you as bursts of warmth hit your bare shoulders, letting the salt water drip down your radiant face as you slowly slip closer to the grand boat. The water is calm, the boat gently rocking side to side as you watch the sails slowly sway in the warm breeze.

You swim closer, keeping your head down as you circle one side of the boat. You see a crew of men shuffling their way back and forth on the deck, watching the way the men shout to each other as they work. One man with a blue bandanna across his matted hair is untangling a large fishing net, another is scrubbing the deck with an object you don’t know the name of. There’s no sign of Joel though.

You sulk on the surface and slap the edge of the water with your palm as you pout your bottom lip out. One look. You just wanted to see his beautiful face once until you could see him tonight. You slowly turn the other way, about to head back underwater, when suddenly you hear a high pitched whistle from the deck. You turn and freeze, your eyebrows knitting together as you see one of the men staring at you in awe.

Oh no. No, no, no. They weren’t supposed to see you.

He’s still staring at you, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as you hear him call out to the other men on the ship. You sink down into the water, dropping into the dark shadows as you stay still, afraid you’ll be seen again.

You weren’t supposed to go out until tonight. Why didn’t you just wait?

After a few minutes pass, you slip out of the shadows and swim back close to the surface, making sure not to stick your head out of the water. Scar swims past you with a warning, and you turn your head to tell him you’re okay.

“Everything’s fine, Scar. I think it’s safe now. I think…”

Before you can finish your sentence, something rough and jagged falls on top of you. You try to swim away, but your tail gets tangled up and caught in something you can’t quite get out of. As you look back at what it is, your heart drops out of your chest. A net.

“Scar!” you scream, cries of bloody murder reaching the deep depths of the water.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Joel wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

The more you try to squirm, the more your tail gets twisted in the bindings. The net starts to reel you in, taking you up further to the surface. Scar tries to desperately get you out, but the netting only rubs up against his rough skin.

“Go on, I don’t want them to hurt you,” you say sadly to your friend. His big black eyes stare at you, but he silently agrees.

“And don’t tell father or my sisters, please. I’ll find a way back. This won’t be the end,” you promise.

You watch Scar swim off in a hurry, muttering words under his breath as he heads further beneath the darkness. You really hope he’ll keep his word and not tell your father. He’d kill every single man on this boat, including Joel.

As the net pulls you up further, you toss and turn. You lash at the bindings, but it only makes it tighter around your body. Your shimmery scales on your fins feel like they’re about to be pulled off the harder you fight.

Anxiety starts to take over, you feel like you’re suffocating underwater as you’re pulled to the surface. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as the harsh net tears into your skin. You let out a blood curdling scream as the net scratches at your arm, forming a large gash as crimson blood starts seeping out.

You’re going to die, you’re never going to see your family again. Why the fuck did you put your faith in a human? Why?!

Joel hears the horrifying screams and sees his men hauling up the large, heavy net. Cold seaweed filled water starts dripping over the side of the wooden deck as the flash of a sparkly pink tail comes into clear focus.

Joel goes wide-eyed, dropping his golden telescope to the floor as he screams and runs to his crew. “What the fuck are you doing!” His voice is panicked, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes in your terrified face. He’s afraid they’ll kill you.

“Catching a mermaid, cap’n!” Jasper laughs out as he helps haul up his precious treasure. “Told ya mermaids were real, didn’t I?”

Joel’s shocked, his boots frozen to the sea clad wood as his mind races. Without thinking, he runs over to the men and starts pushing them out of the way as the net comes crashing down to the deck. Salt water spills over the edges as you shiver in fright, horror written all over your beautiful face.

Your necklace seems to burn hot against your chest as the orange color glows brightly under the sunlight. You look down at your perfect tail and see the sparkly scales start to shed as the tail starts to evaporate. You stare in horror as your tail splits in two, forming smooth legs in its place.

Suddenly you realize you’re naked as the men stare in hunger, their mouths drooling as they take in your curves. You hug your knees to your chest to try to pry their eyes away. Cold. You feel so cold, so scared as the men surround you like starving hounds. You want to go home. You want to go home. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. They’ll hurt you. They’ll hurt you.

Joel pushes the men out of the way and starts peeling off his white button-up shirt as his worried look encases all of his features. He bends down to your level and wraps the shirt around you to cover your exposed body up.

“Can you guys back up? For the love of God, give her some air! Christ,” he yells out annoyed as he looks back at you with wide eyes, his calloused hand brushing the side of your cheek as you push back out of his reach.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he responds as he puts his hands in the air as if to show he’s harmless. Your body relaxes a little, but you still don’t fully trust him.

“A mermaid, cap’n! What happened to her tail?” a man with shaggy hair hanging over his slumped shoulders and dirty brown shirts yells appalled.

“Didn’t know mermaids could come on land with legs. What sorcery is that?” another rugged pirate asks as he untangles the rough net they used to catch you.

You cover your ears and sink your knees deep into your chest as you hide your face from view. You want to go back home, get away from all the noise of prying eyes and raspy voices. You regret coming to shore, you regret it all, you shouldn’t have come because you trusted a human. How could you have been so stupid?

“Silence!” Joel yells as he bends down to your level and cups your chin as he raises your head to face him. You shiver, your body sinking into itself as you shake from the cold air and damp shirt.

“Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

His calloused fingers linger under your chin, dragging along your smooth skin as you stare into honey flecked eyes. You try to look away, but you can’t escape those eyes. Those beautiful orbs made of light and dark brown flecks mixing together to make the prettiest shade of brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Those alone tell you he’s safe, he won’t hurt you.

Safe. He’s safe.

Your eyes travel down his glistening tan, salt water coated skin as you take in how broad he is. Flexed biceps and spidery veins skating down his entire arms. He’s so handsome.

Suddenly, he’s gripping at your wrist. “Your arm. It’s bleeding,” he says with a rushed breath as he scans the large cut on your forearm. “C’mon, let’s go clean that up. Can you stand?” he asks as he reaches out a large hand.

You take a minute to weigh your options. You can either stay in the presence of the grimy pirates, or you can go with Joel where it’s quiet. You choose Joel. When you lift yourself up with your arms and try to take a step forward, your legs start to shake and your knees cave in. You almost go tumbling to the deck until strong arms catch you before you hit the hard floor.

“Whoa, slow down there. Here, let me help you.” Joel picks you up and cradles you in his arms as he starts to walk toward the stairs that’ll lead him beneath the boat.

“Get back. Give her some air,” Joel growls as his men start to part the sea, dirty bodies backing up to make way for Joel to get through.

You unknowingly sink into his warm chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck so you won’t have to see their wandering gazes to your barely covered body. Joel pulls you tighter against his chest as he feels your discomfort.

“I got ya, sweetheart. It’s alright, they’re not gonna hurt ya. I promise,” he says against the shell of your ear, and somehow you believe him. He’s not lying to you. Why would he?

He takes you down some wooden steps and back into a large room. You slowly peek up from his chest and take a look around the room. Light shines through the little portholes of the boat. A couple of glowing lamps hang from the wooden walls as a table covered by maps and compasses lays in the middle of the room. A small bed with crisp white sheets sits in the left corner of the room, and pictures of the ocean and secluded islands line the walls. It’s very… cozy in here.

“Is this your room?” you ask as your eyes scan the small area. It has to be his room, it just screams Joel.

“Mhm. It’s where I come to sleep and scan out maps when I’m on the boat. I live just up the coast, but I spend so much time out on the water that I needed my own little space. A place where my crew wouldn’t bother me,” he chuckles out as he carefully sets you down in a wooden chair.

“Do they just sleep upstairs?”

“No,” he laughs as he shakes his head, “They have their own little quarters down on the opposite side of the boat. Didn’t need them wakin’ me up with their snoring and drunken nonsense.”

You laugh as you see a smile curl around his soft lips and a dimple forms in the center of his cheek. You swear he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. So strong yet so soft. You get so caught up in his charm that you almost forget you’re shaking and your arm is bleeding.

“You cold, sweetheart?” he asks softly as he grabs a couple of fluffy towels and a first aid kit from the other side of the room.

“Just a little,” you say with chattering teeth as his white button-up shirt barely grazes the bottom of your thighs. You’re very aware now that you’re almost naked in front of him which gives you a weird fluttering sensation in your low stomach that you’ve never felt before. How strange.

“Here ya go. Maybe this’ll help.” He throws a soft white towel over your shoulders, and you wrap it around yourself as it brings you a little comfort and warmth. “Better?”

“Better,” you confirm with the nod of your head.

“Good, that’s good. Now let’s take a look at that arm.”

He rolls the cotton sleeve up slowly and reaches for something that’s in a clear bottle. As he unscrews it, he says, “Now this might sting a bit.”

When he pours some of the liquid onto the cut, you flinch and try to pry your arm away, but he holds tight to it. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright, the worst part is over,” he reassures as he presses a towel into the wound and rests a hand gently on your knee. The sudden shift of his softness makes you stop flinching and makes you look down at him.

His soft brown eyes threaten to swallow you whole, his crooked smile could calm raging hurricanes with how beautiful it shines around the room. Like the sunlight beaming through the waters of Capri, all crystal like and calming.

He watches you closely as he wraps your cut up with some kind of material you don’t know the name of. His touch is so delicate, so soft as he takes the proper care to make sure you’re not hurting anymore.

Warm. He’s so warm. So very gentle. And you see yourself falling for him even more now.

“There ya go. All bandaged up. We can probably take this off tomorrow, but just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly as your fingers trail along the clothed material that covers your wound.

“It was nothin’, don’t even mention it. It’s the least I can do for my stupid men catchin’ you in that net. I’m really sorry for that, I had no idea. Those men had no right and I’m gonna give them hell about it the rest of the week and…”

You silence him as you reach your shaky arm out and cup the side of his jaw as your thumb trails along the lines of his dark, patchy scruff. His eyes widen as he looks up at you under the fringe of his dark eyelashes. His full attention is on you now.

“Joel, it’s okay. I know now you didn’t mean to harm me. You don’t have to apologize for them. It wasn’t your doing.”

“Yeah, but still. They could’ve harmed you even more if I wasn’t there. They could’ve…”

“Joel.” Your calming voice stops him again as the panic seems to leave his eyes for good. “It’s okay, really.”

Joel looks unsure of himself but nods his head anyway. His calloused fingers still graze along your knee as the contact of his skin on yours seems to send a fire down your legs.

Legs. That’s right, you have legs now. Joel’s eyes look down at your long, smooth legs as he takes them in slowly, his eyes shifting back up to yours as one of his hands slide down one of your calves cautiously. Your breathing hitches at the feel of his calloused fingers on your skin.

“How is this possible? Your legs, I mean. I didn’t know mermaids could exist out of the water,” he says with the expression of surprise written all over his tan face.

“With this,” you say as you hold up the iridescent shell necklace around your neck, watching the way the pink and orange colors shine around the room from the glow of the outside sun. “It’s a magic necklace I found. As long as I wear this, I’ll have human legs. I’m free to take it off whenever to go back to sea, but I have to wear it on land to be able to survive outside the water.”

Joel reaches up and cups the shell in his hand, tracing the crevices of the shell with his thumb as his brows knit together to take in everything you just said. He looks starstruck, not believing his own eyes as he sets it back down to your chest.

“Magic necklace, huh? Mermaids? This is all unbelievable,” he chuckles as he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I met a mermaid this week, and now you have legs? Christ,” he murmurs as he stands up and starts pacing back and forth in front of you while his right hand rakes through his thick scruff.

“Is that bad?” you ask cautiously, afraid he’ll leave at any second and leave you here all alone.

He stops pacing and comes back over to you. He bends back down on one knee and gently cups your face as you gasp out in surprise. The touch of his hand is so warm, so soothing. You want to stay like this forever.

“No, sweetheart. S’not bad. It’s just… how is it that I met the most beautiful mermaid and got you on my boat now? It’s almost like it’s…”

“Fate?” you answer for him, your eyes sinking into his light honey eyes that seem to set your soul on fire.

“Exactly that. Fate.” He repeats as he looks closely into your eyes.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip as his brown eyes flick to your mouth. He looks like he wants to kiss you, looks like he wants to devour you with his plush lips that call to you like one of your siren songs. He’s so close, so very close as he grazes his thumb gently back and forth.

Before you can react, he gets up off his knee and holds out his hands to you. “Can you walk?” he asks as he reaches out to you.

“I don’t know…” you answer quietly as you shift your feet beneath you.

“C’mere. I’ll help you. I won’t let you fall, promise.”

You nod and take one more look at your new legs before you grab his hands and lift yourself up. Your legs shake beneath you, but Joel has a strong grip on you.

“Alright now. Take a few steps for me, walk towards me,” he instructs as you listen to his words. You take one, two, three steps as your feet start to get a hold of how to move on their own. Your legs feel more firm underneath you the more steps you take. Joel leads you around the whole living corridors as you take one hand off him.

“There ya go, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Now try without me. Go on.” He slips his other hand from you and watches as you take the next few steps over to him without any help. Your legs feel stronger, more powerful with each step you take. It’s not so hard after all.

“I think I’ve got it!”

“Yeah, think ya do, sweetheart.” He crosses his arms and leans against the hollow table as the warm brown flecks in his eyes seer into yours like two stones being melded into one.

You smile up at him shyly and then come across the maps splayed all across the table in a heap. Your fingers trail along the sheets of paper as you take in all the different markings on the maps. Red circles, black lines, words sprawled in different locations on the maps. It looks like he was studying them closely.

“Are these yours?” you ask curiously as he circles around and comes up next to you.

“Yeah, these are all mine,” he answers as he twists one of the colorful maps around.

“What are you looking for?” you ask wondrously as you scan along a long line next to the shoreline.

“Well, there was a shipwreck many years ago that happened around this area. There’s said to be some rare treasures hidden around this location from the wreck. I’ve been trying to find it for a year now, but no such luck. There’s other areas I could be searching, but this one just piqued my interest. So I haven’t given up.”

Your brows furrow together as you study one of the maps, letting your mind wander into far off places. “Maybe I could help you.”

His eyes go wide as his mouth drops open. “You’d help me?”

“Why not? I know these waters better than anyone. And treasure? It’s one of my favorite things to find. I’m always collecting what I can from shipwrecks that people don’t even know about.”

“Really?” he asks incredulously as stares at you in wonder, like you’re a goddess from another world.

“Really,” you giggle as you face back towards him, “but only if you show me your world, too.”

His eyes fade into a warm honeysuckle brown as his lips relax into a crooked smile. “Deal.”

As your eyes fade back down to the marked up maps, he starts to tell you something else. “Ya know, I have a whole room back at home full of treasures I’ve collected over the years. In fact, I have an entire library full of artifacts and books you’d probably love.”

Your eyes shoot up in a frenzy as your mouth drops open. “You do?”

“Mhm. Ya know, I was plannin’ to go back home for a few days tomorrow. Would you… would you want to come back with me? I could show you around the land. Could show you around my place. Could show you anythin’ you wanted to see.”

Your eyes gaze into his as his hand slowly grazes over yours, and you swear you see stars in his eyes. “I’d show you the whole world, gorgeous.” He grabs your hand and brushes his lips over the back of your knuckles, and you about drop to your knees right there.

Charming. He’s so charming.

“Yes,” you whisper out, your voice deceiving you as you shake your head out of the love sick trance you’re under. “I’d love to see it with you.”

He nods his head and settles it. “Alright then. It’s a deal.”

He drops your hand back to the table, and he spends hours after that showing you all his maps, telling you all about his adventures on the water, and you just soak in every bit of him that you can.

By the time the sun goes down and the lanterns light up the dim area, you’re yawning and trying hard not to fall asleep. Throughout all the events of the day, it’s just about knocked you completely out.

“Here, why don’t you take my bed tonight? You look exhausted.”

You shake your head and try to refuse. “No, no. I couldn’t possibly take your bed.”

Joel places a hand gently on your bicep and lingers there. “Please, just take it. I have a small cot in the corner I can dig out. I’m alright, you take the bed tonight. Please.”

His calloused fingers linger on your arm, and you feel the heat all the way through the cotton shirt as it simmers down into your blood like hot lava filling your lungs. You take another look at his lips that hang just inches from yours and whisper out quietly, “Okay.”

He drops his hand from your arm and grabs a clean t-shirt from his small cedar closest. “Here, put this on. I'm sure you want something more comfortable to sleep in. I’ll get you some real clothes tomorrow. There’s so many dresses I think you’d love, I’ll pick some up tomorrow,” he confirms as he holds out his hand for you to take the white cotton t-shirt.

Your hand grazes his, and you can’t help but always gasp when his skin comes in contact with yours. It feels electric, like you were made to touch him. You take the shirt from him and he turns around and walks to the other end of the room. “Go on now. I won’t peek. Just want ya in somethin’ more dry.”

Your eyes flick to him, and he keeps his word. You quickly unbutton the long sleeved shirt and drop it to the floor. When the shirt hits the ground, you see Joel fighting with himself to not take a quick peek at your body. You hang there for just a second gazing across at him. You watch the way his strong back muscles flex as his jaw clenches up, his fist flexing at his side as he fights to keep himself composed.

You almost wish he’d turn around because there’s a weird sensation between your thighs that you can’t quite pinpoint. Strange. He makes you feel so strange. So alive. It’s just so weird.

You avert your eyes from Joel and slide the cotton shirt over your head as it grazes your thighs. You climb into bed and feel just how comfortable the soft sheets and white blankets feel on your skin. This might even be more comfortable than your shiny clam shell bed back under the sea.

“Alright, I’m dressed,” you confirm as he slowly turns around and walks over to you as his boots scuff across the wooden floor.

“Is it warm enough for ya? You comfortable enough?” he asks as his hands come to rest on the side of the bed.

“Mhm. It’s perfect,” you yawn as you turn to the left to get a better view of his sun tanned face.

“Good. Well, get some sleep, sweetheart. Got a busy day tomorrow.”

He trails his fingers over your jawline as he runs the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone slowly. Your breath hitches in your throat as he so carefully grazes it down to your bottom lip again. You really think he’ll kiss you this time, but he crushes those hopes as soon as he drops his fingers from your face.

“Let me know if you need anythin’, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

You sigh and watch him set up his little cot in the corner of the opposite side of the room, wishing he was in the bed with you instead. As he sits down after it’s set up, you start to close your eyes as the last few words leave your lips before darkness takes over. “Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, my little mermaid.”

And then you fade into the darkness.

Joel stays up for the next hour just watching you sleep. He watches the way your hair falls over your shoulders as you hug the cotton pillow to your cheek. He watches the way your chest rises and falls softly when you sleep. He notices the long eyelashes that kiss your skin as a small smile creeps over his lips. He thinks you’re so beautiful, so perfect. He knows he’s falling fast, he knows he should be more careful, but with you he doesn’t want to be cautious. He wants to dive in head first and drown in your saltwater coated skin. He wants to be the one. He wants to be your only one. And he will be. He will.

Tags: @morallyinept @littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @vividispunk @pedroswife69 @maried01 @vee-bees-blog @keylimebeag @pedrostories @poeticpascal @tuquoquebrute @bbyanarchist @sheepdogchick3 @forgetmenotsexy @ayamenimthiriel @readingiskeepingmegoing @dreamingofleon @syd-djarin @dugiioh @amyispxnk @msjarvis

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #mermaid au #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #sailor! joel #little mermaid aesthetic #mermaid fem! reader #love amidst the blue #joel fanfic #joel miller fluff #soft!joel miller #protective joel #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au

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kaminocasey · 3 months

Text

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Part 3

Summary: You get into an accident and are transported to the Star Wars galaxy permanently... for the time being. In the meantime, you get closer to Rex.

Pairing: Captain Rex x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Angst, reader gets into an accident in the real world, Hardcase lives though!

WC: 4.2K

A/N: HELLO I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated most of my fics, BUT the good news is, I'm focusing on four of my big fics this year: Dream A Little, Sacred Woman, Bonsoir, and Loverboy. I'll also do small fics and try to update the smaller fics when I can! ANYWAY, I am really excited about this fix it fic <3 (pics from Pinterest) AND A HUGE shoutout to my girl @idledreams for reading over this COUNTLESS times and still hyping me up over it (Along with all my writing) You're the best! <3

Dream A Little Masterlist │ Playlist

Don’t panic.

DON’T. PANIC.

“I meant someone else. I’m not confident that I can-”

“Cut the osik. What’s going on?” Kix crosses his arms, his eyes still narrowed at you.

How are you supposed to get out of this? He clearly knows you well enough to know you’re lying. What if you just tell him the truth? He’ll more than likely think you’re crazy. You’re still not entirely convinced you’re not.

This is all just starting to feel too real for you, so you close your eyes and will yourself awake.

Wake up.

WAKE. UP. Goddammit. Why isn’t it working?

Kix sighs your name, making your eyes snap open again.

“Just talk to me.” Kix sighs, a pleading look in his eyes.

Clearly the two of you are good friends here in your dream or alternate reality, or whatever this is.

“Do you promise to not think I’m crazy or to not tell anyone if I tell you?” You ask him, your pleading look matching his own.

He nods. “Of course.”

As the two of you walk in silence to a more secluded spot, you try to figure out how to tell him the truth. Even though he promised to not think you’re crazy, that doesn’t mean he can stop the intruding thought from popping into his head. And you can’t really blame him. Would you believe you if you were in someone else’s shoes?

“Okay…” You breathe out as you find a closet and go inside. “Okay…”

Your hands start fidgeting, clenching and unclenching as you pace in the small space. Kix murmurs your name again, stopping you so that you look at him.

“It’s alright.” He assures you.

You nod, wanting to believe him.

God, why can’t you wake up?

“I’m not from here…” You start.

He laughs, confused. “Okay?”

“I’m not from this… reality?” You still struggle to find the words.

“What do you mean?” His brows furrow as he struggles to understand what you’re saying.

You shake your head, still trying to find the words.

“Do you know how when I first woke up yesterday, I woke up confused?”

He nods. “I heard about it.”

“That’s because I’d never been here before…”

You’re still timid to tell him this is all a tv show in your reality.

You continue anyway. “My ‘real’ life is somewhere that is different from this galaxy…”

Kix’s face goes from confused to disbelief rather quickly. You still can’t really believe it yourself.

“I go to sleep at night there and then I’m somehow transported here…”

“Okay…” He murmurs. “I mean, I’ve heard and seen way stranger things happen.”

“Y-you believe me?”

“I have no reason not to. I know for a fact that you’re not crazy.” He smiles softly and you let out a huge sigh of relief. “Unless you’re having some sort of mental breakdown…”

You give him a pointed look and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“Okay. Not a mental breakdown. Got it.” He nods, smiling.

He believes you.

“Do you not think anyone else would believe you?” He asks.

You shrug. “Maybe Rex?”

It was only a few moments ago that you found yourself wanting to tell him everything. He’s easy to talk to. That still surprises you.

Kix smirks knowingly and you roll your eyes.

“Focus please.” You try to hide the flustered expression that is inevitably on your face right now.

“I’m just saying-”

All of a sudden, you and Kix are interrupted by a random 501st trooper as the door slides open and he looks between you and Kix, clearly embarrassed and thinking he walked in on something going on.

“I was looking for towels-” The trooper explains, apologetically.

“It’s alright. I was just leaving…” You look at Kix. “I’ve gotta find Rex.”

A bad feeling settles in your stomach as you quickly walk out of the closet, finding the exit to the building with the only thing on your mind being saving Hardcase.

The moment you wake up, you groan into your pillow with frustration and try to will yourself back to sleep. To no avail, of course. “Goddammit.” You murmur, concern automatically coursing through your body.

All this stuff that’s going on in your “dream world” is starting to take a toll on your body. As you sit up, you feel tense, as if you’d been nervous all night. Stretching your aching limbs, you look over at your clock and realize it’s almost noon. Which means you’re running late for your lunch with your mother.

With a quick restless groan and one last stretch, you practically throw yourself out of the comfort of your bed and race around your room, throwing new clothes on and then running to the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. You very quickly pull it back and then grab your coat and bag and head out.

Debating whether or not it would be quicker to walk or catch a cab. It’s only a couple of blocks away, and knowing noon traffic in New York, it probably has to be quicker to walk/run.

Your phone starts ringing the moment you get into the elevator. When you pull it out of your bag, you see that your mom is calling. Knowing you’re about to get an earful for being late, you debate on sending it to voicemail and just texting her an apology. But then you’ll have to hear about that when you get there. So you answer.

“Hello, mother. I’m so sorry-”

“Should we just reschedule when it's convenient for you?” She snips.

“No, mom… I’m sorry, I just overslept is all…”

“I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes. There are people staring at me, probably thinking I’ve been stood up. By my own daughter, no less.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t stand you up, mother. I’m literally on my way.”

“How far away are you?”

This angry, irritable version of your mother is completely different than the one who had been singing to you the last couple nights. If you weren’t used to it, perhaps you’d have whiplash. But nope, this has been your whole life.

“Maybe 10 minutes.” You tell her as you get out of the elevator and start walking out of your building.

Cool air practically whips you in the face and brings tears to your eyes as you see there’s still lingering snow on the sidewalk.

“Have a good day!” Your doorman, Frank, tells you.

“Thank you, Frank! You as well. Tell Marla I said hello!” You grin.

“Will do, sweetheart.” He kindly tips his hat toward you and you start practically sprinting down the street.

“Who’s Frank?” Your mother demands.

“My doorman.”

“And Marla is?”

“Frank’s wife, mother.”

“He seemed a little too friendly with you.”

“Oh good grief, mom… He’s been the doorman for my building for longer than I’ve been alive. His wife bakes me cakes for my birthday.”

“Oh good, your father just got here.” She doesn’t even listen to you, which gives you a premonition on how lunch is going to go. “We’ll see you when you get here.”

She hangs up on you and you shake your head, putting your phone back into your bag and then walking briskly the rest of the way there.

When the restaurant comes into sight, you see your mother and father in the corner window and start to wave, thinking they see you. Luckily the pedestrian sign turns green and you start booking it across the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, the last thing you hear is “LOOK OUT!” from someone behind you and when you turn to look, a car is speeding through their red light.

And then you squeeze your eyes shut.

You’re hyper aware of your shut eyes, of the darkness. Everything feels fuzzy. Are you breathing? You take a breath. It doesn’t feel quite necessary though… You need to wake up. You can tell that much.

So wake up.

You open your eyes but it's immediately too bright. Like a bright white light.

Oh great… I’m dead. Wonderful… You think to yourself. What happened?

You rub your eyes until you can stand the light again, finding that you’re standing.

Weird, but okay.

There’s a white end table that looks like the one beside your couch at your apartment. On it sits a single picture frame. You stare at it, inspecting the silver frame. It’s a picture of you, your mom, and your dad on your fifth birthday. You look genuinely happy and excited, smiling wildly at the large birthday cake in front of you lined with at least a hundred candles.

Who makes a little kid blow out a hundred candles? Your mother who had to make sure you had the best birthday in your entire pre-k class.

Raising your hand to pick it up, something stops you.

No… not something.

Someone. Someone’s deep, soothing voice.

Rex.

You’d know that voice literally anywhere. It sounds like he’s right next to you, and you can’t quite understand what he’s saying, but a deep ache fills your veins. You miss him terribly.

You turn around to throw your arms around him, but find that you’re standing in a familiar, yet unfamiliar doorway. You’d recognize a medbay a mile away.

“Come back to me, cyar’ika…” Rex’s soft voice pleads. “There’s so much I need to say to you… so much I didn’t get to tell you.”

You look at your vitals up on the screen beside the bed you’re lying unconsciously in, confused. Did something happen here to you? You turn back around and no longer see the picture frame.

Instead, you see yourself in a hospital bed, your parents next to you and then it all comes back to you.

The crosswalk… The car.

You don’t understand… How are you looking at two versions of yourself? Where are you? Why are you seeing two versions of yourself?

But deep down, you think you know…

You have to choose right now. You don’t exactly know for sure what that entails. If you choose one, would you eventually be able to go back to the other?

There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?

You take one last look at your mother and father asleep in a couple chairs next to your hospital bed and then walk the other way.

When you wake up, the lights are still a little bright. But you can see Rex’s face perfectly next to yours.

“Rex.” You murmur, taking his hand.

His eyes widen with relief and he swiftly stands up, over you, hugging you to him. You can’t help the warmth that spreads from head to toe at the touch of this man as you notice that he’s not wearing his upper plastoid armor. His chest is so warm and firm that you can’t stop yourself from placing your hand over where his heart is and breathing in his familiar vanilla and warm ocean breeze scent.

“What happened?” You ask, you look up at him.

He pulls away, slightly, his brows still furrowed with concern.

“Kix said that the two of you had a conversation and then you went to go find me… You passed out again. But this time, you weren’t waking up at all. And then you started to crash, but Kix got you stabilized. That was three days ago…” You can see that it's difficult for him to talk about it.

It’s beyond clear to you that he really cares about you and you’d be lying if you said your entire heart doesn’t do a somersault at the realization.

“I’m not going anywhere for a while now… okay?” You try to assure him.

“See… what does that mean?” He scoots down to the chair so he can fully look at you.

“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.” You murmur, noticing the way his thumb is brushing over your knuckles.

It's almost intoxicating, the effect he has on you. An effect no man has ever had on you.

“I could never think you’re crazy.” He flashes a soft, amused, smile and your chest tightens at the sight.

And with a smile like that, how could you deny him? So, you tell him everything that you told Kix. Every detail, aside from the tv show bit.

After a few moments, Rex lets out a breath. “Wow…”

You expect him to pull away, call you crazy, and leave. But he doesn’t. He continues brushing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles in an almost hypnotizing manner.

“I know…” You murmur. “So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”

He lets out a soft, amused snort. “We live in a world where a certain type of people have powers and run around with laser swords. I don’t think anything is outside the realm of possibility anymore.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips. “Okay, good point.”

It’s quiet for a moment before you look around and see that you’re in a medbay somewhere.

“So, where are we?” You ask him.

“We’re back on the Jedi cruiser.” He looks toward the doors.

“And Umbara…?”

“We won. Krell is imprisoned.” He smiles.

“And Hardcase?”

His soft smile widens a bit. “Hardcase is okay. He has a few burns and bruises, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Relief floods your entire body.

“And the 212th?”

“All perfectly fine.” He promises you.

You let out a relieved sigh and close your eyes, bringing your hand to your chest.

“You’re sweet to care so much, you know… It’s one of my favorite things about you.” He admits and your chest tightens.

“Rex, I-” You smile, but are interrupted by Kix’s cheery voice.

“She’s alive!” Kix comes to your bedside, opposite his brother.

“I’m alive.” You nod, a smile still on your lips.

At least you think you’re alive. You’re still not quite sure, yet.

“The boys have been hounding me about seeing you. I told them not until you woke up and only if you felt like it. I can make them go away, just say the word.” Kix tells you.

You let out a playful sigh. “Send ‘em in.”

Kix nods with a playful smirk and turns to walk out.

“I’ll let you visit.” Rex tells you and you start to protest, not wanting him to go. “I’ll see you tonight, I promise.”

He smirks down at you as he brushes your hair off your forehead. And before you have time to process that, he kisses you on the forehead, making your eyes flutter closed for a moment.

A simple, yet meaningful enough gesture that your chest tightens. You’ll never forget it.

He throws you a quick wink and makes his way out of the medbay just as four large men in 501st blue armor come filing in, already rowdy and clearly excited to see you.

“Look at you!” Fives’ voice booms, making himself comfortable next to you as he slings an arm around the top of the bed. Hardcase and Tup sit on either side of your feet while Jesse stands at the foot of the bed, checking your chart on the data pad.

“How are you really?” Jesse asks you, concern laced in his tone.

“I’m fine.” You assure him, a wide grin unable to leave your lips.

You still can’t believe that this is your new life.

“Thank the Maker.” Tup pats your foot.

As you look around at the four men, you’re overcome with so many emotions and feelings, with acceptance and belonging coming in right at the top of the list. You feel like you’ve finally found a place you belong.

But at what cost?

“How’s your head?” Hardcase asks you, grinning.

“I should be asking you that.” You smile as you take in his patches that are covering his burns.

He chuckles. “My head is always loose, so nothing out of the ordinary here. In fact, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.” He pats your foot, appreciatively.

“Yeah, how did you know about the droid and the missile?” Jesse asks you.

You shrug, nonchalantly. “Just had a feeling.”

“Well, lucky for us that you had feelings.” Fives ruffles your head and Kix throws his hands up in the air with exasperation.

“Be careful with her!” Kix tells him. “She’s gone through enough-”

“Aw, come on, Kix. She can handle a 501st boy, can’t ya?” Fives elbows you teasingly and you give him a playful glare, going absolutely warm in the face.

“Alright. Visitation is over.” Kix starts to usher out his brothers. “She needs some rest.”

“Yeah, she does!” Fives grins. “Especially for later.”

Fire creeps into your cheeks with thoughts of a certain captain and his promise of tonight. “Later?”

“Yeah, when we take ya to 79s to celebrate you not being dead.” Hardcase says, a little loudly.

79s. The clone bar. The bar you’ve thought about many times throughout your multiple watches, always wondering what it would be like to get to see the men you care about let loose after their endless days and nights on the battlefield. They deserve to have fun and be carefree, for however long that may be.

“Is that okay Doctor Kix?” You smile.

How easy it is to tease and joke with him, as if you’d been friends for a lifetime and not just a mere few days. Now whether or not it has to do with the fact that you’ve watched the show countless times or because you’ve apparently had a whole life here before you “arrived”, you’re not sure. All you can do is go along for the ride, right?

He rolls his eyes with his signature smirk. “Sure. As long as you get some rest now.”

“You heard him, boys.” You shrug, teasingly.

One by one, each man files out after giving you some sort of well wishes. It’s incredibly sweet how each man cares for you, making you feel like you truly belong. You never had this sort of connection with people in your other life.

When they leave, you lay there for a while, listening to the low hum of the cruiser, still unable to believe that you’re actually here.

You’re in Star Wars… Wow.

The urge to get up and explore is strong. But you promised Kix that you would rest. And you can only assume you’ll be back on Coruscant soon, so there’s no point in upsetting him.

But still… you’d be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t afraid to go to sleep here… Will you be transported back into your other life? Or perhaps worse?

You lay there for a while, staring up at the durasteel ceiling as Kix comes in with a data pad.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He comes to the edge of the bed.

You sit up, crossing your legs. “I’m afraid to go to sleep.”

He nods, understanding. He and Rex are the only ones who would. “I made up this data pad for you. Information about you before you kinda popped into your own life here. And, your bag of clothes. There should be some civies in there.”

“Civies?”

“Non military clothes.” He chuckles.

He hands you the data pad and the bag, and you take them, touched at the gesture.

“Thank you, Kix. This means a lot.”

“I just… I have one question.” He murmurs. “How do you know what’s going to happen? You never said.”

You sigh, knowing you weren’t going to be able to avoid this question forever. “This is all a television show where I’m from.”

“Television?” He looks confused.

“Um… I think they’d be called like holo-shows here?” You try to make him understand.

“Why would anyone want to watch a ‘show’ about us?” He laughs.

You laugh with him. “Lots of people do. Lots of people care about the clones in my reality.”

He sits next to you. “Thank you.”

You nod and the both of you are quiet for a moment.

“Would you like a tour?” He grins.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You clap your hands together, excitedly.

Kix lets you run to the bathroom, apparently they’re called freshers, so you can change. You put your bag up on the counter and look inside. Sure enough, there’s a couple pairs of nonmilitary clothes that are your size exactly.

It still all feels… surreal.

You try not to dwell on it too much, afraid that you could accidentally go into what Kix called a mental breakdown a few days ago.

A few days… that’s how long you’d been knocked out here. It had only felt like moments…

Snap out of it. Get dressed. Think about something else. Literally anything else.

Rex comes to mind instantly. Someone who’s given you a sense of calmness in this massive storm. You can’t wait to see him again, you think to yourself as you get dressed and then exit the fresher, finding Kix looking down at his own datapad.

“Ready.” You smile softly.

He looks up at you, his smile matching your own. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” You nod.

“Good. Come on.” He nods towards the door and you follow him out into the hall.

As you walk down the long halls of the cruiser, you can’t help but stare at almost everything in awe. Kix points out the barracks, the mess hall, and the other medbays.

“You know, it might help if you at least try to act like you’ve been here for the last couple years.” Kix teases.

“I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve dreamt of this moment for… so long.” You confess.

“So you were… what do they call them?” He snaps his fingers playfully. “A fan?”

You playfully bump your shoulder into his. “Shut up.”

“I would ask who’s your favorite but it’s pretty obvious.” He teases again.

“Yeah. Obviously Fives.” You shrug with a smirk as you look in each room in the hall.

Kix laughs and then looks down the hall. You follow his gaze and see Rex, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka Tano coming this way toward you and it takes everything in you to keep it cool.

You’d already seen Anakin the first day you were here, but now… it’s different. You know you’re not dreaming, and it feels more real.

It truly is like seeing a celebrity. You’ve looked up to these characters- people for so long. And now, here they are in front of you. Life truly did not prepare you for this moment.

“Generals. Commander.” Kix nods.

“Kix.” Anakin nods and then murmurs your name. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” You nod. “Uh- General.”

Kix and Rex share a knowing smirk.

“We owe you a thanks for figuring out that Master Krell was working against us.” Obi-Wan tells you.

You nod again. “No problem.”

“You know, you might be in the wrong profession.” Anakin chuckles.

“I agree, it seems like you could’ve made quite a career in espionage.” Obi-Wan compliments you with a half grin.

You laugh. “Well if there’s anything I can do for you… just let me know.”

“We will.” Obi-Wan nods and starts to walk away with Anakin.

Ahsoka gives you a wave and you wave back, still practically starstruck.

Rex stays behind and smiles down at you.

“I’ll see you guys tonight at 79s.” Kix grins and walks away.

For being told he was part of a tv show, he sure is handling the news well. Probably better than you would.

“Hi.” You smile up at Rex.

“Hey there.” He nods for you to follow him. “I want to show you something you’ve not seen yet… personally, at least.”

“Lead the way.” You follow beside him, unable to hide your smile.

Does he know you’d follow him no matter what? You chose this life not only to help save this galaxy from Palpatine, but also for Rex.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, softly, glancing down at you as you walk.

“I’m feeling a lot better.” You promise him.

It’s true. You don’t feel exhausted for the first time in a really long time. You feel more awake.

“I’m relieved to hear that.” He tells you.

You don’t realize where he’s taking you until you get to the flight deck. You look at all of the starships, gunships, and walkers, still unable to believe your eyes. When you walk up to one of the walkers, you feel along the side of it, the cool durasteel making you smile.

When you look back at Rex, he’s giving you an amused smile.

“What is it?” You ask, taking your hand away, self-consciously.

He shakes his head with a shrug. “You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

“Was I not before?” You tease.

He immediately becomes flustered, trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m just kidding.” You grin.

Rex lets out a sigh of relief and nods for you to follow him.

“This is what I wanted to show you.” He walks up to the ray shield and that’s when you see it.

The dancing blue hues of hyperspace. Your lips part and a small gasp escapes as you grab onto Rex’s arm, unable to look away from it. You're feeling something so profound that words just can't convey.

“Oh my god. It’s even better than I imagined it would be.” You think you practically have tears in your eyes. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Rex murmurs.

Except he’s not looking up at the hyperspace lights. He’s only looking at you.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #x reader #alternate realities

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thesuperiorrobin · 2 years

Text

“I don’t like sleeping alone anymore ”

❥Pairing: Damian Wayne x FemReader

❥word count: 997

❥Summary: Damian confronts you after acting weird this past couple of days do Ku to find out you haven’t been sleeping, but for what reason?

❥Warning: mentions of nightmares

You had always had trouble sleeping, to the point where you had to go to the doctor so they could prescribe you medication but that never worked. The nightmares that you suffered constantly always came back. The lack of sleep had caused you to zone out in the middle of class, Damian had noticed. Noticing the way you would fall asleep and quickly jolt awake made him worry. He thought you were just pulling all nighter for an upcoming test, but that wasn’t the case here.

It wasn't until he had come to visit you during his patrol late at night when he realized.

You always leave your bedroom window open for him, making it easier for him to enter and he finds you struggling to keep yourself awake—sitting by your desk, leaning over it with a bright lamp as the only light source in your room. Watching as your head bobbles itself up and is trying to keep the weight up.

He frowns, gently walking up to you—the ex-trained-assassin's footsteps are quiet as he approaches you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You jolted wide awake, head snapping to the side to see who’s hand it was. Eyes soften when you realize it was just Damian in his Robin suit.

“Oh Damian!” You whispered loudly— for only him to hear fearing you might wake up your sleeping parents “sorry. I was getting homework done. Math and my forensic class are really kicking my ass this semester”

A tired laugh escapes past your lips as you try to hide back a yawn.

“Are you alright, beloved?” Damian worriedly tilts his head “you’ve been….more inactive lately. Not in a bad way, but in a way that doesn’t seem yourself”

When Damian worries about you it makes you feel guilty. Not because he’s focused just on you but because you don’t tell him what’s bothering you. He always reassures you that you are his top priority—having a whole conversation between the two of you about why you’re first and his life outside of Damian Wayne comes second. You think saving the world is more important than you having silly nightmares that will eventually go away at some point.

“Oh it’s nothing. I’ve just been caught up with school and all I barely have time to sleep”

You lied and Damian knows it—which pains him even more. He lets out a soft sigh as his hands grasp the chair you sat on and he pulls it towards him. He grasps your hand shortly after and pulls you up to your feet.

“You’re having trouble sleeping,” he says. Pulling you away from your desk and turning off the light—still having a tight soft hold on your hand. “Those circles under your eyes tell me you haven’t slept not an ounce in a while. Have you not?”

Your silence was enough for him as he dragged you to your bed. He motions for you to get comfortable and you do so without a word. Silently watching as he opens your closet—pulling out a pair of night clothes fit for him, seeing as he left him in your bedroom when he secretly sleeped with you during summer vacation. You play with your fingers as he changes. Damian doesn’t like the silence you give him. He rather have you talk his ears off like you always do, talking about random subjects that come to mind. When you didn’t do that however he knew something was wrong.

“What wrong y/n” Damian climbs into bed, sitting right next to you as he once Gaona graos your hand into his. His thumb is softly rubbing at the back of your hand.

“It’s nothing really” you let out a laugh hoping to make things a bit more lighter “I’m just tired from all the school work”

“You are lying, beloved. And the only reason I know that is because you aren’t looking me directly in the eyes like you a always do”

You always hated how observant Damian was.

“Please tell me what’s wrong”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders—pulling you closer to his side as you gripped his fingers snuggling closer into his side. Having a wave of protectiveness and a warm feeling in your chest. He gently rubs his tan cheek against yours, digging his face into your neck.

“Never” he whispers into your ear.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips and Damian holds you tighter.

“Nightmares” you choke back a small sob “they just keep coming back. No matter what I do. No matter how much help I get they always come back. I know they aren’t real but…they just feel so real it’s scary. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll come true. I can’t keep doing it. I can’t keep going to sleep if those nightmares keep coming back. And I can’t keep staying up. I’m losing my mind—im falling behind in most of my classes. I just can’t- I just don’t like to sleep alone anymore-“

Damian listened carefully, still holding you close as you cried out to him about your nightmares. The ones that keep you up—hunting you. He mentally wishes he could just fight them for you but that’s just a silly thought. He waits until you’ve calmed yourself down. Once you’ve done that he lays the both of you down. Fixing the position you were both in.

Laying on your side in your lover's arms. Just the way you liked it.

“You don’t have to worry, beloved” he gently twirls a strand of your hair or two around his finger, “as silly as I’m about to sound and as much as it pains me to say—I’ll help you fight those horrid nightmares of yours. Or I’ll do it myself. As for now I’ll stay with you for that night. How does that sound?”

“I’ll…I’ll like that”

#damian al ghul #batfamily #batman x fem!reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian x reader #damian al ghul x reader

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

『paradise lost』 ; 07

❝ nobody has to know ❞

↳ an old acquaintance comes back around at a time when you’re even more in relationship limbo than usual, you know your actions will have consequences should they ever be found out, but maybe the risk is worth the reward.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : park seonghwa x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, angst, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 9.2k

『 warnings 』 : really poor decision making probably, rough sex, consensually recorded sexual acts, oral sex (m), penetrative sex, dirty talking etc they are pretty emotionally careless with one another, horror scene of a twist ending (angst)

“hey lol”

When the text comes through, past the jarring initial response of hopefulness and wishful thinking of who it could be, your next immediate reaction is to hide the screen...turn it the other way, from potentially prying, curious eyes on the other side of the bed.

The problem with that being: you are alone, in your own apartment, not at Hongjoong's as was once common place.

Rolling over in bed and lying on your back, still staring at the screen — reading the time, 2:45am, you hate the fact that you're awake, struggling to sleep these past few nights now on your own, but even more than that, why was he texting you this late, and after so long.

Realistically, it hadn't been that long since your first contact with the man, though. A year or so back at a mutual friend’s graduation party — the tall, pretty guy with the long black hair in the front, sides and back shaven short — you recall being wholly unsurprised when he tells you that he does some modeling, far more so when he tells you that he's pre-med. Not that a gorgeous man can't be both, of course.

Hitting it off, you exchanged numbers and texted occasionally, but with busy schedules (mostly on his end) it was next to impossible to meet up, and as a result, texting would die off as well.

You hadn't expected to hear from him again; ever, really.

>you: don't think I know you well enough for you to be booty call texting me at 3am

A playful response back, but also testing his motives. The typing bubble pops up almost immediately, and a reply comes through just as quickly.

>Seonghwa: very funny. what a warm welcome. 'wow Seonghwa so great to hear from you it's been so long!' awww thanks, it's nice to hear from you, too.

You roll your eyes at the conversation he begins having with himself, already beginning to type back to him.

>you: men usually text this late for one thing, you know that as well as I do.

>Seonghwa: well I hope that 'thing' is picking out an outfit for a thing I have coming up because that's actually what i'm texting you for. I need your assistance tomorrow.

>you: tomorrow? thanks for the heads up dude...what if I have stuff going on?

>Seonghwa: i'm not above begging. I just got back in town like 45 minutes ago okay i'm working with the best that i've got. we can use the time to catch up. plsplspls.

Rolling your eyes again, you confirm a time and a place with him, receiving numerous different heart and smiley emojis back in response before shutting your phone off and setting it back down on the empty bed space next to you.

Being back in your own place feeling so foreign to you now.

Your mind wanders back to Hongjoong and what it is that he could possibly be up to at this time of night; no doubt out with friends, drinking, smoking, partying — dealing with his emotions the one way he knows best — not. Almost certainly drunk past the point of making good choices and quite probably bringing someone back to the very place you had made yourself so comfortable only days ago.

Screwing your eyes shut tightly, you try to force back the mental image of exactly how your best friend likes to deal with his problems — a couple of stiff drinks and being over, or under, someone else.

Grabbing your phone again, you shuffle through your texting app to bring back up your conversation with Hongjoong, last message sent four days ago — four days since that conversation in his kitchen, him disappearing off to who knows where in a huff after the fact and you texting him that you're taking some of your things and spending some time back at your place.

With no response from him, of course.

“hey lol”

You chuckle at yourself lightly at the fact that you're really considering sending him the same thoughtless text that Seonghwa had just sent you minutes ago, before backspacing it all entirely and locking your phone again, gently tossing it off and towards your side in a hearty exhale of desperation, exasperation...

Missing him.

And of course you know, you've known that you're in love with Hongjoong. You're in tune enough with your feelings to know it, despite being entirely unwilling to admit it to him — not without something more concrete, not without him giving up and giving in just a little. You don't think it's a lot to ask of him, to put his hurt, and his worry, and whatever it is that clings to and harms him so deeply — to take a leap of faith and just say the words, the words that are so painfully obvious to the both of you.

That maybe he isn't necessarily in love with you, not yet — but he wants you, wants you all for himself. To be had and held by no one else. Is it too much to ask, to hear the words from his mouth without using them as a means to an end to make the both of you come?

A man so aware and enlightened, only willing to use his words when he knows he can take them back — not completely, but any deeper meaning behind them.

‘All talk, of course, it doesn't mean anything.’

Much like the first time.

And in spite of conversation number one not going according to plan, you find your chest empty at the loss of him next to you — wherever it may be that Hongjoong finds himself on this night, it's with your heart alongside, tightly in hand.

You only hope that he's thoughtful enough to be aware of it, to not make any rash decisions; for all intents and purposes perhaps��

For him to be better than you.

“So, what are you looking for, exactly?”

Stepping through the large, perfectly polished glass doors just behind the man that you've met with, you look around momentarily — luxury brands and department stores far from something that you're uncomfortable or unfamiliar with, it's not all that often that you find yourself shopping about in such places, given Hongjoong's interest in the more 'far out' of fashion trends, as it were — this, a place for people with money, and who want to look like they have money.

It reminds you of Wooyoung, mostly. Expensive, untouchable. The opposite of Hongjoong in every way.

“Not a suit but,” he slowly answers, head only slightly turning back and looking as if he's even more out of his depth than you are. “Something...nice.”

“Not giving me much to work with, here.”

Seonghwa stops in the middle of the fragrance department, you nearly bumping into him from behind at the abrupt halt — looking around, you watch him intently, as if awaiting his next command on where it is that the two of you should head off to.

Hair still the same, black and swept off to the side of his face, sides shaved and neat — you take a second to enjoy the view, beautifully effeminate features, perfect teeth, and when he opens his mouth, such a deceptively heavy, deep voice.

Enough to knock anyone off their game, even just a little bit.

But the truth was, that Park Seonghwa was kind of a fucking nerd.

Not in the typical way, perhaps like Yunho — ex-pro gamer, but more in the sense of being a little awkward in a way that one might not expect upon laying eyes on him. Easy to assume a cold, tough personality to the man, but not so much the case at all.

He was awkward. Sexy, but definitely awkward.

“Is just a button down shirt nice?” he finally asks, making eye contact with you again after scanning the expanse of the room.

“It really depends on where you're going, was there no dress code?”

“Business casual, I think it said.”

“Oh!” you chime, all of the day's problems solved with ease at the description. “That's easy then, yes, you can get away with a nice button down. See? When you give me information to work with...”

A few strides into the direction of the men’s section, the both of you fanning through different colors and brands of shirts, Seonghwa finally pipes up in a lull of quiet from the typical, dull small talk.

“So,” he says plainly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You're thankful for the way that he cannot see nor hear the way your heart drops at the question alone.

Swallowing hard, eyebrows furrowing just for a moment as if to collect your thoughts, you finally reply. “Um, yeah. I guess. It's kind of complicated, though.”

“What does that mean?”

And in most situations, you wouldn't want to open up about the situation. Still too new and raw and painful to the touch, but the lack of the ability to do so eating you up inside in such a way that the pain drawls on endlessly — Seonghwa probably isn't the right person for this discussion, but frankly, you're not really sure who would be.

You just know that right now you're dying inside, so it has to be somebody, and well...he's offering.

“I've been seeing this guy for the past bunch of months, we're actually best friends, or were— before all of this,” you begin, sighing between the statements and emotional exhaustion from it all evident. “He's obviously into me, just like I am into him, I'd love to just...be in a relationship with him but he can't...talk, say the words. Be vulnerable.”

“Real tough guy, huh?” Seonghwa quips as he pulls a navy blue shirt off of the rack to check the size and fit against himself.

“Not really, that's what really gets me,” you start again. “He's really not that sort of macho, out of touch with his feelings kind of stereotype dude that you'd expect, but I guess anyone can have their problems with intimacy.”

“You're sure he wants what you want?”

The question comes out of left field, especially from the man just across the rack from you — and despite not needing it, you do take a moment of pause to think the question over before giving the same answer you would have either way.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

Seonghwa sets the shirt back onto the metal tubing from where it came before leaning forward onto it with arms crossed and chin pressed against them to look at you.

“Then he kinda needs to shit or get off the pot, ya know? Tell him to grow up.”

“I don't think it's that easy. If it were that easy I think he would have by now, there's something else there holding him back.”

“Are you fuckin' other people still?”

The question gives you whiplash, the velocity at which it leaves Seonghwa's mouth and proverbially slaps you right across the face something you never could have expected — paired with the fact that yes, it was something you had considered...

But coming from someone with completely fresh insight on the situation—

Perhaps you hadn't been as safe and accommodating as you could have been, after all.

“I mean,” you stutter out, eyes darting away from his own and back down into the slew of button down shirts before you. “Yeah, we're not exclusive or anything, so...”

Who is it that you're trying to convince, anyways? That everything that you do is okay.

The idea that right and wrong can coexist simultaneously. That someone's right is someone else's wrong, or someone's right and wrong all at once.

Of course you are allowed to do that, and shoulder the consequences of your actions, you shall. Not a punishment, merely a result.

Choose wisely.

“Obviously,” Seonghwa says, pulling back to stand straight again. “But if he has feelings for you and you know that, and he knows that you know that, and yet he knows you're fuckin' other people still...I mean, I can only speak for myself I guess, but I would not be jumping to bare my soul to someone who's probably got a date to get her back blown out twenty minutes after, ya know?”

It's funny in delivery. The truth behind it making you wince all the same.

“You told him?” Seonghwa asks, shortly after amending the question. “That you have feelings for him? Want to be with him?”

You nod silently, carding through a rack of shirts that you've long since stopped paying attention to.

“Then I maintain my stance that he's gotta get a grip,” he says with a shrug, finally settling on an item and holding it up with confirmation. You smile gently at him.

“You threw yourself into the fire, he's gotta meet you there eventually.”

Stepping into the apartment and gently shutting the door behind you as you kick your shoes off, you hear the sound of Seonghwa casually tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter only a few feet away as he steps further ahead, bags set down behind the couch on the opposite end.

You stop and take it in for a moment — another new place, new sights, new smells, a new man.

And sure, Seonghwa wasn't new. Not in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't a random guy that you had just picked up that evening with every intention of drowning your worries in anything that he was willing to give you to help you forget, if even for a moment, but he wasn't...well...

He wasn't comfort. He wasn't home.

He wasn't Hongjoong.

Checking the screen of your phone again for notifications — notifications that you know have not arrived, for if they had, you would have felt them, you attempt to swallow down the knot in your throat. The feeling of being forgotten, of potentially being moved on from.

Did he even care anymore? Was it too little, too late, before you had even known it?

Vaguely, you can hear Seonghwa's deep voice ring out towards you, but the words fail to make their way to you. Not in any real, meaningful way — instead, past words spit like venom once again swim around and consume your memories, making their bed in your mind like a disease you may never find yourself rid of.

‘After all, you didn't know I was going to be there that night.’

“Hey,” you hear, Seonghwa finally breaking through the heavy thought clouding your mind. “What is going on up there?”

Lightly tapping the top of your head with his index finger, you lightly swat his hand away, awkwardly laughing and trying to shake off the way the memory makes you feel even now — the same way it felt then. As if no time had passed between at all.

“I'm fine.”

“Thinking about him?” Seonghwa chimes, teasingly mocking you like you're a girl with a crush.

It's not wrong, but hurts far more than he seems to be aware of, even in spite of the conversation earlier. You're unsurprised by this, as he never had come off as one quick on the emotional uptake of others.

A little self-centered, and a lot into himself. Med student, model — you figure it just sort of comes with the territory, perhaps, and truly — you had known him not to be the one to confide one's deepest, most vulnerable thoughts and feelings in, for those hands however skilled they may be, know not what to do with such items.

Opting to ignore the comment for as long as you can, instead eyes trailing along the medical books, papers, diagrams strewn about on the coffee table in front of the couch...only a few feet away from a few rather expensive looking garments carefully laid out across the top of a lounge chair — you find it charming, in some bizarre way — the juxtaposition of Seonghwa's lives carefully balanced on a thread via a man with no time to spare, and seemingly little knowledge about anything else.

You wonder if there's anything there, really, beyond medicine and beauty. Albeit, the path of medicine such a selfless act in and of itself, almost jarring in comparison to knowing the man; barely able to carry on a serious conversation, or offer a consoling word.

And hilariously, through all of the split second introspection, you come to the ultimate conclusion that you're not even all that sure you even like him that much.

“No,” you eventually answer, shuffling the thoughts from your head with finality. “Thinking about what we should eat.”

“What are you in the mood for?” he hurriedly responds, jumping up and into one of the stools next to the counter, phone in hand. “I'll order whatever.”

“Kind of want a pizza, actually.”

“Done.”

You find this to be the easiest conversation that you've ever had with the man, relief washing over you a bit and, for once, not feeling an undercurrent of battle with every word that is exchanged between the two of you, but you remember after all — you're there for a reason.

“By the way,” you say suddenly. “Need a tape measure, do you have one?”

“Ummmm, yeah, should be in my bedroom. The big white dresser? Not sure which drawer. You can go in there though, don't worry, won't find anything crazy.”

The words aren't all that comforting, you find, in spite of the fact that he's quite evidently trying to be. The promise of not finding whatever insanity the man may have hidden somewhere in the apartment something that you are thankful for, but as you step into his bedroom, the looming feeling of alarm washes over you just as quickly — that previously mentioned undercurrent of battle, now replaced with uncertainty. Not worry, so much, but with the crashing acknowledgement that perhaps you don't really know this man at all.

And you know that it's really none of your business. Not even a little bit, but he had you go in there, and knew what you would find—

—It seems only fair.

“Uh, Seonghwa?”

Long eyes looking up from his phone and straight towards you, dark hair dangling at one side of his face, it takes a long moment for the realization to hit him — so used to his version of normal, that you realize then and there, he had not actually thought about what it was he had been sending you off and into upon informing you where to find the tape measure.

That he obviously should have gotten off of his ass and retrieved himself.

“Oh, oh God,” he groans, eyes darting side to side and most importantly, far away from your own. His discomfort adds to your comfort instead, finding pleasure in the way that he is for once the one in the compromised situation between the two of you.

He was always awkward, but this was way better.

“Okay, ummm, I guess—“ he pauses, eyes screwing shut as if immediately trying to disappear himself from his own apartment, only opening them again upon accepting his failure in doing so and with lips forming a straight line, Seonghwa exhales heavily from his nostrils.

“—It's kinda...what it looks like.”

“The camera,” you plainly state, thumb over your shoulder and pointing back from where you had come from. “Want to tell me about that?”

Sighing, Seonghwa simply slumps forward with his head buried in crossed arms on the counter in front of him, words muffled. “No, but I guess I'm going to.”

“I mean, I won't say anything,” you comfort, shrugging and setting yourself down on the couch behind him. “I'm just already in here so if you're going to like, murder me for the dark web or something then I'd like to know ahead of time.”

You hear Seonghwa chuckle in response, probably thankful for the lighthearted banter in response to your findings. “Okay well, if that's what it looks like then it's not that.”

“What are you, a camboy or something?”

The chuckle in your voice as the words exit your mouth are evidence enough of the fact that you're still trying to make banter of the situation.

Seonghwa's silence in reaction, however, tells you that you're right on the money with your guess.

“Oh my God,” you chime out, a bit louder than you had anticipated. “You are.”

“Can you keep your voice down,” he hurriedly replies, pulling himself up and around to face you with the utmost urgency across his features. “These walls are paper thin, God.”

“Sorry, just—“ you pause, still taken aback by the discovery. “I was joking, I didn't think you really were. Not that there's anything wrong with that.”

With a heavy inhale, and equally heavy exhale, Seonghwa groans in anticipation of having to explain himself even further.

“It's good money, and it's fun,” he explains, standing up and heading over towards you on the couch so that the two of you can finish up the reason that you had gone over there to begin with. “The modeling is good but sometimes I don't take jobs because the travel just takes up so much time, it's hard to juggle with being a med student, so camming sort of supplements my income when I don't take jobs.”

Watching Seonghwa's face as he explains — cheeks and ears flushed red and the complete inability to make eye contact with you as he talks about it, laughing through it awkwardly even though nothing humorous is being said — you hate to admit the way that you find it charming, that perhaps in all of the ways that he is unattractive to you, there's still this. Goofy, uncomfortable, incredibly regular, like a little kid entirely too big physically and especially in life to handle all of the things being thrown his way.

An incredible juggling act, perhaps shocking that he didn't turn out worse.

So awkward, for a guy that jerks off on camera for who knows how many strangers.

“I think it's kind of cool.”

And for the first time since the conversation topic had been breached, Seonghwa's eyes meet your own, albeit briefly. A silent thankfulness for your understanding, for your willingness to accept him.

“You want to get into it? I'll fuck you on camera, we'll make a killing.”

Ah, right, there he is. Spoken like a truly insufferable prick.

“You wish, moron,” you say, flat in tone and forcing him to spin so that he faces away from you. “Get down on your knees so I can measure you out and get this fit right, and if you don't behave I'll have you out there looking ridiculous on purpose.”

Tape measure in hand, you extend the length enough to cross the width of the man's shoulders, making note of the number and dialing it in on your phone laid just next to you on the couch cushion, Seonghwa's head turns just slightly as if in attempt to look back at you, despite not having the range of motion to do so to any reasonable amount.

“Are my shoulders wide?”

You roll your eyes.

“They're a perfectly normal width, Hwa.”

“Wider than What's-his-face's?”

There's that burn in your chest again, and you can't tell if Seonghwa just doesn't get it or doesn't care, at this point.

Swallowing hard at the question, hoping and praying that your voice doesn't break as you force out a light response to an absolutely painful topic, you manage well enough.

“Yes, he's not a model.”

“He's short? Small?”

At this point, you're glad that Seonghwa can't see you — the way that you chew on the inside of your cheek or lip at the mere mention of Hongjoong, and now especially at this bizarrely competitive way that Seonghwa seems to be...having a go at him, despite not even knowing him, it's unappealing, unattractive, and downright right fucking annoying.

“Yes, he's small,” you answer, this time with far less effort to conceal your irritation at the line of questioning. “What does it matter to you, anyways?”

Shrugging suddenly as you continue on with what you had gone there to do to begin with, he sighs. “Just trying to lighten the mood, surely this guy isn't all that, and especially not if he can't even tell a girl he likes her.”

You kind of wish you could disagree.

Appreciating Seonghwa's mismanaged attempt at making you feel better in some way, you allow yourself to let the anger fall to the wayside a bit. The man just before you clearly only good at so many things — matters of other people's hearts, maybe not so much.

Which you sort of knew already.

Silence finally taking the room as you move to measure the length of his right arm, you're delighted by it. The fact that no words are currently exiting his beautiful mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps beautiful men are far more often better off not using their words.

Wooyoung sort of springs to mind.

Paradise crashes down pretty quickly, though.

“He got a small dick?”

“Seonghwa.”

Swatting the back of his head gently, the man chuckles at your response. “What!? I find it admirable that you love him despite his flaws if that's the case.”

“You have got to shut up before I walk out of here.”

“Okay, okay, I was just jokin’—“

It's an almost pleasant bit in the evening, interrupted by the sound of a notification coming through on your phone, and as the screen illuminates, you only have to glance at it for a second to recognize the length of text — the name — that comes through on the screen.

You take pause, not only due to the unexpected nature of it, but given your current circumstances and just — everything. The feelings all rushing back to your chest, throat tightening in an instant, heart feeling as though it could beat straight through your rib cage at any given moment, you can only assume that Seonghwa doesn't hear the sound, or thinks nothing of it at first, before taking notice of the way that you freeze behind him, arms stuck in statuesque figure as you stare down at the device next to you with thoughts racing a mile a minute.

“What?” he finally questions, moving to turn more and take in the scene behind him, first looking to you, but following your eyes down to the object as the screen dulls again only seconds later. “Oh, is it him?”

You nod, slowly allowing your arms down and swallowing down a dry throat.

“Just ignore him, come on, we're having fun,” the man with you insists, grabbing you playfully by the arms and flailing them about for you. “He can wait a few hours more, don't let him ruin your night.”

Snapping back to reality, you blink, then turning your attention to Seonghwa — eyes bright and eyebrows down turned as if pleading for you not to ruin his good time, you take control of your arms once again as you reach towards your phone.

“I'm just...surprised, he's texting me—“ you say, inhaling deeply before unlocking the screen. “I can't ignore him.”

“You can, come on, we're having a good night!”

>Hongjoong: hey. i'm sorry. we should talk. I want to talk. about the conversation we had a few days ago. when you have time, obviously.

The message hits you in the chest like a freight train, for so many reasons, but the pointed willingness of the apology quite possibly being the most gutting of all.

Hongjoong, a man never above an apology, so you're unsure why it is that this one in particular hits you in such a special way — that he leads with it, that it feels so strong, so meaningful, so much.

And the acknowledgment of the failed conversation, of course.

Looking up from your phone, you meet the sad, puppy dog eyes of Seonghwa — pouty and evidently beyond bummed at the inevitability of the way the night will end — a child starved of play dates, his one moment cut short just like that.

You flash back to the night that you met Seonghwa, and how sexy you thought he was. The reason that you exchanged numbers with him to begin with. Truthfully? A quick fuck was ideally in the cards.

How unfortunate now that you've gotten to know him.

“Nah, I don't think so!”

Before the words really register to you, Seonghwa has your phone swiped from your hands, pulling it from your reach and back behind him — holding it far and away from your own as you attempt to swiftly grab it back from him but with no avail. Repeatedly calling his name to give it back, the man only laughs as you try to best his long limbs without closing too much of the space between the two of you — something that you would like to avoid.

And that he would not.

Pulling forward and nearly off of the couch entirely with Seonghwa leaned back and away, you attempt to reach behind him for your device, still far out of reach, but it's when the man quickly leans back in again without your ready — lips firm against your own and free hand cupping the side of your face to pull your further into it that you find it so easy to melt into the feeling without so much as a second thought; the warmth, the inviting plush of his mouth with a kiss not rushed, or needy, but passionate and soft.

You meet his motions briefly, before pulling back and away from him entirely.

Hand still gently pressed into the side of your head, fingers lightly curling into the hair that resides there, you take in the way that Seonghwa's features soften so much just in that moment — as if a man now knelt before you that you'd never met before. A new man.

He delicately pulls your face back towards him, and you hate the way you allow him to.

Only centimeters from your lips, Seonghwa whispers into you, voice heavy and laden with obvious desire that, if laid dormant all of this time, you had not noticed it until only now.

“If you're really gonna give the fun up for this guy,” he begins, pressing his lips to your own again and so gently that you almost couldn't even feel it. “Then what's wrong with one last one for the road, huh?”

Another kiss.

You're melting into it far too quickly, so easy for Seonghwa to lull you into this sort of comfort that only minutes prior you never would have thought him capable of — a new side of himself, so sensual and inviting and deeply, you wished you weren't curious about what else there was that he had to offer you.

“—He'll never have to find out.”

Okay, fuck it.

Scooting backwards on the couch a bit further, parting your legs to allow room for him in between them, Seonghwa leans into you even more, mouth heavier against your own, with more intent now. Your eyes dart down, in view of the hand clasping your phone still — the buzz of another notification ringing through your ears, knowing precisely who it is that's attempting to contact you — it takes everything in you to muster up the courage to ignore it, cast it aside.

Cast Hongjoong aside.

Seonghwa stands, carding his fingers through long, black hair as he does so before reaching for his belt buckle and beginning to undo it right in front of your face — your eyes fixated on the obvious tenting in the front of his pants at the promise of a fuck that neither of you should particularly be indulging in, but especially not you.

You can. You're allowed.

“Have you thought about this before?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you and desperately needing to cut through the silence of only your thoughts.

Seonghwa chuckles, still looking down upon your features as he pulls the leather apart, fingers then moving to the button — it's happening a little faster than you needed right now, but also, perhaps that's exactly what you need.

“Of course, every guy thinks about fucking every attractive, female friend they have — at least a little bit.”

An unfortunate byproduct — everything reminds you of him.

Pressing his jeans down slightly and pulling himself from the black fabric of his briefs, he strokes himself slowly, gently, for your viewing pleasure — only inches from your face, eyes still engrossed and watching you as you watch him.

You wonder if this is how he does it for however many viewers he brings in.

“Don't think about him,” he says, bringing the hand up that still clasps your phone and turning the screen towards your face. “Unlock it, just for a little fun.”

“Are you crazy?” you bite back, leaning away from him altogether, but the man before you still lazily pumping himself only snorts a bit and shrugs before answering you back.

“It's your phone, think of it as a bachelorette gift from me.”

The confidence in his tone, while irritating, is intriguing — you wonder briefly who and what he's done to make himself believe that video recollection of you sucking him off could be something that you'd watch back later, holed up in the bathroom late at night with nothing or no one better to do and only a fond memory of something that you had no business partaking in to begin with.

Though, come to think of it; when you put it like that, the appeal was certainly beginning to present itself.

You snatch the phone from him and plug in your pass code, handing it back to him just as quickly — as if the faster it's done the less either of you will have to acknowledge the acceptance, but the grin on Seonghwa's face says everything as he evidently pulls up the camera app and angles your phones lens down and towards your face.

“Lemmie see you work, baby.”

You're certainly not proud of the way the sentence is felt straight between your legs — not entirely sure if it's the words themselves, the man, the camera, or the deviousness of the act as a whole — taking him into your dominant hand and replacing his as he pulls away and instead runs fingertips through the hair at the top of your head, you carry on with the work that he had started on himself. Heavy and warm, long, thick enough but not anything that would take any exceptional prep to work up to, you quickly (and unfortunately) have to settle on the fact that the guilty fuck is doing more for you now, in this moment, than you'd ever really like to admit to yourself.

Pulling yourself forward on the couch more to situate yourself best for taking him, you angle your head down as to run your tongue against the tip of his cock — wet, showy circles across it and looking up to see the effect on him — bottom corner of his lip pulled between his teeth and slightly hooded, brown eyes gazing down upon you.

And the camera, of course. You're making a show of it.

Moving upwards again, you take Seonghwa fuller into your mouth, properly for sucking him off — too big to take the entirety of but you're thankful that he doesn't seem stuck on the necessity of it, hands in your hair and on your head for the sake of being there rather than with intent to guide or pull you onto him, he allows you the ability to take him at your own pace and depth, languidly bobbing along his cock with wet, swollen lips as airy, devilishly sexy groans topple from the beautifully plump ones that had just been kissing you only moments before.

Kisses testing the waters: ‘How horrible are you, really?’

Even with cock in mouth, or especially with cock in mouth, you can't help but have the thoughts spring to mind — how wrong it is, how fucked up it is.

How you're only doing this with promise that Hongjoong will never know, because if he were to, you wouldn't.

But the knowledge of it devastating him not enough to stop you from pulling the trigger on the act, either.

Is this love?

“Feel so good, look so pretty like this,” Seonghwa says, the words nearly startling you from your thoughts despite the act still taking place. “Like a big dick? Hm? Mouth looks so small around me.”

You know he's playing it up for the camera, likely because it's what he's used to doing — talking the viewer through to their finish — he's assuming that someday you will, in all actuality, make yourself come to this little snippet in time at some point in the future.

Depending on how it turns out, you can't really promise that you won't, either.

Picking up your speed along him, hand following suit to make up for the amount of him that you can't fit into your mouth, Seonghwa groans at the extra friction, head falling back briefly to take in the feeling of you swallowing him whole, as best you can.

“God.” And it's nearly a whisper, eyes falling back down to yours once again. “Wanna come all over that pretty face of yours.”

Arousal pooling between your legs much quicker than you'd have ever hoped, the promise of him emptying on your face — while enticing — not exactly the finish you were looking for, but just as you pull off of him slowly to voice the concern, Seonghwa locks your phone screen with an audible click and tosses the device to a plush chair sitting adjacent to the two of you.

“Kinda short but should do the trick if you're hard up for time, here, stand up.”

Somewhat confused but following the man's lead all the same, Seonghwa pulls you up and off the couch before seating himself down where you had just been, cock still hard and all present — you finally come to realize that it was all for show, that he had no intention of finishing then and there.

What a magnificent actor, you think to yourself.

“Take your pants off,” he then instructs, sitting with his back against the couch and hand around himself as he resumes stroking himself at the visual, you wasting no time shimmying out of your clothing for him to watch — lips slightly parted and eyes so strong and intensely situated on your body and all of its movements. Once down to your panties, you look at him again, unsure if meant to strip in totality.

“Should I...?”

“Up to you,” he says, suddenly grabbing towards you and pulling your hips forward and against his face as fingers quickly make their way between your legs and into the sides of the fabric there — but pausing to look up at you again, the dastardly grin is really what sends home the words themselves, thereafter.

“Depends how dirty of a fuck you want it to be, the more clothes the better then.”

And you don't really have time to answer the question, had there ever even been one, before his lips press hard against your pussy and tongue making quick work of the quest for your clit — nearly toppling forward, hands falling to his shoulders for leverage as your knees just about give out from the sudden contact, lewd, slurping and sucking sounds resonating through the apartment as Seonghwa wastes no time tasting you — and just as quickly, the feeling of a single finger slowly pressing into you as you stand before him.

“God, fuck, Seonghwa—“

He hums in acknowledgment of the name, two, three slow pumps of the digit, you feel him add a second. Delicate hands, but by no means dainty — fingers with thickness to them and the feeling of fullness is immediate as he continues the suction on your clit with earnest.

Your own fingers digging into his shirt and the flesh beneath it, head falling back and feeling almost dizzy at the onslaught of sensations, clenching your eyes shut, he pulls his head back from you to look at your features. “Good?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, heavy and barely audible at all. Seonghwa chuckles at the scene before him.

“C'mere.”

And you know he's being annoying when he does it, the words paired with the curl of his fingers deep inside you as he ushers you forward, pressing hard against your g-spot as he does and it's everything you have, all of the strength in your legs to not completely fall forward and against him — but slowly pulling his fingers from you, he instead brings his hands to your waist, steadying you to ease you down and into his lap. Another kiss, this time much heavier and needy and messy from both sides — panties slick and wet and pulled apart messily, allowing you to feel the faint press of his bare shaft against you as the two of you pant and bite at each other's mouths, you want him, and you want him bad.

The coming to a head of so many different thoughts and feelings all at once: the longing, the missing, the sadness, the desire. The allure of being in places and arms where you shouldn't dare be, all the while wishing you were in the ones that you should.

It was good, he made me come, I prefer you.

I prefer you.

You want Seonghwa to fuck you raw.

And you know that the strongest factor in favor of it is the fact that it would be so easy. That the both of you are already right there, so simple, and you shouldn't, and all the while knowing it's sort of why you want to.

Maybe somehow you can undo all of the work that Hongjoong's done if only you allow someone else to do it all over again.

“Seonghwa,” you whisper against his mouth, hips pressing forward and against him, swallowing up the hiss that escapes his lips as a result of it and loving every second of it.

“Condom.”

Nodding, the man reaches down and into his pants’ pocket — still conveniently wrapped around his thighs and pulls for his wallet, metallic package quickly found and ripping it open with his teeth, he nods for you to pull back a little off of him to grant him room to roll it on — watching intently as he does. Settling back comfortably, large hands finding their way up and around your waist again to lift you gently, to hover over him before your descent down — the two of you make eye contact only briefly as one of his hands edges down and between your legs to pull the side of your panties away just as before.

‘Depends how dirty of a fuck you want it to be.’

You quickly dart your eyes away from him, opting to close them instead as you sink down along his length — faster than you might normally and barely allowing yourself any time to adjust, you wince at the stretch, the length, the pull of him against your insides — not completely ready to take him yet.

But ready to get it over with, get out of there, and carry on like this never happened.

Rocking your hips against him, you start out at a relatively quick pace, one hand on his shoulder and the other between your legs to rub you into your orgasm as fast as possible, not even wanting to leave it up to him to get you there — screwing your eyes shut tighter, allowing yourself to feel the way he pulls you down to take his cock; a little hard, a little rough — but it's kind of what you want, what you need, given the circumstances.

In some ways, Seonghwa may as well not be there at all.

“H—harder—“ you whisper, desperately trying to get the friction you need from him out of the position but being starkly limited in availability, you only hear Seonghwa laugh at first, in response to your demand, before stopping the both of you altogether and nearly pushing you off of him.

Your first thought, is that he's pissed. You're not sure why, or what happened, and before being able to get the question out of your mouth, you find yourself face first into the couch cushion and lengthwise on the couch, with Seonghwa already pressing back into you from behind.

Moaning out at the new, different kind of intrusion, Seonghwa leans forward and over your back, hand nestled in your hair before tightening only enough to get your attention.

You said 'harder,' not 'rougher,' — 'rougher' was the next command on the agenda, though.

With a hard, sudden snap of his hips into you, you whine out loudly in response. Then another, and another following — crying out at the feeling, just teetering on the edge of being too much, too painful, you finally hear the words from behind you through gritted teeth.

“I'm fine with being your guilty little fuck,” he says, still snapping his hips harshly between every few words. “Use me to forget him? I can do that.”

Hand still pressed against your head, Seonghwa adjusts his positioning behind you just enough that it gives him better, easier access to continue his relentless drives into you — hard and fast — your hand once again buried between your legs and now orgasm much faster in its approach, you whine out with every full thrust of himself, nearly pulling all of the way from you before plunging back in.

“Feel good? You like that?” he asks, breath heavy and husky and sounding almost bitter in the exchange.

It almost turns you on more, knowing that he's angry with you for this, hates you for it.

“Yes.”

“Yeah? My cock feel good to you, baby?”

So vulgar and with a tone so hateful, you know he's trying to make a point. The reminder that it's him and not Hongjoong. Making you pay attention to it. Not letting you disassociate from the fact. Forcing you to be present and in the moment no matter how much you don't want to be — not entirely, at least.

“Say it,” he adds with a particularly harsh thrust, and you give in right away. “Yes, yes, fuck, Seonghwa—“

“That's right, good girl. Close? Wanna come around my cock for me?”

A moan first ripping through your lips, fingers desperately attempting to grip into unrelenting cushions, you feel Seonghwa's own curl harder into the skin of your hips with every second that you don't answer him.

“Yes, I do, fuck, please I'm close—“

Continuing into you, he quiets long enough to focus on getting you there; fucking into you hard and fast and all of the way through it as you cry out at the way your orgasm finally takes you, you barely even notice as Seonghwa suddenly exits from you, pulling the condom free of himself and stroking himself through his own orgasm — translucent white strings of his cum painting your already stained panties and backside.

A fitting end — filthy and used and an amalgamation of things that never quite should have taken place to begin with.

Slowly, tiredly flipping back over to face him, Seonghwa avoids eye contact at first — the easy excuse of needing to toss the condom away in a rush able to pull him from the situation long enough to steady himself and his feelings before coming back — pants now pulled back up and into place before sitting down on the couch next to you again, eyes away from you as you awkwardly reach for the garments you had left on the floor onto ten or so minutes prior to now.

And then, your phone.

Buzzing lightly against the plush of the chair, you can't help but allow your attention to draw to Seonghwa in light of it all — but the man turns his head from you gently, instead opting to reach for the device as the one closest to it and handing it to you without ever making eye contact.

Talk about guilty fuck.

And of course it's Hongjoong. It's always Hongjoong. The vibrancy of the name on the screen in juxtaposition to the scenario that you just took part in and the way Seonghwa isn't helping in making it feel okay, feels like a knife to the chest.

Maybe, just maybe, it's not okay. Maybe it hasn't been for a while.

“I need to get—“ you quietly clamor out, your existence feeling like a disturbance in the man's home, but unable to leave until you wash the remainder of him off of you. Seonghwa turns his head to you briefly, finally realizing the situation and quickly — awkwardly, pointing you into the direction of his bathroom.

And it's unfortunate the ways that hurt people sometimes expel that pain. For Hongjoong, it's a spitfire tongue and thoughtless words — precisely as he thinks and feels in the moment but with every intention to hurt the recipient just as much as he, himself hurts.

For Yunho, it's repetition — the starry-eyed hope that if given the ability to go back in time, do the same thing over again, maybe do something differently, that he can forge a different outcome of the same situation.

For you, it's actions — thoughtless and selfish and entirely self-absorbed. Desperate for the acknowledgment that the choices one makes along the way are good and right, objectively so, even if at the expense of the ones we love around us.

And for Seonghwa, it's revenge.

Coming back from the bathroom, as best cleaned up as you can manage, you find Seonghwa standing in the kitchen — arms crossed with a glass of unknown liquid in hand as his eyes coldly fall over your figure. A far cry from the man you had arrived there with, but knowing all the same when you had worn out your welcome — you certainly don't feel bad about being kicked out after the sex, truthfully, you couldn't get out of there faster if you had tried to.

“I'm gonna get out of he—“

The sound of your phone vibrating stealing your attention away, but not because of a message notification.

Rather, a phone call.

Phone on the glass coffee table, face up, and not where you had left it when you went off to the bathroom — glancing down at the phone call as the tail end of it comes through, only to find it add itself to a slew of three other missed call notifications.

And all from Hongjoong.

You slowly look back up and towards Seonghwa, still silently perched in the kitchen — watching you, but with nothing to say. Slowly, he brings his hand from the side of his arm to take a sip of the beverage...

But not before ever so gently tipping it towards you.

Cheers, indeed. And 'fuck you, too.'

Panic setting in immediately, before you even have a chance to call Hongjoong back, another call rings through, and gathering your things, shuffling towards the door with little else on your mind beyond getting the fuck out of that apartment and away from that man, you pick up the call finally.

“Hongjoong, I— hold on, just—“

You haven't even heard a word from him yet, pulling the phone back down from your face to swipe through your apps at lightning quick speed, desperate to locate your texting app but not all that ready to lay eyes on precisely what it is that you expect to find.

And you do, of course.

The last thing in your messaging conversation with Hongjoong, the video Seonghwa took of you with him less than an hour earlier.

Not even bothering to acknowledge Seonghwa further as you leave the apartment, barreling down the staircase as quickly as possible with your bag slung over your shoulder, you're finally able to situate yourself enough to bring the phone back to your face.

Inhaling deeply, pausing from exhaustion and pressing your back against one of the concrete walls, you huff out his name. “Hongjoong—“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

But the tone on the other line isn't angry, not in the way that you had anticipated. It's not a man furious, violent, aggressive in any sense of the imagination — but rather, a tone dripping with desperation, with tragedy, with pain. This question posed, to avoid the other, obvious question that lied bare and rubbed raw behind it: Why would you do this to me? Why would you hurt me like this?

“Look, I didn't send—“ you pause the line of thought, realizing that the details of who or why it was sent to him mean little, and truly the only thing that matters is why were you with him.

And why does Hongjoong mean that little to you.

“Hongjoong, I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I fucked up—“

“I've been texting you all night, is that why I couldn't get a hold of you?”

“Look, please, we should talk—“

“We should talk? I've been trying to get a hold of you all night to talk!”

“I know,” voice breaking with the words, the burning creeping up quickly and pulling yourself together again enough to continue down the stairs and out of the building and in a ride share towards Hongjoong's place, you continue to plead with him. “Please, Joong, I'm coming over. Please, let's talk about this.”

‘About this.’ The concept of ‘this.’

The unmatched, unswallowable feeling of impending nothingness. The loss of something — someone so great.

Everyone has a breaking point.

When silence greets you on the other line for far too long as your car carries you towards his home, a home that the two of you not too long ago once shared, you can almost hear the way that Hongjoong has to swallow down his feelings, the gut-wrenching twist of the dagger that you so ceremoniously planted directly into his chest.

“I don't know why you're tormenting me,” he whispers through broken voice, otherwise calm words falling onto your ears like death itself.

“So fucking jealous when I slept with your friend, before we even started getting involved—“

“I know, Hongjoong, I know please—“

His voice turning whiny, more broken and pointed. “—It was fucked up then, and it's so fucked up now.”

Throat burning, ears on fire, you know it's on the tip of his tongue if he can muster up the courage to do it, to say the words, to do the deed himself.

I don't love you anymore, goodbye.

But he doesn't, and in an effort to cut him off before he can, you make the quick decision that it's enough with the bullshit, and enough with the games. Emotions have been worn and dragged through the mud enough up until this point for the both of you — and for no reason at all. You know what you want, and you've always known what you wanted.

Him.

“You can come to the apartment to get your shit but I won't be there—“

“Hongjoong—“

He silences, you await the inquiry that apparently won't ever come, and it gives you pause again. Veins running ice cold and breath thin, you figure now more than ever before;

It's now or never.

“I love you.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

#seonghwa smut #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

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redzie02 · 1 year

Text

Solace m.m

hehe a self indulgent piece because i can,. sorry in advance

Summary(1316 words): You have a depressive episode and Matt comforts you

Warnings: depression, mentions of SH and su*c*de, angst, hurt/comfort

The door to your apartment had been deadbolted and all of the windows were locked. A sliver of light had made its way through the blinds, barely illuminating the darkness that permeated your apartment. It irked you. But you didn’t possess the energy to stand up and shut them.

You shut off your phone earlier when you saw the amount of missed calls and messages from your friends and boyfriend. The notifications on the screen yelled at you and pointed a condemning finger in your face. You hadn’t shown up to work the last three days and lied to your friends- and Matt- when they wanted to know what you were up to, telling them you were busy. You weren’t busy, you just wanted to be alone. You needed to be alone. Why couldn’t they understand that?

Avoiding Matt was the real challenge. You knew he’d listen to your heartbeat while you spilled your lies in front of him. Thankfully, his days were taken up by court cases and patrolling, making it easier to feed him your fabrications over the phone. You felt like a fraud lying to everyone around you, but you knew they were better off.

You were void of energy, the intrusive thoughts spending every second they could ripping you apart and leaving only bits and pieces for you to someday stitch back together. Being awake was excruciatingly unbearable. Taking warm baths, eating three meals a day, journaling, taking deep breaths-things that were supposed to help- hadn’t seemed to aid your progressively worsening mood.

The last seven hours were spent curled up at the end of your bed without a blanket- you couldn’t be bothered. You kept your eyes closed, trying to catch sleep, but it didn’t want you. The dreams you turned to for solace had abandoned you, leaving you with the bleak and dismal emptiness you’d been trying to escape.

Please, just five minutes. I’m tired. You begged your mind for the thousandth time. Please.

The rapid rapping at the entrance of your apartment interrupted your pleads. You pried your eyes open. Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! “Y/n!” Your boyfriend, Matt, yelled. His knocks reverberated around the walls of your apartment. “Y/n, I know you’re there. Please open the door.” He waited for a response. You stayed in place. Silence was all he got. Matt squeezed his eyes shut and planted his forehead on your front door. “Please, my love…” You wanted to move. You wanted to open the door and pretend everything was okay. But you couldn’t.

All you could do was shut your eyes again and wait for him to leave. You knew he would,-everyone does eventually- but that didn’t stop your heart from shattering when the silence had filled your apartment again. Your throat ached and your eyes burned, but you didn't allow the tears to fall. I deserve it. You thought bitterly. This is what I get for putting him through this. He shouldn’t have to deal with this…with me.

You laid still for five quiescent minutes before you heard it. The sound of his rushed footsteps in your living room, growing louder as they got closer to you. You looked up, embarrassed that he had to walk past the mess that had collected in your apartment. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, half-eaten bowls of food on the coffee table, unwashed clothes on your bedroom floor, the rotting flowers on your nightstand Matt had given you a few weeks ago, just a mere five feet away.

You watched Matt’s black shoes as they approached the end of your bed. They were scuffed, but still had a bit of shine to them. “Y/n?” He kneeled, placing a hand on your cheek, caressing it. “I-I thought you were hurt…Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you- we all have. I- talk to me, love.”

“I…don’t know…” You croaked.

“Did you-” Matt cleared his throat. “Did you hurt yourself?” You shook your head under his palm, taking a deep breath. His right hand took the hand that rested near your face and interlocked his fingers with yours. “Were you planning to?” Your heart jumped at the question. You shakily exhaled and rolled over so you were now facing the ceiling. You didn’t want to answer his question. Was it better to lie or to tell the truth? “Why didn’t you tell me? I can help- Foggy and Karen can help. You don’t have to deal with this alone, you know that right?”

Matt spoke gently, as if he were afraid speaking any louder would break you. Your bottom lip trembled. You held your breath and counted to ten before releasing the air from your lungs. Matt noticed your attempt at avoiding feeling your emotions and kissed the back of your hand. His lips lingered for a moment. “It’s okay to cry, y/n.” He got up and climbed onto the bed with you promptly after kicking off his shoes.

“I-I don’t want to, Matt. It hurts too much.” Matt’s heart ached at your words. He held you tight in his arms and kissed your forehead, your temple, your nose, any space on your face his lips considered deserted. He’d never seen you like this before. You’d been together for years and for the most part you were usually the one putting him back together- physically and emotionally.

“You don’t have to hold it in anymore. It hurts to see you torture youself.” The first tear slipped. Then another. And another. You sobbed for what felt like a lifetime, gripping onto Matt’s button up, completely soaking it. The pain you’d been keeping in had finally been released.

—----

You sat in between Matt’s legs, your back against his chest. His chin tucked in the space between your shoulder and neck. Matt ran a comforting hand down your arms and up to your shoulders. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You cleared your throat before speaking. “Two weeks, I think? It was tolerable at first…but then it got really bad a few days ago. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this, I actually thought I was better..” He kissed your neck as you played with his fingers. “I forgot how bad I used to get…” Your voice gradually dwindled down to a speck. You felt his breath tickle your skin as he spoke.

“Progress isn't a straight line, my love. There wouldn't be ups without downs. You have to give it time, the same way you gave me time two years ago.” You turned to look at him, knowing he was referring to the Midland Circle building collapsing on him. Those months had been detrimental to your relationship. You dealt with the grief of Matt’s unofficial death before finding out he had been recovering at St. Agnes Church in that time. Then you had to deal with a self-destructive and borderline suicidal boyfriend-not that he wasn’t already. It took almost a year for Matt to fully feel like himself again. “I know you feel like you’re undeserving of it, but you’re not. You deserve more than you know and if I have to pluck every star out of the sky to prove it to you, I will.”

“I- What did I do to deserve you?” You breathed out. You leaned in and tenderly placed your lips on his. He pulled you in closer, the taste of your salty tears being replaced by his sweet warmth. You relished in his love. You slowly pulled away and whispered. “I thank the universe everyday for you, Matthew.”

“I love you.” Another kiss. And maybe another. “Is it okay if I call Karen and Foggy to help clean the apartment up?” You nodded. Another kiss. “Do you want to stay at mine tonight?”

“Can I stay tomorrow too?”

“You can stay as long as you want, my love.”

#matthew murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #daredevil #daredevil x y/n #foggy nelson #karen page #angst #hurt/comfort

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bultaoreunheyyy · 3 months

Text

Part 2

the sickfic without a title

part 1 | part 2 - word count: 5,270

Taehyung remembers the day Namjoon showed them the blueprints for the lakehouse like it was yesterday.

“I’ve technically been working on this blueprint since I was a kid,” Namjoon had told them, showing them what they had at the time thought only to be a theoretical house. “When I was in grade school, I sketched my first house with seven rooms because I thought it would be nice to live with a lot of people I love.”

Even back then, when they were all much younger and barely out of university, they all knew that their connection was something special. Special enough that they wanted to live together even if it was crammed together in a two-bedroom apartment in the city or in a seven-bedroom house by the lake that Namjoon designed for an anniversary present. Now, sitting on the porch swing on the large porch Namjoon had designed for them, Taehyung is just as enamored with the house, and with Namjoon, as he had been that day.

“The breeze is picking up,” he says, threading his fingers through Namjoon’s hair. “We should go inside soon.”

Namjoon nods against Taehyung’s thigh. He’s stretched out sideways on the swing, long legs hanging part way off the end, his head resting in Taehyung’s lap. The moonlight is bright enough that they don’t need the porch lights on. The light breeze ruffles both of their hair and Taehyung pulls the blanket that’s covering Namjoon higher over his shoulders before pulling the blanket that’s wrapped around himself a little tighter in the front.

“Yeah.” Namjoon sighs. He yawns loudly. “We should.”

“What are you two doing out here? It’s late,” Yoongi’s voice comes from the doorway, silky soft and low. He slips out onto the porch, making his way over to the wicker chair next to Taehyung, curling up with his feet pulled to his chest.

“Can’t sleep either?” Taehyung asks him, tugging the blanket off his shoulders and passing it over to Yoongi.

Yoongi pulls the blanket into his lap with a grateful nod. “It makes no sense. I feel fucking exhausted, but I’m still not able to sleep.”

The three of them sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the gentle sounds of the nighttime.

The faint creak of the front door opening and closing again draws their attention, and soon Seokjin is standing in front of them, hands on his hips.

“You’re going to mess up your sleep schedules if you keep staying up so late,” he says. “There’s probably, like, only two hours until the sun rises.”

“You’re awake too,” Yoongi retorts, one eyebrow raised. “Come sit with us for a while. We’re on vacation, don’t forget.”

“Well I’m heading to bed soon, and we should all be trying to sleep,” Seokjin replies, but he joins them anyway, plopping himself down into Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi wraps his arms around Seokjin’s waist and pulls him close, presses a kiss to his temple, content and cozy. Seokjin melts into his embrace with a resigned sigh.

Hoseok and Jimin find them half an hour later, peeking out the front window at them before making their way outside.

“I’m so sad that Jungkook isn’t feeling well,” Namjoon says around another yawn. “He never gets sick and he’s so sad about it. It’s breaking my heart.”

“I know,” Taehyung agrees. “Poor thing.”

“How is everyone else feeling, by the way?” Seokjin asks. “No one else feels sick?”

They all shake their heads in tandem.

“Good. I hope no one else catches it. At first I thought it might just be food poisoning, but it’s definitely some kind of bug. Probably contagious.”

“That ship has already sailed, I think,” Yoongi says. “Not much to do to prevent it at this point.”

“How’s Kookie doing now?” Namjoon asks, turning to Hoseok and Jimin.

“He’s okay for now,” Hoseok replies. “Jimin and I were just lying down with him. He was mostly just dozing for a bit here and there, but there are too many things making him uncomfortable. We finally got him to fall asleep and he was snoring when we left the room, but I’m not sure how long he’ll be out for.”

Jimin sniffles, his nose running from the chilly air. “I’ll go check on him again.”

Ten minutes later, Jimin returns with Jungkook by his side, arm wrapped around his waist to help him walk out onto the porch. Namjoon sits up and they tuck Jungkook between him and Taehyung on the swing.

“Look who I found shuffling down the hallway,” Jimin teases, lightly pinching Jungkook’s cheek. “He was practically sleepwalking.”

Jungkook yawns and snuggles against Taehyung’s side. He’s shaking visibly even as they wrap all the blankets they have with them around his body. He remains quiet as they fuss over him, Namjoon arranging and rearranging the blankets while Jimin pets his hair and places a hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature.

“Wanted to be with us, baby?” Taehyung asks, eyebrows furrowing when Jimin’s hand lingers on Jungkook’s forehead, a frown forming on his face. He nudges Jimin’s hand aside and feels for himself. Jungkook leans into the touch and Taehyung finds himself frowning too at the heat he feels. “You should be resting.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook croaks, suddenly teary-eyed. “I don’t mean to worry you. I feel like I’m ruining our whole summer.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic,” Yoongi jokes, but then his expression softens. “But don’t you dare apologize for being sick. We’re still here spending time together, aren’t we? You’re not ruining anything.”

Namjoon nods in agreement. “You know we don’t mind taking care of you.”

“We’re gonna worry no matter what. Just ignore us and focus on feeling better, ‘kay?” Hoseok tells him.

Jungkook turns his face into Taehyung’s shoulder with a shuddering sigh, quiet for a long time. Ten minutes pass by, and then another ten minutes, during which none of them really speak, content to just sit together. When Jungkook finally turns back, his gaze lands on the water, the reflection of the moon on the surface of the lake matching the sparkling, bright reflection of it in his eyes.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Jungkook whispers after a moment, still trembling against Taehyung’s side. His face is visibly flushed from the fever and the cool air outside, his eyes are glassy and he can barely lift his head from Taheyung’s shoulder, but the ghost of a smile that suddenly forms on his lips has all of their breaths catching collectively.

“Yeah, baby, it really is,” Namjoon whispers back. His fingers card through Jungkook’s hair and he leans over to kiss Jungkook’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Jungkook closes his eyes. “Love all of you.”

“We love you so much,” Jimin says, sniffling wetly.

“So much,” Seokjin agrees, snuggling into Yoongi’s chest.

“Love you guys,” Taehyung hums happily. His grip tightens around Jungkook’s shivering frame and Hoseok leans over from his chair, stretching across Namjoon to pat Jungkook’s thigh.

The seven of them sit in content silence until they’re all sleepy, more than half of them yawning in regular intervals.

“Um.” Jungkook suddenly clears his throat, and they all look at him. “I don’t want to ruin this moment. And I don’t want to throw up outside,” he says. “But I’m about to ruin this moment and throw up outside.”

“Can you make it inside, to the bathroom, if we help you walk?” Hoseok asks, keeping his voice as level as possible even though his expression betrays his alarm. He jumps out of his seat and crouches in front of Jungkook, holding out both hands. His heart pounds so hard it feels like it might escape his body.

Jungkook makes it to the hall bathroom, just barely.

Hoseok’s heart stays inside his chest, just barely.

After they clean Jungkook up, and then clean the bathroom, they’re all so exhausted they end up in bed together in their massive master bedroom. Jungkook is already asleep on the side closest to the door of the mattress that’s named after some state in America that only Namjoon ever remembers– one of the most important parts of the original blueprint, according to Namjoon– tucked under a thin blanket and curled up on his side. The bed is just big enough that they can fit all seven of them if they squeeze themselves in tight, wrapped around each other like they can’t get enough of their bodies pressed together, skin on skin on skin.

They’re all asleep by the time the sun rises, just barely.

After breakfast the next morning, Jungkook falls asleep sitting upright.

Namjoon isn’t actually sure if he’s truly asleep, but he’s dozing at least, back up against the headboard and head lolling to one side.

He’d been uncharacteristically cranky during breakfast, and had only eaten three or four crackers before trudging to his own bedroom to sit on the bed and do seemingly nothing other than stare at the wall in front of him. It wasn’t until Seokjin followed him shortly after and took his temperature that he discovered his fever had spiked sometime since waking, and that’s when Jungkook had broken down into tears, delirious with renewed anxiety about falling sick while on vacation.

Now, Namjoon eases Jungkook down onto his back, shushing him when he stirs with a moan, eyelashes fluttering in an attempt to open.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” Namjoon whispers, carding his hands through Jungkook’s hair until he stills again.

He tucks a heating pad under the covers with Jungkook, placing it on his stomach, and Jungkook whimpers and then sighs, expression relaxing. It takes less than five minutes for him to stop shivering, his chills and stomach pain eased by the heat.

Namjoon holds his hand and watches him sleep.

The rest of the day passes by rather uneventfully.

Jungkook wakes up less than two hours later drenched in sweat, fever broken and feeling so weak and achy that he uses his phone to text Taehyung that he’s awake and needs help getting to the bathroom to pee.

Jungkook sits on the toilet and Taehyung hovers just outside the bathroom door waiting for him while Hoseok changes his bedding and Seokjin cooks some white rice. Jungkook manages to eat an entire scoop of rice, even though his stomach lurches dangerously throughout the meal, but he’s able to keep it down and feels marginally better once he drinks the cup of hot ginger tea that Yoongi brews for him afterward.

In the afternoon, Jungkook convinces Yoongi and Hoseok to watch movies with him on the couch when they try to convince him to take a nap.

“You need to rest, bub,” Hoseok tells him, rubbing his back with enough force to also nudge him down the hallway a few steps.

Jungkook puts on his brakes and pouts. “I don’t want to rest,” he says, a shiver running down his spine. He’s starting to feel cold again and he’s dreading the incoming fever he can feel trying to claw its way back, prickling along his skin no matter how many fever reducers he seems to be taking. “I’m tired of being in bed.”

“Come rest in my bed, then,” Yoongi offers, but Jungkook shakes his head.

“Let’s watch a movie or something,” he tries, and Yoongi and Hoseok relent as soon as he turns his wide, pleading eyes on them.

“Fine, but you have to rest on the couch. We’re gonna watch a documentary or something boring.”

Jungkook does not pick out a documentary. He picks out a Marvel movie, and he lets himself be wrapped up like a burrito in several blankets and manhandled until he’s leaning sideways, resting against Yoongi’s side with his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Hoseok snuggles up close on his other side, but he’s careful not to put too much weight on Jungkook so he doesn’t squish him or jostle his sensitive stomach too much.

Halfway through the second movie, when Hoseok spends five minutes just watching Jungkook fight sleep– his eyelids drooping with slow, sleepy blinks– he gets an idea.

“Come put your head in my lap,” he says, turning to sit sideways on the couch with his legs crossed in front of him. He sets a throw pillow in his lap and pats it.

Jungkook yawns and brings up one fist to rub at his eyes. When he sits up straight, Yoongi not so subtly rolls his shoulder and stretches his arm out in front of him, shaking the numbness away, but Jungkook doesn’t even notice, too focused on his task of lying down with his head on the pillow in Hoseok’s lap. Yoongi adjusts himself to a more comfortable position, sliding down so he can rest his head back against the couch cushions, and then tugs Jungkook’s socked-feet into his own lap so that he can stretch out lengthwise along the couch.

Hoseok starts by combing his fingers gently through Jungkook’s hair over and over again, untangling his wavy locks until they’re all smoothed back away from his face. Jungkook nearly falls asleep from that alone. His eyes close as Hoseok continues the repetitive motion. Then, Hoseok takes a section of Jungkook’s hair and starts to braid it– it takes him a few tries to remember the right way to do it– but eventually he gives up on trying to make it look right and just plays with Jungkook’s hair until he hears a light snoring sound.

When he looks down at Jungkook, however, he’s surprised to see that Jungkook is awake, eyes glued on the TV screen. He frowns in confusion, but then he hears the snoring again and he looks around in confusion.

That’s when he sees Yoongi, asleep on the other end of the couch, snoring softly with his mouth parted just slightly as his chest rises and falls in a slow, even pattern. The sight makes Hoseok snort in surprise. Jungkook startles, looking up at Hoseok when he nudges him, and then follows his gaze over to Yoongi.

Jungkook giggles.

It makes Hoseok’s heart flutter, to hear the sound after not hearing it for too long since Jungkook has been sick.

When Yoongi sucks in a breath mid snore and awakens with a little smack of his lips before looking over at both of them, corners of his lips turned down in a sleepy frown at being woken up, Jungkook giggles again, the sound light and joyful and so, so wonderful.

Yoongi’s frown is wiped right off his face, and even though he’s blushing at being caught asleep, he leans over and nuzzles into the blankets covering Jungkook’s legs, wrapping his younger partner’s lower half in a gentle, happy hug.

“How do you make drinking water look so sexy?”

Jimin sputters, nearly spitting out a mouthful of water, and he turns to glare at Taehyung while he coughs a few times and then drags his sleeve over his mouth to wipe up the spilled water.

“Sorry, sorry,” Taehyung says, not sounding very sorry at all.

He settles next to Jimin at the counter and pats Jimin’s back while he takes another careful sip of water and then leans forward on his elbows. Jimin clears his throat several times and then rests his cheek on one hand, still glaring, eyes tired.

“Sorry I made you almost choke on your water,” Taehyung says, his sweet tone making Jimin roll his eyes. He frowns after, then disappears for a moment before returning with a tissue in hand. “Here, your nose is running.”

Jimin takes the tissue and wipes his nose.

“Yeah, I think some water came out of my nose,” he replies testily, sniffling into the tissue.

“Sorryyy,” Taehyung repeats, dragging out the word before leaning over to plant a quick kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Um…would you like to go on an evening walk with me?” He asks sheepishly, batting his eyelashes prettily.

Jimin sighs and resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “I’m tired, Tae,” he says softly, sniffling again before cleaning his throat.

“It will just be a short walk. It’s so nice outside tonight!”

Jimin is silent for a moment, but he’s weak to Taehyung’s hopefully, puppy-like expression.

“Fine.”

When they step outside, Taehyung holds his hand out, palm up, and Jimin huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, lacing his fingers through Taehyung’s.

“Thank you,” Taehyung says softly, once they’ve walked for a bit. “For coming with me. And for holding my hand. I love you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jimin retorts, but there’s a smile on his face. He clears his throat. “Love you too. This is really nice.”

Taehyung swings their arms back and forth between them as they walk on the path that encircles the lake. When they’ve been walking for ten minutes or so, he suddenly stops, turning to face Jimin.

“We should dance in the moonlight,” he says dreamily, his hands moving to Jimin’s waist. He sways from side to side, a cheesy grin on his face, and Jimin just rolls his eyes in fond annoyance.

When he stops moving, Taehyung pulls Jimin close, until their chests are flush against each other, and leans forward to press his lips to Jimin’s forehead.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, voice low and silky.

“Taehyung?”

Jimin looks up into Taehyung’s eyes. His tongue darts out over his lips.

“Yeah, love?”

“My feet are tired. Will you carry me home?”

Taehyung’s face falls.

“Carry you? How am I supposed to carry you all the way back? We’re on the other side of the lake!”

“You’re the one who said it would be a short walk,” Jimin reminds him. “Oh– hold on, I–” He breaks off abruptly to sneeze, head bobbing forward with the soft sound that catches them both off guard.

“Oh! Are you getting cold out here?” Taehyung asks, already shrugging out of his jacket. Halfway through he hears Jimin suck in a breath and he stops, instead reaching out instinctively to grab Jimin’s shoulder as he sneezes a second time and his body lurches forward.

“Okay, okay,” Taehyung says with a chuckle. “Take my jacket and then climb onto my back.”

Jimin sniffles as he wraps Taehyung’s coat around his shoulders– he does feel extra cold now, though he has been cold all day– and then jumps onto Taehyung’s back when he crouches down in front of him.

Taehyung gives him a piggyback ride all the way back to the house. When they return, Taehyung makes them both hot chocolate and they curl up under a blanket on Taehyung’s bed to watch a show on his iPad, snuggling until Jimin falls asleep with his face smushed against Taehyung’s shoulder.

One of Yoongi’s favorite parts about being on vacation is having slow, lazy mornings.

He’s never really considered himself a morning person anyway, but work usually has him awake and on the move early, sometimes before the sun is even fully up, a cup of coffee the only thing to get him through the first hours of the day without feeling irritated at the world.

This morning, he’s working on music, sitting on his bed with his guitar in his lap. Jungkook is asleep in his own bed, Jimin and Taehyung are watching TV in the living room, and Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok are out on the lake for a morning of fishing. Yoongi will be happy to spend time together with his boyfriends later in the day, but for now he is content with spending time by himself. It’s resulting in half a song written so far– not for work, but for fun, something he hasn’t done in far too long.

Yoongi feels more than hears Taehyung enter his room, the floor vibrating with bouncing footsteps, a slight movement in the air like a gentle summer breeze as the door is whisked open and then just as quickly pushed shut before he marches over and climbs onto the bed that shakes under his movement.

He settles in front of Yoongi on his knees, waiting with his arms crossed until Yoongi strums one final chord and then jots something down on his notepad before speaking.

“Why is everyone trying to work when we’re on vacation?” Taehyung pouts, lifting Yoongi’s arm so he can worm his way in between the guitar and Yoongi’s body. “Hoseokie was revising his sub plans for absolutely no reason, and earlier I caught Jinnie working on his supply order spreadsheet for September.”

“This isn’t work work,” Yoongi murmurs, a small smile playing at his lips. He sets his guitar to the side. “Just…a song.”

“Hmm.” Taehyung straddles Yoongi’s lap and throws his arms around his neck, leaning forward until their foreheads are touching. “Is it a song for me at least?”

“I just had something I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“You know what I can’t get out of my head?” Taehyung asks, leaning back just slightly, his gaze moving to Yoongi’s lips and then back up to his eyes.

“Why don’t you show me?” Yoongi replies with a chuckle, and Taehyung is eager to oblige, tilting his chin until their lips meet.

Yoongi is pleasantly surprised by Taehyung’s little intrusion. He slides his hands down to Taehyung’s waist and relaxes against the headboard, letting Taehyung deepen the kiss, chasing after him like a man on a mission. Taehyung kisses him with a skillful yet frenzied passion, taking exactly what he wants, and Yoongi is more than content to let him have it.

They’re still kissing several minutes later when Jimin knocks softly on the door.

“Oh,” Jimin says when he spots them on the bed, lips red and swollen. “Oh?”

Taehyung lets out a sound that’s between a whine and sigh, and Jimin is by his side in an instant, settling on the bed next to both of them.

“C’mere, Minnie,” Taehyung whispers, and Jimin smiles into a kiss, one of his hands finding Yoongi’s while the other slides up to cup the back of Taehyung’s neck.

The kiss is short, a little messy, and afterward Taehyung blinks up at Jimin and smirks.

“Now kiss hyung,” he orders, voice raspy, and Jimin easily complies, turning his head and slotting his lips against Yoongi’s.

Their kiss is more gentle, a little slower, two pairs of lips moving in time to a single beat, tongues dancing together only briefly before Yoongi hums a low sound and pulls away to catch his breath. He’s aware of Taehyung’s eyes on him, burning and hungry, and he feels a pleasant warmth spreading throughout him, radiating from low in his belly.

“Hyungs?”

The voice that calls out is so weak and distant that they almost don’t hear it, but the moment it registers the three of them are scrambling out of the room and down the hall to Jungkook’s room.

“Kookie? What’s wrong?” Taehyung gets there first, rushing to the side of the bed.

Jungkook flops onto his back and looks up at him with tired eyes. “Oh, I wasn’t sure if anyone was here,” he says, his breath catching on the last word as a wave of pain makes his stomach clench. “I, uh, thought you all might be outside…it’s been so quiet.”

“Are you okay? What do you need, sweetie?” Jimin asks, eyebrows furrowed as he inspects the younger man. “Do you need some help getting to the bathroom?”

“No, I just–” He rolls over onto his side, dragging the blanket with him, his hands in fists as he brings them up to his chest. “I just wanted…to see if anyone could lie down with me for a bit.” The last part of his sentence is mumbled, and he shifts restlessly on the bed, unable to get comfortable. “You don’t have to,” he’s quick to add, gaze moving between the three of them. “If you’re busy, it’s okay.”

Jimin is still stuck in a state of worry, but Yoongi and Taehyung both snort at the same time, their entire bodies relaxing with the knowledge that nothing is seriously wrong with Jungkook.

“Of course we can stay!” Taehyung beams at Jungkook. “We were just making out, but we can do that any time. We’d much rather cuddle with you.”

He waits while Jungkook, confusion etched on his features, scoots over in the bed to allow room for him to get in, and then he slips under the blanket next to him.

“Ohhh, you’re hot. Let’s get this sweatshirt off of you, ‘kay?”

Jungkook still looks adorably confused but he lets Taehyung tug his hoodie over his head before speaking. “What do you mean you were making out?” He asks when he’s in just a t-shirt, Taehyung pressed up against his side.

“Umm…” Jimin gets in the bed on Jungkook’s other side, desperately trying to think of a way to switch the topic, but Taehyung just laughs.

“It was so hot, Kookie. You should have seen Jiminnie and Yoongi kissing each other. When you’re feeling better, we’ll show you, okay?”

Yoongi bites back a smile and settles down on the other side of Jimin, arm resting on the pillow above Jimin’s head so he can reach over to run his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “Don’t listen to Tae, baby. We weren’t doing anything, really. We’re more than happy to lie down with you for as long as you want us to.”

They all watch in amusement, and then alarm, as Jungkook finally processes the words, his mouth falling open wide for a moment before his bites down on his lip and his eyes well up.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You were having a good time and I interrupted. I’m so sorry!”

Hot tears pour down Jungkook’s face and Jimin frantically shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s waist. “No! No, Jungkookie, you didn’t interrupt!”

“Oh, baby!” Taehyung laughs, cupping Jungkook’s cheek. “I wasn’t telling you to make you sad. I was just trying to distract you. Now I’ll have to make it up to twice as good to you when you’re all better.” He leans in close, whispers like he has a secret for only Jungkook to hear even though Yoongi and Jimin are still listening. “Bet you’d be so good listening to me tell you how to take your hyung apart with those lips, hmm?”

Jungkook, still crying, snorts out a watery laugh and covers his face with both hands, cheeks burning pink.

“Can’t wait,” Jimin giggles, leaning down to press his lips to Jungkook’s hot cheek. “Oh, you really are very warm. Can I take your temperature?”

“Let me,” Yoongi says, climbing out of bed to fetch the thermometer.

Jimin makes room for him to crawl beside Jungkook when he returns, and he sits on the bed and carefully guides the thermometer under Jungkook’s tongue one-handed. In his other hand is a folded wet cloth, and he uses it to wipe the tears from Jungkook’s cheeks while they wait for a reading. Jungkook groans loudly when a wave of nausea hits hit at the same time that Yoongi tries to place the cool washcloth on his forehead, mouth tightening around the thermometer, and for a moment the three of them freeze, worried he might be about to throw up right then and there; after several long, tense seconds, Jungkook shivers hard and his face relaxes slightly.

The thermometer beeps then. Yoongi takes it out and looks at the temperature, tilting it side to side so Taehyung and Jimin can both see the number– 39 degrees even.

“Please, no,” Jungkook whispers, his body shaking with chills. “Too cold.”

It takes a moment for Yoongi to realize he’s referring to the cloth on his forehead. “Doesn’t it feel nice and cool, though? Your skin is so warm, baby.”

All it takes is one pout from Jungkook for Yoongi to sigh and remove the washcloth. He carries it and the thermometer back to the bathroom and then returns to settle back in the bed on the other side of Jimin again.

As the three of them shift around him to get comfortable, Jungkook swallows thickly and squeezes his eyes shut. His jaw is set and Taehyung sees him swallow again, seemingly in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and uses it to wipe the beads of sweat forming along Jungkook’s brow.

“Hurts,” Jungkook whimpers, hands clutching his belly.

“Do you want me to rub your tummy, sweetie?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook nods through a groan.

“Let me know if you feel like you’re gonna throw up or something,” Taehyung tells him.

Jungkook sighs when Jimin slips a hand under his shirt and starts rubbing circles on his stomach, but after less than a minute he makes a small sound in the back of his throat– for a split second Taehyung fears the worst, but then Jungkook yawns widely, his body shuddering along with the motion.

“Ohh, sleepyhead,” Taehyung chuckles, kissing his forehead. “You’re so cute.” He smiles when Jungkook blinks sleepily up at him. “You’re making me feel tired.”

Jungkook frowns at that. “I don’t want to keep you awake if you’re tired,” he whispers. He looks over his shoulder at Jimin and then props himself up a little so he can look at Yoongi too. He’s about to say something, but then he yawns again and it sets off a chain reaction of yawns– first Yoongi yawns, and then Jimin and Taehyung yawn at the same time, giggling softly afterward.

“Hyungies are so tired,” Jungkook pouts. “Please go rest. I’ll be okay by myself now.”

Jimin’s hand stills on his stomach. “Kookie, we’re fine. You’re the one who needs to worry about getting rest.”

“Please,” Jungkook says. His voice is shaky and hoarse. “Please. I don’t want you to run yourselves down looking after me.”

“How about this,” Yoongi interjects quickly. “You fall asleep first, then we’ll all go and take a nap too.”

Jungkook sticks out his lower lip. “If I fall asleep first, how will I know if you keep up your end of the bargain?”

Jimin laughs and resumes rubbing his belly. “Jungkook, we promise. None of us are going to say no to a nap right now.”

Jungkook is silent for a few moments while he thinks it over.

“If you fall asleep first, we’ll go take a nap and I'll play guitar for you later,” Yoongi offers, sweetening the deal.

They all see the way Jungkook’s eyes light up at the offer, and they exchange grins as he curls onto his side and tugs the comforter to his chin.

“Okay. Look, I’m going to sleep.” He closes his eyes and squirms a little until he’s more comfortable, tucking his hands between his cheek and the pillow. He’s still for a moment, and then he cracks eye open and looks at Taehyung in front of him.

“Have a good nap, hyung,” he whispers, and then closes his eyes again, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Jimin chuckles and pats Jungkook’s hip. “Okay okay. We’re all going. You have a good nap too, sweetie. Please call us if you need us, okay?”

Jungkook hesitates to respond, already thinking of how he’d use his phone to call one of the others in case the three of them actually do go take a nap– or some other activity in bed– but then the three of them are slipping out of his room, footsteps light, and he feels the warm tug of drowsiness tugging him closer to sleep, and he lets it pull him all the way under without a fight.

part 3

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