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espresseo-cafe · 2 years

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coming home | johnny | oneshot

pairing: dad!johnny x mom!reader

genre: syrup-y latte

bean count: 1.6k+

a/n: here’s a cute dad!johnny fluff for you! i missed writing fluff 🙈 hope you enjoy reading this as much i did writing it ☕️

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as time struck 4pm, johnny quickly glanced around the staff room and swiftly shoved his files and papers in his bag. his colleagues perked up at the hustle he had been recently doing whenever the day came at this certain time, only to shake their heads playfully as the door slammed of their quiet workspace.

“he’s coping up, isn’t he?” kun fixed his glasses, smiling as his dimples indented his cheeks because johnny’s little habit reminded of himself before.

jaehyun laughed, agreeing with him. stretching as the day came into an end, he realized, “oh right, how long has it been already? seems like he’s still struggling at it.”

kun slung his shoulder bag, gesturing jaehyun to leave the office together, “just two days! hahah amateur.”

almost tripping on the way, johnny rushed down the stairs and caught the bus before it left. he panted as he sat down, checking his phone for any updates. a text message from his cousin- seo hyelin, popped out on his notification center.

[hyelin-noona] : couzie bean where are you? i gotta go for my night shift in a bit! 😅

[john] : just got on the bus! will be there soon 🙇🏻‍♂️ how’s the little one?

[hyelin-noona] : adorable! he didn’t give me a hard time! 🤗

[john] : i’m glad 😮‍💨 thanks for looking after him!

[hyelin-noona] : anytime! it’s the summer break, he’s all yours! you sure you can handle him later? 👀

[john] : i survived yesterday, so it’ll be a piece of cake 👍🏻

boy was he so wrong.

when johnny was preparing dinner in the kitchen, he couldn’t even count the times he had to leave the stove to go and check on his crying, seven month old son, who couldn’t stand a minute without him.

he sipped the soup he was cooking and almost burnt his tongue when the baby started to wail a little. unfortunately leaving the television on play wasn’t a solution to keep him occupied.

when he decided to carry him while he fried the chicken, however, his son made a sour face hearing the sizzle of the hot oil. johnny sighed and put him down on his high chair and gave him a cracker.

that’ll settle him, for now. he thought.

dinner went by smoothly.. barely. changing diapers was a hassle as the little one kelt rolling over, ended up peeing on the bedsheet that johnny rubbed his eyes thinking he’d have to wash that first thing in the morning tomorrow.

even worse, the panicked him lifted up the baby and peed on him as well. johnny was dumbfounded but it was shortlived as the baby smiled at him as if he gave him a gift.

johnny thought he’d be able to put him to sleep right after. preparing his bottle of milk, he took the milk formula and warm water. then it struck him, “ah, how to do this again?” he sighed, looking at his son, “i don’t suppose you know how to make this, jesse.”

jesse looked at his dad, giving him a teethless smile. johnny snickered out loud, shaking his head and followed his instincts by putting warm water in the bottle and shaking it with the amount of tablespoons according to the can. shaking several droplets of milk onto his skin, he tasted it and concluded it was okay for jesse to drink.

his heart beated slightly, waiting to see jesse’s reaction. he puffed out a relieved sigh when the baby continued to drink as he laid on johnny’s arms.

“this isn’t so bad at all, huh jesse?” johnny shook him gently while jesse just looked at him with his long lashes. “we’re a good team.”

usually babies sleep around 8pm or so, and johnny thought he’d have some alone time after this. but nope! johnny let out a soft grunt when jesse started to cry nonstop, so he checked for any filled diapers or maybe he wasn’t feeling well.

he placed jesse facing him as he patted his back for some comfort. sighing when he finally leaned on his shoulder and hugged him, having hiccups here and there. he sung a lullaby his mom used to sing to him, five minutes passed and his son was sound asleep and he placed a kiss on his head as he turned off the bedroom lights and kept the baby light on.

opening the door to the bathroom, he turned on the showerhead to wash himself all the dirt he received from jesse: soup stain that splashed on his newly bought shirt, pee stain from the diaper disaster after dinner, milk vomit he got by the neck and shoulder, and the difficult phase of putting him to sleep.

he wondered how you were able to do this so flawlessly, and singlehandedly. being a mother was a 24/7 job, tirelessly working around the clock just to provide jesse’s needs. sometimes he was your big baby too, giving him a good dinner after a stressful day at work or giving him sweet embraces and massages to ease his mind.

that was why he wanted to work harder for his little family. and now that you were away, he had to work much harder since it was just him and jesse right now. gosh, how much he missed you.

24/7 during those seven months of love and care you gave was nothing compared to the two days he did. that was a huge difference.

the knob of the showerhead squeaked and johnny tried his hardest not to make a noise as he exited the bathroom. his fingers running through his wet hair made him so refreshed that he felt like he hadn’t showered for ages.

his computer rang, receiving a video call request from you. it was the first time you both have been apart since jesse was born and it was your first week back after maternity leave so johnny quickly clicked the button and answered it. “hi babe.”

he saw you shuffling through your things before you look at the screen, “give me a sec- a whole lotta things here.”

felt like forever, but seeing you made him so relaxed. “cool, take your time.”

you scratched your eyebrow and you swore you could’ve dropped your phone at the sight of your husband, fresh out from the shower with nothing on but a towel wrapped around his hips. “whoa hey,” you smiled, “how’s everything over there? our house hasn’t burn into bits just yet?”

johnny scoffed, taking a seat on his desktop chair and continued to dry his wet locks. “pfft, what do you take me for?” your laugh was contagious for johnny he nearly made a loud snort, “sigh, it’s manageable. our son is a handful, makes me appreciate you more by the second.”

you pouted in joy hearing that, johnny has a way with sweet words that it warmed your heart. even if he was tired from work, he still tried his best to make you smile by his actions. he’d kiss you passionately until jesse cried, give you warm hugs during movie nights, and listened to your complaints.

“i love you, but i know you know that already.” you chuckled, and for a second johnny paused before smirking at you. “what?”

“of course i know, just that it’s the first time you initiated saying it.” johnny smiled, agh i really miss you. “i love you more. when will you be back?”

his raspy voice was so attractive to you that you almost forgot to mention something. “by the way, my flight’s been rescheduled from next monday to tomorrow. work has been quick. your miserable days are soon to be over.”

you almost snorted seeing johnny’s reaction, he was obviously happy yet he attempted to hide it. “that’s.. that’s great! i’m happy for you. earlier the better.”

“i could tell you’re having a great time with jesse that your bags are showing.” you joked and johnny pretended to be hurt.

“hey, jesse is a sweetheart but he could be a terror.” johnny defended, remembering his cute little smile.

“wonder where he got that from.” you sarcastically pinpointed, earning a chuckle from him.

“i swear when you get back-“ he turned his head to the side and heard jesse making a fuss in the next room, sighing a bit before leaving and that made you giggle.

“oh you woke him up.” you teased as you waited a minute or two until he entered your shared bedroom with your son in his arms. “hi baby! how’s my little bear?”

the sound of your voice and your face on the computer screen made your son let out a gurgle and you were glad you were coming home the next day. you missed your boys so you could say you were homesick.

“baby look, mama’s there.” johnny took his little hand waved it at you.

“papa bear hasn’t given you a tough time, has he?” you continued to tease him, seeing him glare at you playfully. “mama misses you my little jesse bear, i’ll see you soon.”

johnny patted jesse’s bottom as he began to rub his eyes, “alright, he’s sleepy again. i gotta hit the sack too. it’s 1:30am here.”

you nodded, “mhm alright, i’m gonna go for lunch and walk around the city. i’m meeting eomma and appa after this.”

he smiled as he heard this, “okay. send my regards to them. we have to visit chicago this december, it’ll be jesse’s first christmas with them.”

“will do.” you gave a flying kiss and wave a goodbye to your boys. “love you both, see you in a bit.”

johnny mirrored your gesture before turning off the pc and readied himself for bed.

“love you too babe. goodnight.”

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goldentournesol · 4 years

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Double Whammy

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader gets a nasty cold and is on her period at the same time, so Spencer takes care of her.

Length: 2.6k

A/N: thank you for the request @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto ! I enjoyed writing this one, IT’S SO FLUFFY!

masterlist

Sometimes, the stars align and something favorable happens. Other times, the stars want nothing to do with each other and every possible thing that less than favorable happens. Unfortunately, the latter had been Y/N’s case for the past two days. She’d been fighting off a nasty, terrible cold. She didn’t get sick often, but when she did, it felt like her body’s main goal was to punish her for not being careful enough rather than heal itself. Her bones ached and her nose was blocked in a way that made her feel as though she’d never breathe properly again. On top of all that, her uterus made sure to be as unforgiving as possible as the dreaded time of the month rolled around. She could barely keep her eyes open as her body fought through the exhaustion that came with the double-whammy.

It was around 4 in the afternoon and Y/N had barely left the bed at all. She wished for some type of relief from her cramps but it just wasn’t coming. Her migraine wasn’t helping her out either. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had any water to drink.

“Hello?” She croaked into the phone with a heavy cough. It came as a surprise to her that she even managed to let out a single word, although it sounded more like ‘bellow’ than ‘hello’.

“Y/N! How are you feeling today, my love?” Spencer’s chipper voice boomed through the speaker.

“Not much better to be honest.” She murmured into the phone which was laying on the pillow that Spencer slept on, barely able to keep her puffy eyes open. He heard her blow her nose and she uttered a small apology, knowing that must not have been pleasant to hear over the phone. He felt his heart twist in his chest, knowing she was feeling so under the weather and not be able to make her feel better.

He was currently on a case somewhere in the deserts of California. She hadn’t caught the cold yet when he left. She knew that he would have stayed with her if she’d caught it before he left, which would have made her feel like the biggest burden there was and she also knew that her boyfriend wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But, I have great news. We closed the case, I’m getting on the jet now. I should be home in no time.” He says softly and she can feel a small smile fighting its way onto her face.

“That’s great, Spence…” she trailed off, losing more energy by the second, “Get home safe, love you.”

“Love you more.” Spencer hung up and felt his shoulders drop in defeat before making his way back to his team as they climbed onto the jet. The guilt he felt for leaving her alone was overwhelming. He should be there for her, making her feel better. He knew she hated asking for help, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taken care of herself at all. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

It felt wrong walking in and finding their apartment void of any light or sound. Usually, there was some sort of noise or light coming from either a TV or a phone. He quietly made his way over to the bedroom and heard her snores. He sighed in relief, knowing she was at least resting. Spencer made his way over to the kitchen and figured she must have been starving. There was no evidence of any food or drink anywhere. He wondered when the last time she ingested something was.

He made a quick call to Rossi, unsure of his cooking skills. He checked the fridge and pantry for the necessary ingredients and attempted to make chicken noodle soup with whatever they had available. He yawned as he cut up the vegetables, but quickly fought the sleep to continue cooking. He heard her soft snores stop and he peeked his head into the dark room again.

“Spence?” She managed to say softly, the thick covers muffling her voice.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here.” He smiled as he approached their bed and turned on the lamp by their bedside. She winced at the sudden brightness and he quickly tried to block the light with his body to provide her eyes with some relief.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly as he took a seat at the edge of the bed. He took in her puffy eyes and red nose and wondered how she could still look so cute. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly and shook her head.

“I feel like absolute shit.” She mumbled and his heart dropped in his chest.

“Have you had anything to eat...or drink?” He bit his lip, already knowing the answer. She shook her head again softly, almost guilty.

“Alright, I’m making you some soup. I think a hot shower will make you feel a lot better, Y/N/N. Come on, out of bed.” he tried to coax her with his hands. She only peered back at him over the duvet with tired eyes and small hands that wrapped around the edge of the duvet, Spencer found himself reveling in her adorable appearance and feeling bad about ruining her comfort, but he knew she probably stayed in bed all day. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t move. He smiled with relief when she didn’t fight him as he gently pulled back the covers from over her.

“Come here, baby.” He motioned for her to come closer into his embrace. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and he lifted her out of bed, her legs locking behind his waist. He heard her sniffle into his neck as he carried her to the bathroom, he didn’t know whether she was crying or if it was just from the cold. He was too good to her, she didn’t know what she did to deserve such a compassionate partner, but she thanked the universe for allowing her to have him. Perhaps a tear or two managed to slip out of her eyes and into Spencer’s hair. Spencer turned his head slightly to press a kiss to her temple, murmuring into her hair, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He set her down as gently as he could and began to run the hot water.

“Okay, this should be perfect for decongesting your nasal pathways and loosening up the phlegm--” he stopped himself, knowing her head was probably pounding, “The soup should be ready by the time you finish your shower. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” He squeezed her shoulders and she sent him a tearful smile.

As he closed the bathroom door, he took notice of a red patch of blood on the bed sheet on the mattress. He hastily checked his phone for the date and realized that her monthly visitor would be in fact--visiting. Spencer’s heart wrenched yet again as he could only imagine how horrible she really felt at the moment. He didn’t hesitate to change the sheets and clean the mattress of any remnants before neatly restoring order to the bed. He wanted to make sure she was taken care of, especially since he’d been away for so long.

Somehow, he’d lost track of the pot that was currently boiling over the stove. He rushed to it, thankfully catching the pot right before it overflowed. He brought a spoon up to his lips and immediately winced at the lack of flavor. Spencer added some salt and continued to stir as he heard soft footsteps behind him. Y/N hugged his waist from behind silently and smushed her face against his back. Spencer smiled widely as he took the soup off the heat and swiveled around to wrap his arms around her. She noticed that he’d changed the sheets and made the bed and she honestly thought she was about to cry again.

“I missed you.” She mumbled into his shirt. Spencer kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“I missed you way more. I’m so sorry for being away while you’ve been--” He began to apologize but was interrupted by her frantically shaking her head.

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re back.” The words barely made it past her lips, her voice hoarse. She lifted her head from his chest to gaze at him and they both adoringly stared at each other for a bit too long. He reluctantly pulled away from the embrace to ladle some soup into a bowl while it was still hot. He made himself a bowl as well since he hadn’t had any dinner. She sighed heavily as she sat at the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, setting the two bowls down.

“I...I don’t feel like eating.” She pouted again, Spencer knew this was the cold talking.

“I don’t think you want to hear me list the benefits of soup when you have a cold.” Spencer teased, even though he knew she loved his info-dumps. She rolled her eyes playfully, smiling at him. “Besides, you haven’t eaten or drank anything in...judging by the color of your tongue and lips, around 16 hours. You need something in your system so you can take some medication to make you feel better, sweetheart.” He said as he hungrily spooned soup into his mouth. It really wasn’t that good, but it’d do the job.

She nodded, giving in and taking her first spoonful of soup. She giggled right after it.

“I know it’s not that good.” Spencer laughed.

“I didn’t say that!” She laughed back at him. She was happy to finally get out of the rut she was in and who would be able to do that better than Spencer? “Honestly, Spencer, it’s pretty good.”

“If you say so.” He grinned and took her hand over the table. They sipped their soup in a comfortable silence and she even got up to ladle a second helping of soup. It was the first thing she’d eaten in a while and her stomach appreciated the warmth.

“Do you need me to get you anything from the store?” he asked later as he put both their dishes away. He brought her some medicine for her cold and a cup of water, motioning for her to take them. He also made sure to make her some chamomile tea to help ease the cramps.

She nodded sheepishly, taking the medicine, “Chocolate.”

He laughed, fully expecting the response. “Alright, how about you set up a movie and drink your tea? I won’t take long.” He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and walked towards the door.

“Spencer!” She called after him, sniffling again and wiping at her nose.

“Yeah?” He called back, slipping on his shoes.

“I also need pads!” She reminded him and he laughed.

“Okay, anything else?”

“Yes! I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He grinned as he made his way to the store.

She grabbed her cup of tea and plopped down onto the couch, setting up a movie that wouldn’t agitate her headache. As Spencer promised, he was back quickly. He changed into something comfortable and made his way over to the couch with her chocolate in his hand. She smiled gratefully as she unwrapped it and devoured half of it. Spencer could only watch with adoration.

“How is it?” he asked, watching her lick the corner of her lips, trying to get all the chocolate she possibly could.

“It’s the best thing I’ve had all day, Spence.” She threw herself in his arms, her head resting soundly on his chest, “Besides this, of course.” Spencer smiled as wide as he could as he rubbed her back. She pulled her head off his chest to stare at him in wonder.

“I will never get over how lucky I am to have you.” She whispered softly and Spencer resisted the tears threatening to rise in his eyes. He just sent her a watery smile and shook his head in disbelief, not trusting his words. He had no idea where he would even begin to describe how lucky he felt to have her. She placed a soft hand on the side of his neck to pull his cheek closer to kiss it, she would have kissed his lips but she didn’t want him to get sick. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she admired him. At this point, the movie was long forgotten, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to watch it.

“Hm, it’s getting long.” She twirled a piece around her fingers. Spencer nodded as he stared back at her.

“Do you...want to braid it?” He asked tentatively, instantly noticing how her face beamed at the idea. She’d always asked him if she could braid it for him but he always refused. But looking at her now, he’d let her do anything she wanted, especially if it meant making her feel better.

“Really?! You mean it? You’re not just offering because you pity me?” She squeaked excitedly.

“Well...that’s only part of it.” He laughed and rolled his eyes. She gasped and got up to walk to their bedroom to get a comb and some hair ties. This was the most energized she’d been since Spencer had seen her and he wasn’t about to deny that seeing her excited made it worth whatever was about to happen.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to sit on the floor. You’re too tall for me.” She said as she took her seat on the couch. Spencer moved to the floor and sat down between her legs. Her fingers threaded through his mop of curls and he instantly relaxed at her touch. She began to gently comb through his tangles, careful not to hurt him. He really didn’t mind, it brought him inexplicable peace, especially after a long day.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me now?” She teased as she noticed his closed eyes and the way his head felt heavier against her hands.

“Mmm, I might.” He hummed.

She giggled and separated his hair into four sections, French braiding each one. It was nice to have a distraction. The only thing keeping Spencer’s head propped up was her knee and she thought he genuinely fell asleep until he felt the absence of her fingers in his hair.

“Are you done?” He asked quietly, his hand coming up to feel the braids. He took it as a yes when she didn’t smack his hand away. “Y/N, they feel so cool. I have to see.” He got up from his spot with a grunt and went into the bathroom to check himself out.

“I don’t think it suits me.” He laughed, unconvinced at his appearance. He brushed his teeth while he was at it. She laughed and shook her head in response, getting ready for bed as well.

“I personally think you look great! You should sleep with them in and we can see what your hair will look like in the morning.” She tried to reason with him, she just really didn’t want him to take them out so soon. He shook his head at her once again and turned the TV off with a huge yawn.

“Come on, Spence, let’s get in bed.” She grabbed his hand and took him to the bed. They instinctively wrapped their arms around one another.

Spencer whispered in her ear, “Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?”

She nodded against him, “Thank you, Spencer. I love you so much.” He smiled.

“I love you, more. Goodnight, Y/N.” She was already out like a light before she could respond.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid masterlist #cm

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masterweaverx · 3 years

Text

Pit Stop

"So you hear about that Ruby transmission?"

Cinnamon chuckled. "It's all anybody's talking about," she said as she handed a plate to him. "We only get spotty transmission out here, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but... still." The customer laughed a little awkwardly. "Atlas being under attack, magic being real, this... Salem person... It's a lot."

Cinnamon nodded, looking around the pub. It wasn't anything too fancy, they were just a village after all, but it was an informal gathering spot for both the villagers themselves and travelers just passing through. Some tables had people clustered around them, while others had but a single customer apiece; it wouldn't have been anything unusual if it weren't for the hushed murmurings and occasional glances northward.

"Well, it's only been about a day, right?" Cinnamon reassured the man. "They're probably still holding out up there."

"...right." The man took his fork and began poking at the food in front of him.

Cinnamon sighed, heading back behind the counter. It was a slow day... which, given what that Ruby girl had said, was only to be expected. The casual vibe of the pub didn't really gel with the tension in the air; even the stress drinkers had just dropped by, bought a bottle or two, and walked out. She could see some of her customers eyeing the kegs.

Just scrub the glasses, she told herself. Scrub the glasses and look calm and relaxed. She wasn't a huntress, but damned if she didn't know the importance of image in keeping negativity down...

They'd get updates, eventually. Probably from some force heading up from Vale. Or... maybe, if things were really horrible, from some Atlesian refugees. No matter what, it would take a few days.

She couldn't help worrying, of course, who wouldn't be worried, but it wasn't like she could make time move faster. It had only been a day, after all.

There was a strange sound from outside, an oddly growling hiss. For a moment Cinnamon gripped her cleaning rag tighter. There would have been shouts from the lookouts if Grimm were approaching, right? Unless they'd been so rattled by the transmission that they forgot to--

--no. Even with that message, they wouldn't have abandoned their posts. They didn't during the fall of Beacon, after all.

"Somebody's just messing with burn Dust," she suggested casually, to nobody in particular. "Probably just a few teens... hopped up on bravery and wanting to go fight monsters in Atlas, you know?"

There were a few chuckles, but they were strained. The sort that were made by obligation--

One of the customers, leaning to peer out a window, jumped back with a yelp. "It's--! There's a Grimm woman!" he gasped. "It's gotta be Salem!"

Another customer rolled her eyes with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, you've probably had a bit too much to drink--"

Twinkli-linki-link...

Cinnamon looked at the door as it swung open, and her breath caught in her throat. The figure that practically glided in was breathtaking, in the same way a Sea Feilong was; tall, elegant, pristine, and as clearly capable of slaughter as any Grimm she could name. Her black dress, lined with red, certainly made her look like one; it was a resemblance only furthered by her bone-white hair and skin. Purplish veins crawled up her arms and under her sleeves, reemerging round her neck to frame a pair of dark eyes--utterly black, save for the rings of red that ross from their shadowy depths.

One hand was wrapped around an ornate golden staff, which was capped with a blue gem. The other, bearing a ring that resembled nothing so much as a beetle, gestured around the room surprisingly gently.

"I see you have a table available."

It took Cinnamon a couple of seconds to process that. She looked to see that, yes, there was an empty table--there were quite a few, in fact. "Ah... so I do," she replied, voice quavering.

"I believe we will take it. If you would be so kind...?"

Cinnamon put down her glass, quickly reemerging from the bar. "Right this way, ma'am," she said automatically.

The tall woman walked past her, and only then did Cinnamon register the second woman following behind her. The gold-embroidered black garb she wore was short but elegant, much like the hair covering her eyepatch. In fact, she almost looked like a freshly graduated huntress; if it weren't for the fact her left arm consisted of Grimm flesh and the way her amber eye produced literal fire, Cinnamon wouldn't have any idea why she'd be smugly trailing after the bone-white woman.

She shared a nervous look with one of the customers, flicking her eyes toward the door. The man's eyes widened, and he nodded subtly, casually walking out as the new pair seated themselves.

"...So." Cinnamon said, forcing her fear out of her voice. "What will it be?"

"Oh, nothing too much," the pale woman assured her. "A small meal will suffice."

The younger woman frowned for a moment, but nodded. "Perhaps... do you have fish and chips?" she asked.

Cinnamon almost said no, out of habit, but cut herself off. "We... have a salmon soup," she offered hesitantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other customers quietly filing out.

"Hmm." The younger woman shakes her head. "I'd prefer something more... solid."

"Would a chicken sandwich do the trick?" Cinnamon offered.

The younger woman nodded. "I think it would, actually."

"And..." Cinnamon turned to the beautiful violation of all she had ever thought she'd known. "What will it be for you, ma'am?"

The Grimm woman smiled wryly. "I don't suppose you serve the souls of the innocent here."

"No ma'am. Innocence is a rare commodity these days."

The younger woman actually smirked at that. "Isn't it though."

"Well... perhaps I shall have the salmon soup," the woman offered.

"Of course." Cinnamon took a quick look around the pub; it was almost empty now, save for one horrified customer staring at the scene. She turned back to the pair. "It might be a minute."

"We have all the time in the world."

Cinnamon nodded, heading around the bar. "Get out of here," she hissed to the last customer as she passed.

"You're just serving them--?"

"The longer they're here the longer you have to get to Vale, now move!"

The customer blinked twice, before her eyes widened. She vacated her table with haste, rushing out the door.

"I'm beginning to think the locals don't like us," the younger woman noted calmly.

Shit.

"Ah, it's nothing too much," Cinnamon assured her as she went behind the counter. "Just a bit nervous about celebrities visiting our little village."

"Celebrities?"

Cinnamon very carefully put the pot of soup on the stove, stirring it slowly. "You didn't catch the transmission?"

"Ah," said the bone-white woman. "So, Ruby Rose's message did reach the outside world."

"Whole world, if I heard right." Cinnamon set aside a plate, carefully putting together a sandwich.

"Wait, what transmission?" The young woman looked from Cinnamon to the other. "Was that what Penny was doing with Amity?"

"It was," the bone-white woman replied. "If I recall, you were unconscious at the time."

The younger woman stiffened... and then bowed her head. "I... yes, master. I made an error in judgment."

"Mmm..." The bone-white woman put a hand on her shoulder. "Not all lessons can be taught gently, Cinder."

Cinnamon checked the soup, subtly activating the recording function on her scroll. "So, yeah. What happened after that anyway?"

The bone-white woman gave her a coy smile. "Now, why do you ask that?"

"I'm just a small village chef," Cinnamon replied, pouring the soup into a bowl. "Can't help but be curious about the outside world."

The younger woman--Cinder--examined her Grimm nails. "It was a very busy day in Atlas, honestly."

Cinnamon assembled the sandwich, taking the bowl and plate out to her customers. "I guess it'd have to be. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I suppose I wouldn't mind a glass of wine," the bone-white woman allowed.

"Just water for me," Cinder added.

"Of course." Cinnamon prepared the drinks, surreptitiously looking out the window. Entire families were loading up tightly in the delivery trucks, rolling out through the gates--

"Is something going on out there?"

"Farmers headed out to bale hay," Cinnamon lied smoothly. "Big deal for us small-town folk."

Cinder gave her a look as she put the glasses down. Cinnamon shrugged, retreating behind the counter.

For a minute or two, the only sounds came from Cinder and the other woman quietly eating. She could see how much Cinder savored every bite. And... the other one, she did seem to enjoy the wine, if the way her eyebrow quirked was anything to go by.

"...Three questions."

Cinnamon looked up, keeping a mask of calm even as her heart pounded.

"You have been an excellent host," the bone-white woman continued, "and you reek of fear. So. Three questions."

"Ah." Cinnamon glanced at her hidden scroll, still recording the entire conversation. "How's Atlas doing, you reckon?"

"Oh, it's flooded," Cinder replied casually. "Entire city."

Cinnamon blinked at her, almost opening her mouth--but, no, three questions. Atlas, flooded... well, it was a floating rock, for one. How could they get water up there? Even with a magic rainstorm... no, it didn't make sense. A city in the sky couldn't...

...unless...

Cinnamon swallowed carefully. "I see... what happened to the survivors?"

Cinder frowned, biting into her sandwich aggressively.

"Apparently miss Rose came up with a scheme to get them all to Vacuo," the bone-white woman replied, sipping at her soup. "Which, of course, means I'll be meeting them again fairly soon."

Her smile was far too soft for such a threat. It almost looked motherly, in a way.

Cinnamon felt her heart beating. She glanced out the window again. She couldn't see anybody.

"...How am I going to die?"

The bone-white woman turned to her, then. "Now that is certainly an interesting question. Especially as I don't have an answer. What do you think, Cinder?"

Cinder finished her sandwich, taking a long draft from her glass.

"I think she has options," she said eventually. "We could lock her in this building, weld the doors shut so she can't escape with the rest of her village. I could burn her to death, or freeze her. You could summon any number of Grimm, or even use magic."

"We might do nothing at all," the other woman mused. "Let nature take its course."

"...we could take her with us," Cinder offered. "Hazel was our primary chef, before... well, before."

The bone-white woman quirked a brow. "And how would we carry her?"

Cinder glanced at the staff. "We're not using that for anything right now. An airship would be easy."

The bone-white woman considered this. Cinnamon felt her hands trembling.

"...I will prepare the airship," the woman finally said, standing up. "You will help our new... associate gather what she needs."

Cinnamon flinched as Cinder stood up, quickly ending the recording and sending it out on broadcast. "I, uh, I'm... it might take me a few tries to get your food like you like it--"

The bone-white woman smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry. I have all the time in the world."

#RWBY #Fanfiction #One Shot #Pit Stop #Salem #Cinder Fall

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sleekervae · 3 years

Text

The Neighbour [1.9]

Masterlist

A/N: Yo! Midterms can kiss my a$$!!

Trigger: pregnancy mention

Soft sun rays broke through the curtains and washed over the ceilings. The light turned the dark shelter of eyelids into a bright red and caused a stir in the stagnant bed sheets.

Breaking the harmony of morning gold, Eva awoke to a violent stir in her guts, and she jumped out of bed as if it was red hot and singeing her skin. The sudden commotion woke Remington, ripped from his sleep and thrusted into a panic.

Her footsteps mellowed as she darted into her bathroom and crouched over the toilet. And awful sound erupted as she threw up into the bowl. Remington was quick to come after her and held back her hair as she chucked up what little was in her stomach.

"Shit," she gasped in exhaustion, her violent stomach turns now settled down. She flushed the toilet and sat back on the floor, wiping her mouth with a sheet of toilet paper. Remington crouched beside her, concern and fear flooding his face.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Fuck if I know," she replied breathlessly, her mind trying to push down the anxiety of possibly being exposed to the virus, "Do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine," he nodded, "You think you should go see a doctor?"

"I don't know," she shook her head.

Remington pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, "You're not warm, so you don't have a fever,"

She nodded, "My stomach kind of hurts. You don't think that maybe we were... exposed?"

Remington glanced at the floor, dread filling his chest as he thought it over. They still had their bubble that they were sticking to, and he couldn't see a way that he or Eva had been exposed to covid. Then again, it could've been the smallest, most random thing they touched...

"I don't think so," he shook his head, "We'd both be hurling up if we were,"

Eva sniffled, trying to relax. She was letting her mind race just because she was throwing up and had mild cramps. For all she knew, she it was side effects from her period.

"You want me to run you a bath?" Remington asked softly.

Eva chewed on her lip, her eyes heavy and her skin pale. She felt like complete shit, but a bath didn't sound too bad, "Yes please," she replied quietly.

Remington kissed her forehead and went to prep the bath for her. As the warm water splashed into the tub, Eva lurched forward into the bowl again. Remington felt terrible, he felt terrible not being able to help her. He had never seen her look so bad, exhausted, pale, it broke his heart. Guilt riddled up his spine as he thought more and more about what she had said; had they been exposed to covid 19? He would never forgive himself if she had gotten sick because of him.

When the bath was ready, Remington helped Eva in and sat down on the rim beside her. Eva closed her eyes and relaxed in the warm water, the heat almost as good as a hug from him. She let out a soft exhale as she sunk up to her neck in the bath.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern laced in his eyes.

Eva pouted as she looked up at him. Her deep blue eyes were now desaturated and dull, "I've had better mornings," she quipped cheekily, "But I hope you're enjoying yourself,"

"Why's that?"

Eva managed a smile, "You get to sit and look at your naked girlfriend in the bathtub,"

Remington chuckled, "Darling, your nudity is the last thing I'm thinking of. I'm just concerned whether or not you need to see a doctor... or if there's anything I can give you to make you feel better,"

Eva rested her head against the tiled wall behind her, "You sure you're feeling fine?"

Remington nodded, "I feel fine. So most likely we weren't exposed,"

She smiled, pulling her hand from the water to grasp his hand in hers, "I hate being sick," she huffed, "I can't kiss you properly,"

Remington smiled softly and kissed the top of her head, "Can I bring you something to eat? Drink?" he asked gently.

Eva nodded, "Maybe some tea?"

"Of course. One earl grey coming right up," he stood and went for the kitchen, "No sugar?"

"Atta' boy," she grinned weakly and watched him go.

As Remington left the bathroom, Pluto trotted past him to go sit with his master dutifully. Remington got to work on brewing her tea, though the entire time he couldn't help but feel an uneasy sensation fester in his guts. Instinctively, he phoned Sebastian and waited impatiently for him to answer. He was never good with these sort of things, he wasn't familiar with how to take care of someone when they were sick, let alone himself. He tried to push the thought out of his head that Eva had caught the virus, and perhaps it was a 24-hour bug she had instead.

"Hello?" Sebastian's voice came through.

"Hey Seb, you got a minute?" Remington said.

"Yeah, what's up?" Sebastian asked, "How's Eva?"

"That's why I'm calling you," he said, speaking quietly so Eva wouldn't hear him, "She started throwing up this morning and she had stomach pains. I don't know if I should get someone to see her or how I can help her,"

Sebastian was silent for a brief moment, "... She was throwing up this morning?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah. I ran her a bath and I'm making her some tea --"

"Any other symptoms besides vomiting? Fever? Lack of taste?"

"I'm pretty confident she doesn't have the virus. We'd both be sick otherwise," Remington assured him, "I just don't know what else to do for her,"

"... Well... is it possible she's sick not just from a cold or flu?" he asked warily.

"What do you mean?" Remington asked, not following Sebastian's trail.

"You guys have obviously..." Sebastian said, indirectly sewing his seeds.

Realization hit Remington like a truck. There was no way... could there be? "I mean, yeah -- but not without... a-and she's on the pill,"

"But you've been frequenting the last five days?"

"Sure -- I... c'mon, I seriously doubt that that's it," Remington said, "She's got stomach cramps, that can't be a symptom,"

"What do you know about pregnancy symptoms?" Sebastian asked. He didn't think she was pregnant, but he just wanted to make sure that they were prepared for the unlikely scenario.

"Nothing," Remington admitted, "But I don't... I mean... she can't... she's probably just caught some little bug,"

"And if it's not just a 'little bug'?" Sebastian asked.

Remington took a deep breath, "... Then I'll make sure to take good care of her," he spoke without a second thought. A baby. Could she really be having a baby? He felt his stomach churn again. The first thing that came to his mind after he ended his call was that he was nowhere near ready to be a father. He definitely wasn't ready for something like that, but he knew that if she was pregnant, the honourable thing to do would be to stick by Eva and support their child. They'd figure it all out together. His love and certainty for staying by her side didn't lessen the sense of panic that washed over him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way back to the bathroom, kneeling by the bathtub and handing her the tea.

"Thanks," she smiled softly at him and took a small sip. Her hair was damp and her skin flushed, likely from the steam, but in the rays of the sun peaking through she looked more angelic than ever.

His eyes travelled to her stomach and he felt his own lurch again. He just imagined something living in there, moving around under his skin. Something they both had a hand in creating.

"Eva," he spoke up, looking her in the eye, "Do you think you might be something more than sick?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to sound rude of confrontational because he didn't want to give her the impression that if she was pregnant, that he would be upset about it.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Y-You're throwing up this morning and the cramps... I know we've been safe but... what I mean is that if it's something more than sick, I'm going to stick with. you. I'll be right by your side through the whole thing and we can figure it out later," Remington's words fell faster from his lips than he'd planned.

Eva looked at him quizzically, then up at Pluto who sat curled on the counter, then she burst into giggles, "Rem, I'm not pregnant," she said, "It's probably just burn out,"

"Are you sure? Because it's okay if you are --" Remington said as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Her stormy eyes lit up a little at his nerves, "Remington. I'm not pregnant. My God, you think we'd actually be ready to be parents?" she laughed, placing one of her hands on his. The water from her palm seeped down between his fingers, "I'm just sick. Not covid-sick, but some sort of sick," she smiled, "I'm certain of it. So don't scare yourself,"

Remington let out a relief-filled exhaled, "I'm still here for you, sweetheart," he promised.

"What made you think I was pregnant?" she asked.

"Sebastian," he replied sheepishly.

Eva smiled, "Oh brother. Probably brought it up from his own scares with Larissa,"

Remington chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, "I just wanted to make sure,"

Remington stirred a pot of Campbell's chicken soup as at the sun began to dip into the late afternoon. He had his playlist at a very low volume as to not wake Eva who was sleeping soundly in her bedroom. He dipped a finger into the pot and had a taste, relieved everytime he was able to taste and smell something. Not bad Remington, not bad at all. He took the soup off the stove and poured it into a bowl; mushroom soup was Eva's favorite but Remington figured some blander, less dense foods would be better for her.

He took the two bowls of soup into the bedroom where Eva slept soundly. He turned on and dimmed her lamp so it wouldn't be too hard on the eyes. Placing the bowls on the bedside table he gently shook her awake.

"Hey... honey," Remington said softly, smiling warmly at her, "I made some soup if you're hungry,"

Eva slowly opened her heavy eyes, rubbing the sleep away and become aware of where she was again. She was relieved to see his dark eyes staring back at her. A savoury smell wafted through her nose and she looked over at the bowls, sitting up against the headboard and he brushed the loose hair from her face.

"Thanks," she smiled, her voice hoarse as Remington carefully handed her one of the bowls and a spoon. He sat beside her, stirring bits of chicken around in the creamy liquid.

"I know it's not 5 Michelin Stars or nothing..." he simpered.

Eva smiled and kissed his cheek, "This is perfect,"

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"A bit," her stomach having settled after taking some medicine earlier. The smooth, salty goodness of the soup was a nice comfort as it soothed down her throat.

"I did a little bit of reading on your symptoms," Remington said, "Vomiting, nausea, cramps... sounds like you just got a case of food poisoning,"

Eva quirked an eyebrow, "Food poisoning?"

He nodded, "There was a salmonella outbreak at a chicken farm a few weeks back and they just did a recall,"

She smiled weakly, "And I had a chicken burrito yesterday, hence why you're not sick,"

Remington laughed, "Veganism's looking more and more enticing, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I appreciate your expert diagnosis, Dr. Leith. Which means I can kiss you with no recourse, now?"

He smiled and placed a warm hand on her pale cheek, "Absolutely," and he pressed a kiss to her lips, "Even if it was something else, I'd take the risk, anyway,"

Eva smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder, relieved that she could be somewhat affectionate with him again, "You're too lovely,"

"I love you," he smiled at her.

She nudged at his foot with hers, "I love you more,"

"Bullshit," he giggled, kissing the top of her head, "That would be impossible,"

They heard the clicking of claws tapping across the floor, and the bed jolted momentarily as Pluto came crawling towards them. The tabby sat at their feet, staring at the bowls with great expectation. Eva rolled her eyes.

"Relax kitty, I'm still gonna' feed you,"

Remington stood before the bathroom mirror, runnings his fingers through the sides of his hair. His eyebrows were drawn tight to crease at the centre of his forehead and his mouth was pulled into a straight line.

"Should I cut my hair?" he asked, a sensation of uneasiness washing over him. This wasn't even the longest he had had it before, but there was something off putting about the bangs hanging over his eyes, now dyed blue from yesterday's sheer boredom.

"I think it's cute," Eva commented, redressing after her shower. She was practically back to normal after two days of sticking her head in the toilet bowl and feeling like a techno rave was running at full force in her stomach. Remington had taken exceptional care of her, especially considering his lack of knowledge on how exactly to take care of sick people.

She wrapped her arms around Remington's waist and peered over his shoulder, and her eyes lit up at his reflection, "Oh, God! Rem you look so good! I say let it grow!"

Remington chuckled, "Love the flattery, but I'm not sure. Maybe it's the blue?"

"Remington, you look fucking hot," Eva stated, her eyes glued to his reflection. She kissed his neck softly and let go to sit back against the sink counter, admiring the silvery blue coming to life under the lights. She watched as he grabbed his usual jar of hair spray and put his liberty spikes into place.

"One day you're gonna go bald from all that product," she teased.

"Shoot me if I ever go bald," Remington joked.

Eva shook her head, "Nah, I think you could pull off the egg look. I might shave your head in your sleep just to see what you look like," she winked, "I'd still find you sexy, regardless,"

Remington smiled and pulled her lips to his, dipping down and kissing her hard. He grinned against her lips and placed a hand on her jaw, "Please don't get sick again -- I missed kissing you like this too much,"

Eva laughed and kissed his nose, "You're so corny, I might go purposefully contract something just to get away from you,"

Remington's jaw dropped in faux shock as Eva laughed cheekily, pecking him on the cheek and dashing past him. Remington chuckled to himself, quickly fixing his hair once more before following her out. He descended down the stairs of his house with his laptop in hand, having been scheduled for a zoom call with the band's management team to run through the plan and protocol for shooting their next music video. Since all tours and events were called off, and with the release of their graphic novel coming up, the brothers figured they had a perfect opportunity to put their creativity to work.

"How long's your meeting?" Eva asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet for water.

"Probably no more than thirty minutes -- maybe an hour should we get a little sidetracked," he replied, grinning coyly.

Eva simperede, "Only you guys could find new ways to goof off on Zoom meetings," she had her own things that she unpacked from her bag for work, "I can go upstairs if you want,"

"No, no, you stay on the couch. Me and Emerson are going to be in the studio," he said.

"Emerson and I," Eva corrected as she plopped onto the couch, smiling smugly.

Remington rolled his eyes, "My bad," he leaned over the couch and pressed a kiss to her head, "I won't be long,"

"I'll be here," she grinned.

Remington then went to the bottom of the stairs, "EMERSON! C'MON!"

"I'm coming!" the younger brother fumbled around before he came trotting down the stairs, his dishevelled hair and dark eyes making him look as though he had just rolled out of bed, "You know you're loud enough that Canada can hear you?"

Remington’s only response was a petty raspberry.

“Get along, boys!” Eva called as they meandered their way into the studio space.

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Emerson grumbled.

“Oh, quit being such a stick in the mud,” Remington huffed.

The rolling chair Remington sat on made gentle squeals as he turned on his spot, listening to his manager and the rest of the band drone on and one about plans to further promote The Bastards, as well as try to salvage what entertainment plans they could given the circumstances.

“I definitely think we should do another music video,” Sebastian pitched.

“Tonight is the Night I Die?” Remington grinned hopefully.

“Another animation?” their manger, Jeremy asked, “I can get back in touch with the animators for Little Bastards --”

“Do you think it would be possible to do a live action video, instead?” Emerson asked, drumming his fingers on the table anxiously, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved the animation, but you can’t really portray the same emotion we would in real life. I mean -- the most Rem’s avatar did was looked shocked over and over,”

Jeremy rubbed at his chin with unease as he thought it over, “... Well... I can definitely look into it but it won’t be the same kind of shoot that you boys are used to. We’re going to have a lot of safety protocols, and there’s gonna’ have to be rigorous testing --”

“Well, if Lady Gaga could do it, then we could do it,” Remington said.

"Michael could direct for us,” Emerson said.

Jeremy nodded, “Okay. You guys got a story?”

Emerson was quick to respond, “The murder of Aldous Blackwell like in the novel. I want to do full on victorian gothic vampires with stakes and thunder storms and --”

“We can use people in our bubble too,” Sebastian said, “Instead of paid extras as the vampires,”

“Shy would totally be into it,” Emerson nodded.

“So would Larissa,” Sebastian added.

Jeremy was jotting notes on a piece of paper out of frame, nodding quickly, “Alright. I’ll look into protocols for filming and I’ll get Brad on location scouting,”

Sebastian glanced at Remington through his own screen, “Hey Rem, you could ask Eva if she’d want to be part of the video, too,”

Emerson nodded, “Yeah. She just needs to pale out a bit but she would make a cute renaissance vampire,”

The corners of Remington’s lips couldn’t help but turn upwards at the thought, though he remembered how camera shy Eva could be. Nonetheless, he figured she would no doubt appreciate the era and aesthetic that would be incorporated into the story, and perhaps with a little convincing Eva would happily hop on board?

“I can see what she says,”

#remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #palaye royale #sebastian danzig #emerson barrett #palaye royale imagine #palaye fanart #Palaye Royale fic #palaye positivity #rockband #boy bands #band blog #band imagines #fluffy #original story #original female character #tonight is the night I die

25 notes · View notes

pixiegrl · 3 years

Text

Tell Me Where It Hurts Most

"Ashton shrugs, clearly at a loss for whatever it is that Luke wants but accepting it nevertheless. Luke smiles, closing his eyes a bit. He almost misses the brush of Ashton’s lips on his forehead, the light gazing of a kiss against his skin."

Or Ashton keeps giving Luke forehead kisses when he needs it most and the one time Luke returns the favor.

This is for @lifewasradical because we were talking about forehead kisses and who doesn't like a good forehead kiss with projection onto Luke Hemmings.

On ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123958

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. Luke’s been living at Ashton’s for a few months now, an unspoken argument between them for Luke’s own safety. One too many late nights and bad choices and Luke on the edge of something that meant he couldn’t be left alone. Luke wants to be upset about the fact that the others think he needs to be with someone, has to be taken care of like a child, but instead he just feels relief. He doesn’t trust himself alone, doesn’t trust his own mind, his own body, when all he can think about is how he’s a burden and a disappointment and a waste of space. Luke likes being around another person, having someone to remind him to be a person with routines and habits instead of just existing in some sort of liminal space.

Luke likes living with Ashton. He’s structure and stability, runs his life on a routine that gives some relief to Luke. He knows where he should go and what’s expected of him. He likes building his days around Ashton, waking up and asking Ashton what they’re going to do. Sometimes they go for walks with Petunia, sometimes they write music. Sometimes they get in the car and drive around long enough for the sun to set and that they almost run out of gas. Some nights Ashton is determined to teach Luke to cook, no matter how disastrous it ends up being. Luke’s endeared that no matter how frustrated Ashton gets, he continues to try and teach Luke, answering all of his dumb questions and fixing all his problems like Ashton can. It’s brought Luke’s old crush on Ashton back to the surface, reminded him of exactly what it is he likes about Ashton so much. Luke’s been turned into a starstruck, dreamy eyed lovesick teenager all over again.

Luke finds himself sitting outside on Ashton’s pouch, staring out at the woods behind his house. It’s late at night, dark enough that Luke knows he should be asleep right now, but he can’t bring himself to get up or move. He’d woken up from a dream, stretched thin and panicky and the only thing he could think to do was to go outside and sit out here. It’s windy, but peaceful, giving Luke a chance to just sit and be.

He’s staring off to a distant point when he hears the door open, turns his head to see Ashton sticking his head out.

“Luke?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing out here?” Ashton asks, coming out onto the deck, settling into a chair next to Luke. He’s squinting a little, hair wild and messy around his face. There’s sheet creases on his cheek and Luke is overwhelmed by how soft and in love he feels, staring at Ashton. He has to turn his head away, confession and desire burning at his throat.

“Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. Thought some fresh air might help.”

Ashton hums, staring out at the trees. Luke studies Ashton’s profile, the curve of his nose, the cut of his jaw. Luke blushes, glancing away before Ashton can catch him staring.

“It’s nice out here. Peaceful.”

“I know. That’s why I’m out here. Feel like we never get a chance to just breathe and enjoy the world.”

“Only you would choose to enjoy the world in the dead of night,” Ashton teases. Luke rolls his eyes, glancing over at Ashton, catching the soft smile he’s sending him, eyes full of something.

“It’s when the world is the best,” Luke says. Ashton leans over, interlocking their hands between the chairs, rubbing a thumb over the back of Luke’s hand. Luke hums under his breath, trying to control the excitement he feels from holding hands with Ashton. It feels silly and childish to be so happy about it, but he is. Luke loves physical touching and affirmations and he drinks in any chance he gets to have Ashton give it to him. Luke feels like he’s accomplishing something when Ashton holds his hand or wraps an arm around him, or cuddles next to him on the couch when they watch movies. Ashton isn’t a big fan of physical intimacy and Luke feels special and important when he can get it from Ashton, confirming Ashton’s love for him especially now that he’s been living with him for a while. It relieves some of the anxiety Luke has that he’s a burden to Ashton and that he’s been bothering Ashton living here. But in the quiet intimacy of this evening together, sitting outside in the middle of the night when they’re the only people awake, Luke feels content and happy.

They stay like that for a while until Ashton finally detangles their hands, shifting around like he’s going to stand up.

“Good night Lu,” Ashton mumbles, sleep heavy and half awake. He stands up from his chair.

“Night Ash,” Luke says. He curls in on himself again, holding his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. Luke’s tired and he probably shouldn’t be left alone outside, but he feels better now having talked to Ashton. He feels less spacey and out of body, more sleepy than existential now. He likes it though, out here in the quick darkness, with the wind dancing around him. It’s the first time in years he’s just had the chance to be alone and he wants to savor it.

“You’re not coming in?”

“Wanna stay out here for a little bit.”

Ashton shrugs, clearly at a loss for whatever it is that Luke wants but accepting it nevertheless. Luke smiles, closing his eyes a bit. He almost misses the brush of Ashton’s lips on his forehead, the light gazing of a kiss against his skin. Luke’s breath catches in his throat, eyes flying open to look at Ashton. He freezes, clearly caught off guard by his own action. Luke can see the faint blush staining his cheeks as he straightens up, coughing lightly.

“Well, good night!” Ashton says, a little too high pitched and strung out to go unnoticed. He raises his hand in a half wave, turning on his heel and rushing back into the house. Luke blushes, burying his face into his knees and huffing out a sigh. It doesn’t help that his heart is pounding, chest a flutter at the fact that Ashton’s kissed him. Luke tries to tamp down on the teenage crush that’s flaring up and tells himself it was a slip of Ashton’s need to comfort. That’s all it was. An accident.

***

The second time it happens, Luke’s still surprised by it. It’s been a few weeks since Ashton kissed Luke on the forehead on his porch. They haven’t talked about it, Ashton playing at innocence the next morning, greeting Luke at breakfast like nothing had happened. Luke played along, even if it broke his heart a little, having Ashton pretend that he hadn’t kissed Luke, what it could have possibly meant. Ashton’s been acting like nothing happened that night, but he’s been avoiding getting too close to Luke, putting distance between the two of them whenever they’re in the same room together. Luke doesn’t know what to do to fix things, but Ashton’s the one who kissed him. In Luke’s mind, Ashton needs to be the one to say something.

They’re taking a break from songwriting today, so that Ashton can teach Luke how to cook. It’s a long standing thing in the band that despite everything, Luke still doesn’t know how to cook. Luke figures what’s the point in learning when he’s always had other people around. It shocks Luke to think about the fact that he’s so very rarely without Ashton or the other guys that he doesn’t think about cooking for himself. He’s always had Ashton for that. Ashton tried to teach him once, but got frustrated at Luke’s lack of progress and didn’t trust Luke with anything sharp so the lessons had stopped. Usually now, when Ashton cooks, Luke hovers around the countertop, poking his head in and commenting on things.

Today though, Ashton’s been quieter than usual. Even though they had agreed on Ashton teaching Luke how to cook, Ashton’s been quieter as the day’s gone on, until he finally wandered off to the kitchen. Luke had stayed back, strumming on his guitar, trying to avoid getting into Ashton’s way, until he realized how hungry he was, how late it was. Luke sets his guitar down, making his way into the kitchen.

Ashton’s standing at the stove, stirring something. He’s focused on what’s in front of him, doesn’t glance up when Luke comes in, clearing his throat. Luke sighs heavily, going further into the room and draping himself over the countertop next to the stove. He glances up at Ashton, pouting when Ashton doesn’t look over at him.

“Ash,” Luke whines, dragging out the syllables of his name. Ashton glances over at him, barely acknowledging Luke before he looks back at the food.

“What are you making?” Luke asks, trying again.

“Soup.”

“What kind?”

“Chicken noodle,” he says. Luke perks up. Ashton turns and stops, sighing.

“What?”

“Luke, you’re right in front of the drawer.”

“So?”

“I need that drawer.”

“You haven’t really spoken to me in weeks and this is the first conversation we’re having?” Luke asks, staying firmly planted to his spot in front of the drawer. Ashton sighs again, heavily, getting a hand on Luke’s hip and squeezing. Luke screeches, darting out of Ashton’s touch. It’s a low blow having Ashton use how ticklish Luke is against him. Ashton rummages around in the drawer, grabbing some spoons and a knife.

Luke heaves himself up onto the countertop, sitting on the edge of it and swinging his legs back and forth. Ashton sets the silverware onto the counter, looking over at Luke and sighing again.

“Why do you keep choosing to be right in front of where I need to go?” he asks. Luke juts his chin out, frowning a little.

“How am I supposed to know where you want to go? You don’t tell me anything,” Luke says. Ashton frowns.

“You’re being a brat, you know.”

“Too bad,” Luke says. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“Real fucking mature, Luke. Move so I can finish making us dinner.”

“Talk to me first.”

Ashton sighs heavily, tilting his head back, staring up at the ceiling, “If we can just get through dinner, we can talk.”

“We can?”

“Yes. We can talk about it, okay?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I think getting out would do us both good.”

Luke nods, hoping off the counter and leaning up to grab the bowls. Ashton huffs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Luke sticks his tongue out at Ashton, but holds the bowls out for Ashton to ladle some of the soup into. Luke brings them over to the table, Ashton grabbing glasses and filling them with water.

“You don’t drink enough water,” he says when he catches Luke looking over at him. Luke sticks his tongue out, earning him a laugh.

“Okay Mum.”

“Well, someone needs to look after you,” Ashton says, setting the glasses down on the table next to the bowls. Ashton doubles back, grabbing a plate of bread from the counter that Luke missed before, bringing it back to the table with some butter. He takes a seat across from Luke at the table. They eat in tense silence, Luke quietly taking a piece of bread and ripping it into smaller pieces, popping the pieces into his mouth. He looks up, catches Ashton smiling.

“What?” Luke mumbles, blushing in the face of Ashton’s full attention.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just cute that you still do that with your food. Making it smaller.”

“It’s just a thing I do.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to see you haven’t outgrown some of your habits,” Ashton says. Luke rolls his eyes, but takes it for the peace offering that it is.

“Just because you eat your bread in a whole piece like a heathen,” Luke snips back, smiling to show Ashton he’s only teasing. Ashton huffs, rolls his eyes a little. The tension is relieved a little bit, easier for Luke to eat dinner knowing that Ashton is no longer mad at him, that whatever awkwardness they’ve had after the forehead kiss has been eased. They wash the dishes together after, Ashton talking Luke into washing them since Ashton made dinner. Ashton ends up drying them anyway, humming lightly under this breath as they work together. The domesticity of it strikes Luke, the feeling of closeness, of home, of being with Ashton. Luke hates that it’s the first thing he thinks of, what it would be like to pull Ashton into a kiss, of what it would be like to never leave, to share a life with Ashton. Luke dunks his hands into sink water, scrubbing at a bowl to distract himself.

“So, the kiss,” Ashton says. Luke freezes, glances over at him. Ashton’s staring steadily into the cabinet he has open, hands frozen on the glass he’s putting away.

“The kiss.”

“I didn’t mean to turn it into a thing. Where you couldn’t talk to me.”

“I wasn’t talking to you because I thought you were upset with me.”

“Not with you. Never with you,” Ashton says, turning to Luke with a worried expression on his face. Luke smiles, taking his hands from the sink water and reaching out to Ashton. Ashton crosses the kitchen, pulling Luke into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Luke sighs, melting into it, wrapping his arms around Ashton.

“Just talk to me next time,” Luke whispers.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never. Besides I didn’t mind it.”

“Good. That’s good,” Ashton says, nodding. Luke smiles, letting Ashton go back to drying things, Luke finishing up washing. They watch a movie after, curled up close on the couch, Petunia between them. When it’s time to go to bed, Ashton leans over, pressing a kiss to Luke’s forehead as he wishes him good night. Luke smiles and goes to bed happy, trying not to think about what it would be like to pull Ashton into a soft kiss on the lips instead.

***

It becomes something of a habit after that. Whenever Luke and Ashton get ready to go to bed, Ashton will come over and kiss Luke on the forehead before he goes. Luke’s not sure what sparked the trend of it, why Ashton’s gone from ignoring it to suddenly doing it everyday. Luke also didn’t realize how dependent he’s become on the forehead kisses. If Ashton forgets to come find Luke, Luke seeks him out for one.

It isn’t just before bed either now. Sometimes while they’re doing things around the house, Ashton will lean over and press a kiss to Luke’s forehead. He does it while they’re making breakfast together or when they’re writing music. When Luke laughs and scrunches his nose up during a movie, Ashton leans over and presses a kiss to Luke’s forehead, rendering him speechless in surprise. Luke’s not sure what to make of it, especially considering the fact that Ashton isn’t fond of physical touch the way Luke is. While Luke enjoys expressing his love through hand holding or cuddling against Ashton. It’s odd to have Ashton express his love in such a physical way. Not that Luke’s complaining. Or well, he is, if only because it isn’t helping Luke’s teenage crush on Ashton.

It’s an odd routine they’ve formed, the frequency of their kisses. Even now that they’ve started back on tour, Ashton still finds a way to give Luke kisses every night. He makes a point of doing it once Michael and Calum have left the room, but he still does it.

Luke’s jittery tonight though. They’re a few shows into their 5SOS III tour and Luke is hoping that his nerves would have disappeared by now, but here they are in full force. Luke’s still adjusting to playing again, to being in front of people, especially considering they’re trying out a new sound and look. Luke can’t seem to shake the nerves, bouncing around backstage, unable to get comfortable. Michael and Calum have been playing some video game, shouting back and forth. They’d invited Luke to join, but he’s been unable to concentrate all day, opting out of playing the game by claiming he wants to make sure he knows the words to their songs. It’s only a half lie, anxiety coursing through his body scaring him into thinking that he might forget something.

“Hey,” Ashton says, startling Luke from where he’s been standing in the corner, tapping his foot anxiously, trying to remind himself to breathe.

“Hey,” Luke says, hears the shake in his voice, frowning. Ashton tuts, getting closer to Luke, so that only the two of them can hear.

“Are you okay?”

“Just nervous. I can’t fucking shake them or the anxiety. I feel rusty and silly up there and I just feel. Icky. I feel icky and gross and I hate it.”

Ashton cups Luke’s jaw, forcing Luke to look up at him. Ashton’s wearing a serious expression on his voice, brows furrowed.

“Lu, take a deep breath for me yeah?” He asks, taking a deep breath. Luke mimics him, blowing the air out through his nose. He reaches up, grabbing hold of Ashton’s wrists, closing his eyes as he keeps breathing. It helps a little, being able to focus on Ashton and his body, grounding himself in Ashton’s presence.

“Better?” Ashton asks quietly, when Luke finally stops shaking, breathing even. Luke nods.

“Thanks,” he whispers back, squeezing Ashton’s wrists as he lets go. Ashton smiles, rubbing his thumbs lightly over Luke’s cheeks. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Luke’s forehead and pulling back so quickly, Luke would almost have missed it if not for the fact that he’s used to it by now. Ashton gives Luke a soft smile, letting go of Luke’s face and turning on his heel, heading back over to the couch.

Luke’s mystified by it. While he’s come to expect Ashton’s kisses while they’re at home (and that’s funny isn’t it, that he’s started calling Ashton’s place home), having them in public is relatively new. Even if Michael and Calum are too focused on their game to notice, there’s still the risk that they might see Luke and Ashton. Not that there is anything to see per say, but Luke’s worried that if they see he’ll never hear the end of their teasing over it.

Luke hates to admit that Ashton’s kiss helps him, but it does. He focuses through the show, boosted by the guys and Ashton’s confidence in him, the smile he keeps sending Luke whenever they make eye contact. It helps ground Luke, reminds him that no matter what, he has Ashton and Ashton believes in him.

It isn’t until after the show, when Ashton catches his wrist and pulls him in for another kiss to the forehead backstage, that Luke starts to wonder if maybe there’s something more to the kisses than he thought before.

***

They’re been on tour for a few weeks and Luke’s discovered that even on tour, he and Ashton have fallen into a routine of their kisses since the one backstage. It’s harder now, to do it as spontaneously as when they were living together. There’s a limited number of opportunities for them to be close, nights spent performing and days spent trying to catch up on sleep or hanging around with Michael and Calum on the bus now that they’ve adjusted to being on tour. Luke’s still hesitant about them knowing. Even though he hasn’t directly addressed it with Ashton, he seems to be the same way, making sure that any kisses he gives to Luke are done out of the way of Michael and Calum.

Ashton always seems to always find a way to kiss Luke though. He pulls Luke in for a kiss before and after every show, pressing his lips to Luke’s temple and whispering words of encouragement to him. Before they get in their bunks at night or when they share hotel rooms, Ashton will beckon Luke over to kiss him good night. It makes something flare in Luke’s chest, hope and love and desire, all rolled into one at the idea that he’s the sole focus of Ashton’s attention. It reminds Luke of being a kid again, flushing whenever Ashton would compliment him during band practice. Everytime Luke thinks his crush on Ashton has gone away, it comes back in full force.

Luke wakes up late today, groggy as he opens his eyes, trying to figure out where he is. From the small, cramped space he’s laying in, Luke would have to guess that they’re on the tour bus at least. The slight rocking is soothing for Luke, with his eyes half opened, facing the wall. He thinks it could lull him back to sleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he can hear Michael shouting from the front of the bus, like always. Besides, Luke doesn’t know what time it is and he figures it’s probably late enough that he should get up and eat something and do his warm ups before having to go on stage.

Groaning, Luke rolls over to his back staring up at the ceiling. He can see some of the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the curtain. Luke’s telling himself that he needs to get up and move or something, but he can’t get up the energy to do so.

His phone buzzes next to him. Luke grabs at it, squinting at the screen as it opens the message to see it’s from Ashton, telling him to get up and come drink some water and eat something. Luke huffs, knows Ashton’s right. He locks his phone, tugging back the curtain and climbing out of the bunk.

The guys are all gathered in the longer area, Michael and Calum arguing about whatever movie is currently playing on their laptop. Ashton’s sitting next to them, headphones in, tapping a beat out on the table. He glances up when he sees Luke come into the room, smiling, and pushing a bottle of water in Luke’s direction as he collapses onto the bench next to Ashton. He pops an earbud out, laughing when Luke groans and drops his face onto Ashton’s shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Don’t wanna be up,” Luke grumbles, closing his eyes again. He knows it’s fruitless, considering the angle and how loud the guys are being and the fact that his mouth is dry enough that he should drink some water, but Luke can at least pretend he’d be able to sleep out here.

Ashton huffs out a laugh, smoothing Luke’s curls away from his forehead. Luke sighs happily, rubbing his cheek against Ashton’s shoulder and humming.

“What are you listening to?”

“The Flaming Lips ,” Ashton says, holding the headphone out to Luke. Luke grabs onto it, sticking it into his ear, letting the sound of guitars and drums fill his ears. They’re not Luke’s usual type of music, but he knows that Ashton likes them and Luke will do just about anything as long as Ashton is happy. Luke turns his head, humming along, as he watches Ashton continue to tap out the beat of the song onto the table in front of him.

“You know, you can go back to sleep.”

“Gotta get ready,” Luke mumbles. Michael and Calum have quieted down a bit, the sounds of the movie they’re watching filtering through the speakers.

“You can afford another few minutes to sleep. I’ll wake you up.”

“I gotta eat and get ready,” Luke insists, although he makes no move to get up and do either thing.

“I promise I’ll get you up with enough time for both. I’ll even make you something to eat.”

“You promise?” Luke says. He knows it won’t take much for him to fall back to sleep now, curled into Ashton and already half asleep. He trusts Ashton to get him up in time, to have something for him to eat, to make sure Luke has time to study the words for tonight, to make sure he knows his guitar. Right now, Luke just wants to sleep.

“Cross my heart,” Ashton says. He reaches up, playing with Luke’s curls again.

Luke feels warm and content like this, curled up onto the bench next to Ashton. He knows he should drink some water, get something to eat, start his pre-show routine, but Luke can’t be bothered to do much of anything right now. Instead, he feels his eyes start to close, snuggling in closer to Ashton’s side. The last thing he feels before he drifts off to sleep is Ashton leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple, humming lightly against the skin. Luke smiles, rubbing his cheek against the sleeve of his shirt, happy, as he falls back to sleep pressed against Ash.

***

Luke can’t sleep. He’s been laying on the bed in his hotel room unable to sleep for what feels like ages. He knows, rationally, that it hasn’t been that long that he’s been lying awake, but it feels like longer. Luke’s tired, exhausted after all the shows they’ve played and exceptionally tired considering tonight was their last show. However, Luke’s tired brain doesn’t seem to be cooperating with his body. He can hear Michael snoring in the bed next to him. Luke wishes he could be asleep like that right now.

Luke sees his phone light on the nightstand next to the bed. Luke sighs, rolling over onto his side and reaching for his phone. There’s a text from Ashton that just says “pool?” on the lockscreen. Luke figures he’s not going to sleep anytime, so he might as well go with Ashton. Luke texts Ashton back, sitting up and quietly leaving the bed, grabbing his keycard and shoes as he leaves the room.

Ashton’s already standing in the hallway, in a tshirt and sweats, wearing sandals. He’s glancing down at his phone, smiling when he looks up and sees Luke.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Luke whispers back, following Ashton down the hall to the elevators.

“I couldn’t sleep. I figured if anyone else was up it would be you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I know you, know your patterns. Thought maybe you’d be having a tough time considering tonight was the last night of tour,” Ashton says, pushing the down button on the elevator. Luke chews his bottom lip, worrying the skin there. The elevator digs, opening up for the two of them. They step in, letting the doors close before Luke speaks up.

“It’s just the end of the tour. This was the first time we played those new songs and people liked them.”

“What’s the anxiety then Luke?”

“There were so few songs. What if people don’t like the new album? What if they don’t like what else we have to offer?”

Ashton reaches over, taking Luke’s hand in his, squeezing. Luke takes a deep breath, squeezing back. The elevator digs, letting them know they’ve reached the lobby. Ashton tugs Luke out, following the signs till they reach the pool area. Luke follows Ashton out to the pool. It’s empty, considering it’s so late at night. Ashton takes his hand back, kicking off his shoes and rolling the leg of his sweats up. He sits at the edge, dipping his feet into the pool. Luke sits cross legged at the edge of the pool, dipping his fingers in and running his hand back and forth in the water.

“Luke, of course people will like the new sound. They liked what we showed them this whole tour. There’s no reason to think people won’t like the new things.”

“But what if people like what we did before? What if they don’t want new sounds?”

“Then we don’t need those fans. We want fans who will grow with us. We have to stay true to ourselves and what we want. Music has to fulfill us, sustain us. We can’t lock ourselves into doing something just so people will still like us. It has to fit who we are now,” Ashton says. Luke hums, stopping his movements, letting his hand rest in the water.

“You think so?”

“We’ve worked too hard on growing and developing to stop ourselves now. You saw how excited people were this tour. Imagine how excited they’ll be when we have ever more new stuff,” Ashton says. Luke smiles, resuming his movements.

“When did you get so wise?”

“When you all turned me into the band dad,” Ashton teases. He moves closer to Luke, bumping shoulders with him. Luke smiles, trying to stifle his giggle when Ashton grins even wider, does it again. Luke swats at him, letting his hand fall to rest between them on the pool deck. Ashton rests his hand next to Luke’s, pinkies just barely touching.

They sit outside for a while, until Luke starts to feel his eyelids droop, exhaustion finally winning over his body. He drops his head onto Ashton’s shoulder, sighing deeply.

“Ready to go back in?” Ashton asks quietly. Luke nods, lifting his head up. They stand up, Luke rubbing his hand off on his pants. Ashton slips his shoes back on, the two of them making their way back into the hotel lobby and to the elevator, riding it back up to their floor.

“Thanks for tonight,” Luke says, as the elevator digs on their floor. They step out and make their way down the hallway.

“Anything for you Luke. I’m always here when you need it. You know that.”

“I know but, it’s nice to have you confirm it again. Sometimes I need it.”

“Well, I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to,” Ashton says, smiling. He squeezes Luke’s shoulder. Luke smiles back, heading back Ashton to his hotel room door. He pulls his card out getting ready to swipe it when he realizes something.

“Wait,” Luke says, voice urgent. Ashton stops, hand on the doorknob to his room, turning to look at Luke.

“What?”

“My goodnight kiss,” he says, blushing once the words are out. It seems silly to have said out loud, to admit to Ashton that Luke is expecting a kiss as always. Luke’s a creature of habit and routine, likes when things are structured and in order, eases his anxiety. He didn’t realize how much Ashton’s kisses were built into that routine until just now.

Ashton snorts, smile at the corner of his lips. He beckons Luke over, meeting Luke halfway between the two doors. He reaches out, cupping Luke’s jaw in both hands. He tilts Luke’s head down, standing on tiptoes to press his lips to Luke’s forehead. His lips linger, soft and warm against Luke’s head. Luke’s breath catches in his throat, reaching out to rest his hands on Ashton’s hips, pulling him a little closer.

They stay like that for a few moments, Luke clinging to Ashton, Ashton with his lips still pressed to Luke’s forehead. Finally, Ashton pulls back, smiling softly.

“Good night Lukey. Sleep well.”

“Thanks Ash. You too,” Luke whispers, taking his hands back as Ashton let’s go of him. He takes a step back, stepping back towards his door and scanning his card, giving Ashton a final wave as he goes back into his room.

Quietly, Luke kicks his shoes off, puts his phone on the nightstand with the keycard and slides back into bed and pulls the covers over himself. He burrows under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. Luke falls asleep with a smile on his face and the feeling of Ashton’s lips still pressed to his forehead.

***

Luke’s curled up on his couch, petting Petunia in his lap, when his phone rings. Luke furrows his eyebrows, picking it up and seeing Ashton’s name lighting up the screen. It throws Luke seeing it. They’ve been home from touring for a couple weeks, taking a rest before they start the next one and Luke’s been living at his own home again. It’s odd, being here on his own, without Ashton. He’s gotten so used to being around Ashton all the time, Luke’s not sure what to do alone anymore. Not that he’s totally alone. He’s still seen Ashton during the day, getting lunch with him and taking Petunia to the park and just being together. The only difference is that now, they go back to their own homes at the end of the day. Luke misses getting to see Ashton every night, getting a kiss from him every night. The only upside is that maybe it will help cure his crush (It hasn’t so far. All it’s done is remind Luke how much he needs Ashton).

It’s just late enough at night that Luke was sure Ashton would be sleeping. Luke’s the one with anxiety related insomnia that keeps him up at night. Luke’s the one who can’t sleep at night, who Ashton always has to coax to sleep. Not Ashton, who’s calling Luke in the dead of night. Luke swipes his screen, answers the call.

“Ash?” Luke asks, quietly as the call connects.

“Hey,” Ashton says. His voice is shaky on the other side. Luke can hear the whistle of wind through the phone, the crackle of it over Ashton’s voice.

“Are you driving?”

“Yeah. I...I couldn’t sleep. Too much of something. Decided to take a drive. Was wondering if you wanted to join me.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I should be there in about five minutes or so.”

“Just enough time to fix my hair,” Luke teases. Ashton huffs something that could almost be a laugh if it wasn’t for how hollow he sounds. It makes Luke’s heart aches to hear it. Ashton’s not supposed to sound like that. Luke’s forte is being sad and depressed and emo. Not Ashton’s.

They bid each other goodbye, hanging up their phones. Luke turns off the TV, gently setting Petunia next to him on the couch and standing up, cracking his back. He heads towards the door, grabbing his keys and putting on his sneakers. He leaves the front door, locking it behind him, turning around just in time to see Ashton pulling into the driveway. Luke heads down the driveway, meeting Ashton’s car before he pulls in completely.

“Hey,” Luke says, once he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ashton mumbles back his own greeting, backing the car out of the driveway. The drive in silence for a bit, Luke glancing over at Ashton. He looks anxious, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, left leg bouncing. His hair looks greasy and flat and he looks exhausted. Luke frowns, leaning over and resting his hand on Ashton’s thigh, squeezing. Ashton glances over at him.

“Where to?” Luke asks.

“Beach,” Ashton responds. Luke nods. He knows that the beach is Ashton’s go to for late nights. He took Luke to enough of them when they were living together when Luke was stressed and anxious. Ashton always talks about how much he likes the salt air, the sound of crashing waves, the smooth sand, always talks about how it’s grounding and reminds him of home and peace.

They drive in silence the rest of the way, parking on the street once they get there. Ashton turns off the car, leaving the driver’s seat and grabbing the towel he keeps in his car out of the trunk. Luke leaves the car, kicking his shoes off, and following Ashton down the wooden stairs onto the sand. They set the blanket out onto the sand, sitting down next to each other. Luke pulls his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. He listens to the waves crashing around them, closes his eyes, and loses himself in the feeling of it. He takes a deep breath, opening his eyes, tilting his head to look at Ashton.

Ashton’s staring out to the sea, cross legged and quiet. His eyes look unfocused, lost in whatever it is that’s bothering him. Luke knows Ashton, knows that he won’t talk about it, won’t tell Luke what it is that is bothering him. Luke doesn’t know how to breach Ashton’s walls, how to get him to say something, tell Luke what it is that's bothering him. Luke rests his hand onto the blanket next to Ashton’s, just barely touching Ashton. Ashton still doesn’t respond, lost in whatever torment his own mind is playing on him. Luke frowns, desperately trying to think of something that he can do to help Ashton.

A forehead kiss, his own brain supplies. Luke frowns. Ashton doesn’t usually prefer physical intimacy, but whenever he does it for Luke, it helps him. Maybe it will help Ashton this time.

Luke leans over, pressing his lips to Ashton’s temple. He doesn’t know what compels him to do it in the moment, other than the fact that Luke knows it always brings him comfort whenever Ashton does it for him. Luke doesn’t know what he can do to help Ashton, but he wants Ashton to know that he’s there for him, that Luke will always be there for Ashton the way Ashton is for him.

Luke pulls back, blushing lightly when Ashton lets out a soft sound, sounds like surprise and wonder, turning to face Luke. Their faces are inches apart, Luke going a little cross eyed to look at him, sees the greens and browns in Ashton’s eyes this close, the freckles over the bridge of his nose. They’re so close, Luke wishes he had the courage to close the gap, press his lips to Ashton’s and kiss him for real.

Ashton beats him to it. To Luke’s astonishment, Ashton tilts his head slightly and presses his lips to Luke’s. They’re chapped slightly, but it doesn’t make the kiss any less warm or soft or inviting. Luke’s heart soars as he kisses Ashton back, leaning into it. Luke moves his hand, resting it over Ashton’s on the towel. He hears Ashton sigh, bringing his other hand up and putting it behind Luke’s head, playing with the curls at the base of Luke’s skull, pulling him closer.

“How long?” Ashton asks when they pull apart.

“Since we met.”

“Band practice?”

“The movie theater. You defended me against all those guys making fun of my glasses. My knight in shining armor,” Luke says. Ashton laughs, startled.

“Really? I had terrible hair back then.”

“So did I. Didn’t stop me from liking you. You’re Ashton Irwin. You’re clearly trading down by liking me.”

“Hey, I would say I have good taste. Come on Luke, how could I not like you? You’re charming and wonderful and talented and funny. It was easy, falling in love with you.”

“Love?”

“Of course love. How could it not be?” Ashton whispers, brushing curls from Luke’s face, smiling softly. Luke thinks he might start crying.

“But I’m moody and needy and a bother and I’m...me.”

“You’re you. I like being needed, I like feeling important. You make me feel wonderful and cherished and important. I love you,” Ashton says. Luke can’t say anything around the lump in his throat, pulling Ashton into another soft kiss, hoping it can convey half of the emotions he’s feeling. It must, Ashton pressing back into the kiss, holding Luke close. Luke pulls back, catching his breath, blinking around the tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Come back to mine?” Luke whispers into the space between them. Ashton smiles.

“Can’t live without me?”

“I’m using you for your cooking,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and teasing to relieve some of the anxiety in his chest. Ashton smiles even wider, leaning forward to press another kiss to Luke’s lips, pulling back.

“I’ll gladly be used for my cooking if it means I get to kiss you again.”

“Maybe more than just cooking,” Luke says, blushing at the admission. Ashton laughs, interlacing their fingers.

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Kiss me again?”

Ashton complies, pressing a kiss to Luke’s lips, his nose, his forehead. Luke giggles, eyes scrunched closed. He sighs, moving closer to Ashton, curling up into his side and laying his head on Ashton’s shoulder. He tilts his head back, beckoning Ashton closer, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Ashton smiles softly, pulling back, resting his head on top of Luke’s. Luke sighs, happy and content. Luke could get used to this, getting to have Ashton in all these ways, getting to love Ashton forever and ever.

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #its a 5+1 fic #for 5 forehead kisses for luke and one for ashton #its a little sad but mostly good and soft #my writing

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samsexualdeancurious · 4 years

Text

Man Cold

Pairing: Implied but not explicit Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,559

Summary: Bucky has a cold.

Warnings: Fluff, Bucky being a bit of a whiny brat, sick!Bucky.

Written for @saxxxology for her December fic. Betaed by me. The soup recipe described in this fic is one I use regularly. It's from the Lion House Soups and Stews book and is simple but delicious.

---

“You look like shit,” Sam proclaims as soon as Bucky enters the common room.

Normally you would just write a comment like that off as Sam being Sam but today you have to agree. Bucky looks awful. He’s leaning against the corner of the wall, rubbing at his red nose with the back of one hand. His eyes are equally red. As you watch, he shivers and winces.

“Feel like shit,” he grumbles, stumbling to a chair. His voice is barely a whisper and you suspect immediately that he has a sore throat. His cough confirms that suspicion.

“I’ll make you some tea,” you tell him, jumping to your feet. “Peppermint, I think. With a little honey.”

“Don’t want tea,” Bucky whines.

“Too bad. I’m making tea and you’re going to drink it. It’ll be good for your throat.”

Bucky pouts but coughs again instead of arguing. You bustle around the kitchen, filling the kettle with water and putting it on the stove. It’s whistling within minutes and you’re pouring hot water over the teabag in Bucky’s favorite mug. You let is steep before adding some honey and mixing it in.

“Drink this,” you instruct, returning to the table to give Bucky the mug.

He makes a face but obeys, taking a tentative sip. He seems to find it passable because he takes a second, much larger sip.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, looking up at you with the most pathetic expression you’ve ever seen on a hundred-year-old man.

You roll your eyes and pat his head. “You have a cold.”

“How the hell does a super-soldier catch a cold?” Sam wonders out loud as he watches you chop the veggies you need for a mirepoix - onions, carrots, and celery.

You shrug, scraping the veggies into a preheated pot. “Dunno. I just figured his immune system works like ours, just faster? Maybe it’s just a strain that’s taking his body longer to clear out.”

Sam shakes his head. “When do you think the last time he had a cold was?”

“Probably before the war.” You stir the veggies with a wooden spoon, mixing them together and spreading them evenly across the bottom of the pan. You can already smell the fragrant notes you’re looking for. “I can’t imagine he caught anything during his time with Hydra. If he does, he probably doesn’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

You spin around to shake the spoon at Bucky where he’s swaying in the doorway, looking absolutely exhausted. “What are you doing up? Get back to bed.”

“I don’t want to lie in bed,” he complains.

You roll your eyes and toss the spoon to Sam. “Keep an eye on that mirepoix. Don’t let it brown.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a salute as you cross the room to grab Bucky’s wrist.

“Y/N,” Bucky whines, going easily when you tug him back down the hall to his room. “I don’t want to be in bed.”

“You need to lie down and rest,” you say, stopping in front of his door.

“Do I have to do that in bed?” he’s pouting now, doing his best to pull on your heartstrings.

“It’s that or contaminate the whole couch and get everyone else sick.”

He shakes his head. “But Nat probably already got everyone sick.”

“No, she just got you sick.” You poke his arm and he pouts harder, rubbing at the spot. “At least try and contain yourself to your room until you’re not contagious anymore.”

“How long will that be?” he asks as you open the door and nudge him inside. His bed is a mess, blankets and pillows piled up in a sort-of nest that he goes easily into when you direct him.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’ve never seen a super-soldier with a cold before. It could be a day, it could be a week. We’ll just have to wait it out.”

Bucky groans and rolls over to bury his face in a pillow. “Then just leave me here to die.”

You roll your eyes - you seem to be doing that a lot today - and pull one of the blankets out of the tangle to cover him with. “You lay here. I’m making you chicken noodle soup.”

He turns onto his side to look up at you with hopeful eyes. “You are? Promise?”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s on the stove right now being watched over by Sam.”

Bucky waves her off. “Better go rescue it then. I wouldn’t trust Sam to microwave a hotdog.”

You laugh. “I’ll have you know that Sam is a very good cook. Learned from his momma.”

Bucky grumbles and you laugh again.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you don’t get any soup unless you stay here and rest.”

He waves you off and tugs the blanket up over his head.

You shake your head and flick off the light before closing the door. When you return to the kitchen, it’s to find Sam dutifully stirring the pot of veggies.

“Smells really good,” he observes, returning the spoon to you.

It really is. One of the surefire ways to let everyone know you’re cooking is to put onions in a pot. You give the veggies a gentle stir, noting that the onions are starting to get translucent.

The rest of the soup-making process is easy - dice the chicken and add it to the pot with some seasonings, add broth once the chicken is cooked, add noodles once the broth is boiling. Simple, classic.

“That smells amazing,” Steve observes, coming into the kitchen fresh from a run.

“Bucky has first dibs,” you say before he can even ask for a bowl.

“Why Bucky?” He glances around the room looking for his friend and frowns when he doesn’t see him.

“Because he has a cold,” you explain.

Steve stares. “Bucky has a cold?”

“Sounds ridiculous, I know,” Sam pipes up from where he’s planted himself on the couch with a book. “But you should see him. He looks miserable. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.”

Steve is looking at you, clearly searching for some kind of explanation. “He’s sick?”

“Just a cold,” you assure Steve. “Runny nose, itchy eyes, sore throat, a bit of a fever, the whole works. He’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t even know we could catch colds,” Steve says, voice quiet. “Should I go check on him?”

“He’s sleeping. Plus, we don’t want you catching a cold, too.” You point your spoon at him. “One whiny, miserable, overgrown man child is more than enough for me.”

Steve winces but nods. “Can I have a little soup?” he asks, leaning over to peek into the pot and take a deep breath of the warm, homey scent. It’s a big pot and a lot of soup - Bucky and Steve have similar metabolisms - so you know there’s going to be plenty in the batch.

“After your shower,” you instruct, waving him off. “You reek.”

“I do?” He yanks you in for a one-armed hug, chuckling when you screech and shove him away.

You whack him in the chest with one hand, waving the spoon in his face. “Asshole.”

Steve just grins and heads off toward his room.

The soup is ready soon and you grab the biggest mug in the cupboard - one Clint brought from home and left. It’s a low, wide design that reads “Cup of Happy” in colorful letters. You fill it as full as you dare with soup, get a spoon from the drawer, and make your way down the hall to Bucky’s room.

“Buck?” you call, knocking softly on the door.

There’s some rustling around and then a slightly muffled “come in.”

You manage to push the door open without spilling the soup or dropping the spoon. The room is dark and you can barely make out a large lump under the blankets that you assume is Bucky.

Guiding yourself by the small slivers of light slipping through the blinds, you pick your way over to the bedside table and set the bowl down.

“Bucky,” you murmur, reaching out to rub his shoulder through the blanket. “I brought you soup.”

He makes a pathetic sound and rolls to face you. He looks truly miserable as your eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Sit up and eat,” you instruct. “C’mon, up you go.”

Somehow you manage to get him sitting upright against the headboard despite him complaining the whole way.

“If I didn’t know better I would say you were dying,” you scold lightly, handing him the soup and spoon. “I want you to eat that whole thing. You need the nutrients and the salt will soothe your throat. Everything’s cut pretty small so it should be easy to swallow. I’m going to get you a glass of water.”

“Water tastes funny,” he says sadly, poking at a noodle with his spoon.

“You still need to drink it. It’s important to stay hydrated. The broth will help but only so much. Now eat. I want that bowl empty.”

Bucky sighs but takes a little sip of broth as you head for the door. When you glance back, you see him carefully blowing on a full spoon. His eyes flick over to you, though, and he immediately deepens his frown. You smile and shake your head.

---

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#bucky x reader #marvel fanfic #my writing

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wakandascrystal · 5 years

Text

ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ

Summary: Erik never lets you in. You try to be patient but it becomes too late when you fall for him.

Angst and smut themes

…….

It was a Wednesday evening and Erik just got home. The apartment smelled like your cooking and he loved it. He was getting out of his work clothes upstairs and getting ready for dinner.

“What you got cooking ?“ He hugged you from the back; engulfing your body and placing a light kiss on your neck.

“I’m making chicken curry“ You scoped up a bit of the soup and turned to feed him.

“Taste.“ He opened his mouth and accepted the warm and spicy contents. He gave you another kiss confirming your amazing cooking skills.

“You stay put your foot in these meals your cooking.“

“What can I say my mom raised a bad bitch.“ You turned the stove off and dished up two servings. Erik’s plate was much larger than yours. The man was a true eater. He could eat to full Macdonald’s meal and still be ready for more. His metabolism was crazy and your job was to keep it on its toes.

After dinner, you watched some tv. He sat next to you under a warm blanket as you watched an episode of a Telenovela. He loved that shit. Although he would never admit it to his boys. He was a die-hard fan.

“Look at Envo, playing Isabella. He knows that bitch don’t deserve that type of treatment. The girl just found out her half-sister and mother plotted to take out her pops. Now he fucks her best friends….“ He took a sip of his bottled water “…I don’t care how thick that bitch is man..” He whispered that last part then turned to you. You were staring into space. Your eyes fixed on nothing. You looked deep in thought.

“Baby you listening?“ You snapped out of your trance when he pulled you closer to him.

“….mmh..yeah…yeah the …friend and sister.“ Your left eye twitched. He knew you were lying.

He smacked his lips.

“You want to try that again.“

“I’m sorry E. I’m just really drained. I think I should go lay down“

“Okay then let’s go sleep them..“

“No! Stay and watch this till it ends I don’t want to interrupt you.“ You pleaded

“Nah. It won’t be any fun watching it without you.“

And you went to bed. Your body close to his until your lids closed shut.

………………………………………

“I bet you 10k that you won’t grow your hair out. Don’t lie to yourself. You know damn well that Corporation you work at won’t let a nigga come in with nigga’s hair. Correct me if I’m wrong?“

“Look at him. He knows you right“ Erik said?

“Well, Mr my brother is a king….“

“It’s my cousin..“ Erik corrected.

That was Kookie and Titi - Erik’s childhood friends. They had come over for a little get together you and Erik were hosting. They were not alone. They had brought over their girlfriends or “situations”…at this point, you didn’t know. Their names were Kiara and Adriana, nevertheless, they were sweet girls and you welcomed them with open arms. They helped with food preparation and the making of the drinks and you started to fall in love with them.

“So you met Kookie where… Adriana ?“ You asked again with a playful tone. yall were away from the guys so you could gossip properly.

“He works with my father. I took one look at that nigga and I heard God speak to me-“ Kiara took a deep dramatic sigh “Adriana, here we go again“

“What? she did!“ Adriana said.

“She ?“ You questioned

“Yes honey God is a black woman and when I saw that 6-foot nigga in a clean-cut black suit …walking out of a meeting with my dad …I felt my walls-”

Kiana stops her from carrying on.

“That’s it! If we don’t change the subject I’m going to need something stronger than this.“ She tapped her wine glass. You let out a light laugh

“What about you how did you met Erik.“ You weren’t expecting them to ask so it caught you off guard.

“Oh …ah Yeah Erik and I met at University…but briefly. We would pass each other in the halls or whatever. Then we graduated and then next thing I heard was he was drafted, he moved up and joined some super-secret parts of the military that he can’t even tell me about to this day.- “

“Like Seal team 6 and shit “ Adriana probed

“- I’m not sure but we never even spoken to each other at that point…..to put it lightly I wasn’t exactly Eriks type.- “

“So it was one-sided. You liked him and he didn’t like you.“ Kiana added

“Well at the time yeah. Every girl on campus loved him but I heard he had a girl and she was killed by some craze White South African guy and some other super crazy shit happened in Africa ….that I still might not believe happened but we met again when he and his cousin made an outreach program centre. They reached out to me to be the resident phycologist. I talk to the kids there …just work with them. “ You hoped that mess of a story made sense to them. They didn’t care about the other stuff they just cared that you and Erik were close stranges and now you were dating.

“Yeah it’s crazy ..we talk about that all the time“

“aww, its like fate was there the whole time.“ Adriana said and Kiana cringed a bit.

later that night all 6 of you sat around the living room drinking and talking. yall talked about your love life and the people yall hated. Yall talked about the current political events and Normani’s video but you could keep eye contact with Erik when the conversation shifted to sex.

You were going through something you couldn’t tell Erik cause you were scared it would insult him. You went cumming and you knew it had nothing to do with Erik cause even alone you cumming.

It was frustrating you and you knew exactly why you weren’t finishing. You were starting to fall in love with him and you were scared.

You didn’t Know him probably. You knew a little about his past and he wasn’t really giving with the information you craved. He was very friendly and supportive but in order to have a life with him, you needed to know more about him. That was too late you had fallen…hard.

You first noticed when a bank teller was flirting with Erik and you cut her off. For those few minutes, you told her to be professional and focus on her job and proceed to kiss Erik on the cheek. Erik was surprised throughout the exchange. He didn’t know you had it in you. It was one of the most sexiest things he’s ever seen you do. He bit his lip as he saw the passion in your eyes. He planned on giving you the best dick when you got home. Oh, it was good already. The tears roll down the side of your face as he pounded you. He kept reminding you why he was fucking between his heavy breaths.

“you told ..that bitch to stop ….. playing with your man huh?” Erik’s sweat rolled down his marked body.

“you don’t want to share this dick…huh…it’s all your and you’re taking it so well….yes this is your baby …take this dick..”

His words were turning you on but when it was time for your climax you heart just sunk. It was a strange emotion. You felt scared and sad but it lasted for a few seconds then Erik fall on you.

“baby, did you cum?” He moaned out

You didn’t know what to say. You had never not cum with Erik ..he knew your body well.

“yes… I did.” You lied. You were glad he couldn’t see your twitching eye. You let him sleep on you, between your legs. Usually, you didn’t because he was heavy but you thought it was a way to apologize for lying to him. You gently rubbed his back.

And after that night it has been the same until now. Erik called out to you asking if you alright. You lied

“Me? Yes. I’m good.” Your eye twitched.

That worried him.

“I have said this before and I’ll say it again !!! Length doesn’t matter!” Adriana said with her forth wine glass in the air.

Erik and titi let out laughs. They hit it over as they rolled laughing.

“You just saying that cause of what kookie got packing …don’t let him fool you.”

Kookie quickly came to his defence.

“man fuck y'all. Except for you baby”, he pointed to Adriana.

“ My dick is above average. It gets the job done. Period! Some of y'all with the long-ass dicks be leaving y'all shorties unsatisfied…y'all monster dicks be leaving her having to take care of her own shit when you knocked out in the bed.”

Once the sentences registered in your head. You involuntarily choked on your wine. It sprung straight onto your white carpet y'all were sitting on, in the living room. You coughed out wine that had made its way down your body.

Everyone rushed to help except Erik. Adriana took the glass from you while Titi sat you up.

“Girl, you good?”

You sat up while you told him you were fine.

“I’ll be in the bathroom to clean myself up.” You stood up and left

Erik’s jaw locked as he quickly follows behind you.

He opened the bathroom door after you just closed it.

“Jesus! Erik dont scare me like that.” You took off your top that was stained by the wine. Just in your bra, Erik stared you down.

“you want to tell me what’s got you acting like this .”

“Erik what are you talking about…can you get me the washing powder in there.”

He slowly reached for the cupboard and took out the washing powder.

“thank you.” You said sarcastically

“Are you pregnant?” Erik asked

“No, I’m not pregnant Erik. Are you high? You think I would drink wine if I was carrying a child.” You asked playfully

He quickly kissed his lips.

“So why you acting like there’s something I need to know…that you don’t want me too.”

“Erik.. are you done with your…little psychoanalysis you throwing on me!“ You started to get irritated you wanted him to leave you alone so you could process your own feelings.

“Are you done lying to me.-“ You turned to him slowly

“Lying!! I’m lying to you!! Oh, I want to hear this!“ you folded your arms and leaned against the working washing machine. The anger came from nowhere but it was very evident and Erik noticed it.

“Yeah you acting strange ass fuck and I-“ You cut him off

“And you what Erik!“ You were pretty sure your guests knew by now that there was a fight in the bathroom.

“What makes you think you have the right to fucking question me when I know nothing about you.“ The penny finally drops for Erik. He knew there was no way you could be this angry for no reason. His secrecy was finally catching up with him. He didn’t know it but it was messing you up. Driving you crazy.

“….Nothing to say. Mr I don’t like talking about my past. Mr Are you writing a book about me. Erik, you disappear for days or weeks at a time, and come back acting like it’s no big deal …..and when I ask you where the hell did go for so long….you always spin it and somehow blame me.“

“Yoh..Y/N …look chill out.“

“I can’t!! I want to But I fucken can’t because I’m in love with your thick-headed ass. I have reached a point where being without you would be a problem. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT ERIK! THE THOUGHT OF BEING WITHOUT YOU BRINGS PAIN AND UNSPEAKABLE SORROW TO MY HEART…….yet I know nothing about you…we might as well be strangers. To be honest I don’t even know what we are. ”

He stood still not saying a word.

“This shit has been affecting me like crazy. My hormones are all over the place. It’s been months since I could…could cum. It’s all I think about. Do get me wrong. Your cute and fun to have around but that’s not what I need to form a partner. “

“….since the second we started hooking up….you never let me in and I was cool with that back then because …oh you know…you can’t trust these female right…..I’ve been patient Erik….and stupid it seems……“ He stood opposite. He was defeated and he didn’t know what to say. He had no idea how you felt.

“…While you out here …figuring shit out and building this wall you have up that I have to work so hard to climb over to reach you ….ill go lay down. I’m tired Erik.”

He knew the lost part didn’t mean you were tired for having a long day…he knew that maybe it was time he let you in and stopped keeping you at arm’s length.

You left him alone in the bathroom, heading upstairs. You heard a lot of shuffling from the living room but you honestly didn’t care if they were listing or not. You were heartbroken. Nothing mattered.

“Ay Erik …my man. We out. We see you and your girl got things to talk about…so will be out of your hair” Titi shouted before they rushed out the front door.

Back in your shared bedroom you took your PJs, phone and night creams and heading for the guest room. There was no way you could sleep with Erik tonight. You were mad and disappointed. All that time you had wasted. Lost investment. You needed time alone. Time to think about your next step. Maybe moving out and starting fresh. It would be hard but what else can you do. It dawned on you that you spent more time at his house then she did. That’s why you locked the door. Just for tonight, you wanted to sit in your sorrow.

#erik #erik x reader #erik imagine #Erik Killmonger #black panther killmonger #Erik killmonger x Reader #erik x blackreader #erik killmonger fic

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wlw-imagines-blog · 5 years

Text

Abandonment, Enthroned {Part 2} (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Part 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood, alcohol,

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Apocalypse au, No powers au, angst, hurt, whump, comfort, enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: Y/N tries to make sense of the stranger sleeping in her bed, creating some mysteries that need explanations. Tension in the house rise and fall as Wanda and Y/N try to find harmony despite a tumultuous meeting.

You woke up with a headache and a bad taste in your mouth. The sun had set, and darkness had settled over the estate. Your hand flailed, catching the analogue clock on the dresser.

1:24 am.

“Fuck,” you hissed, jumping up and immediately regretting it. Your head pounded, forcing your stomach to flip.

Ignoring the discomfort, you left the room and sped through the evening routine. You ran out the front door, lantern in one hand, ring of keys in the other, both shaking madly as you sprinted to the barn. You locked the barn’s padlock, making sure Goat was safe with enough water and hay for the night. Next was the greenhouse locks that took almost no time.

Standing out in the dark was terrifying. Every rustle and noise made your heart leap into your throat, and the hairs stand up on your neck.

You made it back to the house, locking the front gate behind you.

The ground floor windows had to be shut, the interior metal shutters were drawn and locked. The front, back, and side doors were then locked and barred. All lights were turned off or extinguished, then the generator was shut off.

You let yourself breathe easier. The house was as secure as possible.

The bathroom was still a fucking mess. You set to work, lighting two oil lamps, taking lemon and vinegar to scrub down the tiles until the blood was mostly gone before tackling the red soup of towels and clothes in the bathtub. It was an hour before Wanda’s clothes were clean, and the towels were permanently tinged pink. You lost count how many times you drained and refilled the tub. On the third re-fill, you prayed to god that the well still had enough water until the next rain fall.

You hand-rung out Wanda’s clothes, fingers aching by the time you finished her jacket.

Just as you dropped the coat into the basket of garments, something metallic caught your eyes.

Pinned to the front of the jacket, just above the right breast, was a name tag.

Maximoff. You looked at it, storing away that information. Was that Wanda’s last name?

The girl in the other room was a mystery. She wore dog tags and old army gear with a scratched out insignia. Had she been a part of the militia? Were you housing a fugitive? She didn’t fight like a soldier, and you doubted that a member of the New Alliance militia would not have shot you on sight. You shook the thought from your head. Where did this woman come from.

You took the towels to the kitchen to dry, eyes landing on the bag she had dropped by the door. Staring at it for a few seconds, you slowly placed the basket on the table, and made your way to the satchel. Your curiosity was piqued, but the threat of danger lingered in your belly alongside the whiskey.

It was heavy in your hands, and guilt swelled as you opened the bag. Your mouth was dry as you sat at the kitchen table, slowly removing the contents one by one.

A compact mirror, a tin of pills, a smaller hunting knife, band aids, matches, and a thick, leather bound journal.

There was nothing in here that could’ve helped Wanda survive in the wilderness. You were shocked she had even made it for this long. Of all the items, the journal intrigued you the most. What stopped you was the string tied around the book. It was tied up with a complicated knot, one that you would be able to re-tie if undone.

You sighed. Wanda would be angry as all hell if she knew you were rifling through her stuff. Sliding everything back into their original positions, saving the journal for last. Your fingers brushed against something at the bottom of the bag. You pulled out a small, folded photograph.

Your hands trembled as you unfolded the paper.

The picture was of two teenagers, a boy and a girl with identical smiles. You immediately identified the girl as Wanda. Her hair was much darker in the photo, and her face had less lines and dark circles. She was care free and happy. The young man had his arm around Wanda, who was pretending to look exasperated with him. The young man had dyed blonde hair, and the same blue eyes as Wanda. He wore a military uniform, laughing and smiling at the camera.

You flipped the photo.

Pietro and Wanda, October 2015, was written in black ink.

Was this her brother? Your turned it over to look at the image once more. They had the same eyes, mouth, and skin tone. A grimace flickered on your lips. This photo had been taken five months before the Protection of the Constitute was set into motion.

Slipping the photo back into the bag, you took the laundry upstairs, ponder Wanda and her past.

You passed your room where Wanda was sleeping. You were surprised to hear her gentle snores through the door. You guessed the Advils and Jameson worked. It calmed you to know that her pain was somewhat manageable. What unnerved you was the the idea of a stranger sleeping in your bed.

After laying out the towels, you drank water, trying to push the headache down. It was well past two in the morning by the time you settled back into the guest room’s bed, and well past three in the morning when you finally well asleep.

***

Wanda was sitting up when you opened the door. It was just after nine when you went to check on her, making sure that she had not died at some point in the night. Her eyes were collecting information about everything in the room; the desk in the corner, cluttered with papers, the dusty book shelf that hadn’t been visited in months, the various articles of clothing that was strewn about the room. You felt anxious, as though Wanda was slowly combing through everything, and finding out more and more. Her fingers absently played with the silver dog tags.

“How are you doing?” You carefully probed.

“It fucking hurts,” she snarled, not looking at you in the eye.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything to drink? Or eat?”

“No.”

“You haven’t eaten anything since you’ve been here, and I don’t count whiskey as a drink.”

“Whatever, I’m fine.”

‘Starving yourself won’t help the wound heal.”

She said nothing to that, and you turned around to leave.

“Y/n.” You stopped.

Wanda cleared her throat. “I am a little thirsty. Something to eat would be nice.”

You fought down a small smile. “Give me a few minutes.”

While heating up a can of chicken and vegetable soup, you prepared a pot of black tea.

“It should help with inflammation,” you explained to Wanda as you placed the tray in front of her. “Careful, the soup is really hot.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

You pulled desk chair up next to the bed. ‘Listen, I know this situation is… not ideal. But I want to help you, Wanda. You can stay for as long as you need to get better, with only three conditions; one, don’t try to kill me. Two, do not steal from me. Anything you need, you just have to ask, and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

Wanda nodded, dragging her spoon around the bowl.

“Third, any rooms with locked doors are off limits. Don’t try to get into those rooms.”

She squinted. “is this the part where I find out you’re a serial killer?”

“Yup,” you hummed, standing up. “It was only a matter of time.”

Wanda sipped her tea and rolled her eyes.

“I meant what I said last night, Wanda,” You turned to leave the room. “I want to help you as much as possible.” you thought about the photograph in her bag. Everyone is struggling these days.”

Wanda stared into her soup as you closed the door behind you.

For the next four days, you brought Wanda meals in the morning, afternoon, and evening. When you were not in the barn or in the fields, you were helping Wanda into the shower, and into clean clothes.

The cut was only a few centimeters wide and even fewer deep, but still hindered Wanda’s mobility greatly. A film of sweat would cover her face whenever you helped her to the master bathroom. Her lips would grow thin, like she was gritting her teeth through the pain.

You changed the bandages everyday, watching the reserve rolls of gauze slowly dwindle.

On the fifth day, you were in the kitchen when you heard the stairs creak.

“What the fuck are you doing up?” You asked Wanda harshly, watching her descend the staircase. Her hands gripped the banister so tightly, her knuckles were white.

“I hate staying in bed all day,” She said, beads of sweat forming on her brow.

You rounded the corner, meeting her at the foyer. Your arms automatically slipped under her shoulders, careful not to touch the bandage. “You’re not well enough to be moving around. I’m getting your ass back into bed.”

“I’m not a fucking sick child,” Wanda snapped, pulling away from you. Her balance had not returned, and she teetered. “I was stabbed, not given polio.”

Shaking your head, you turned and went back to the kitchen. You begrudgingly prepared a light breakfast of bread and jam with an apples and a few grapes for her.

Wanda slowly seated herself at the kitchen table, grimacing at the pain. As you dropped the plate in front of her, she shot you a quizzical look. “Thank you, y/n.”

“Coffee or tea?” you ignored the gratitude.

She rolled her eyes. “Coffee. two sugars, no cream.”

As you set the kettle on the stove, Wanda ate in a surprisingly quiet fashion. Her eyes moved around the kitchen to the doorway that led to the living room, then back to the plate in front of her.

“How do you live here?”

Ah, the silence was too good to be true. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” she waved a hand eloquently. “How have you survived this long?”

“I grow everything here. There’s an orchid, a vineyard, and a corn and wheat field. I make due.”

There were three more tins of instant coffee if you included the one in your hand, and two more bags of sugar in the cellar.

You made a mental note to to go into town in a few weeks; after Wanda left.

“What about meat? or grain? Do you have any cows?” She inquired, fingers pinching the corner of her bread.

You blinked. Wanda was so strange; one second she was volatile, the next she was curious and asking question after question.

“I hunt whatever’s in the forest, but there isn’t much. I have a mortar and pestle to make flour from the grain and corn.” You stirred her coffee and placed it in front of her.

Wanda played with the teaspoon. “And everything else?”

“There’s an abandoned town about three miles south of here. When you’re completely healed up, and on your way, I suggest you go there.” Your heart swooped suddenly. Where you being too forth coming with information?

“What do you mean?”

You seated yourself across from Wanda, reminding yourself to play it smart. “This house is something of a rest stop for travelers, Wanda. More people than you would think often come this way, tired, hungry, and in need of help. I do what I can to make living a bit easier.”

“You have a pretty nice place here,” she said, and you felt suspicion flicker. “Hasn’t anyone tried to rob you?”

You tilted your head, forcing your voice to stay light. “They have. They’ve failed.”

“What if I tried to rob you?” The smile on her face was dangerous.

You returned her look. “Then I’ll stab you again, Wanda.” You stood up, looking down at her. “And the next time, I’ll let you bleed out.”

You went and pulled out the bottle of Advil, counting six in the bottle before shaking out two and placing them in front of Wanda. There was no need to tell her that you did not have the heart to stab anyone ever again, and that last night you had totally acted on instinct.

Sometimes acting tough was far more efficient than actually being tough.

You put the pills on the table. “Is that it?”

“Probably not.” She was back to her usual sullen demeanor. She took the pills with her coffee. “Where’s my bag?”

You retrieved the satchel from the living room, breath tight in your chest. “Your clothes still need to dry, but I managed to get most of the blood out.”

Wanda rooted through her bag, seemingly satisfied when she found everything in its place.

Was this the right time to ask her about her past? You watched her subconsciously run a hand over her hip where the cut was. Maybe not now.

You bit you lip before speaking. “Since you’re well enough to walk, I’m not going to bring your meals to the room. You have to come to me.”

Despite your tone, she smiled. “Aye Aye, Captain.”

You forced yourself to ignore the way her lips, chapped and grey, created dimples when she smiled. The image of her and that boy in the picture flickered in you mind, and you bit back the question that threatened to spill.

“But don’t try and impress me. If it hurts, go lie down and take a break,” You cleared your throat, pulling on your jacket and boots. “I don’t want those stitches to rip.”

“Where are you going?” Wanda asked, dusting off her hands.

You unlocked the kitchen’s side door. “I have a farm I need to attend to, a goat to feed, and apples to pick. I’ll be back by lunch.”

Wanda watched the screen door slap shut as you left, stirring her coffee.

***

Part 3, found here;

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #apocalypse au #no powers au #hurt #comfort #whump #enemies to friends to lovers

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maedarakat · 4 years

Text

Covered in Mud

——

The sky had been threatening to spill all day, all gray clouds offset by deep threatening purples. Nobody could predict when it would happen, but when it did, the clouds seemed to crack open like an egg, coating the Edge in a sudden shower of hailstones, rain, wild gusts of wind and crackling peals of thunder.

It was a truly impressive act of Thor, Astrid thought, drinking from her mug under the Clubhouse roof she had mended and patched herself before the rain season came. Not a drop so far. She was feeling a little smug, especially because Hiccup had waved away all her reminders to fix his own roof in a timely manner and was now grumpily carrying in an armload of drenched blueprints, notebooks and maps to dry out in front of the fire.

Toothless sneezed as he followed after, ears flat and drenched to his skin. More wet scrolls were sticking out of the saddle bags and Astrid came over to help unload them and spread them out.

“No, no, I got this,” Hiccup sighed. “I brought it on myself, you were right. I should have fixed the roof.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Astrid said.

“You didn’t have to. I can tell you’re dying to say ‘I told you so’ because that’s the expression you always make when you’re about to.” Hiccup’s tone was playful but also not, and Astrid tried her best to navigate the tricky waters of what he really meant to say.

Passive-aggressiveness, Ruff had supplied once, when both of them were in their cups and Astrid had found herself venting. It was nice to have a word to it, but what an oddly perfect word for every situation with Hiccup she seemed to find herself in lately.

Right now he either wanted her to reassure him and apologize, or go back to her warm drink and leave him alone. Neither option seemed ideal, but she was saved from the guesswork by a frustrated groan from Snotlout who tossed some dry wood and a pile of bundled kindling out of his cloak onto the floor.

Lout was wet, but a few hours worth of firewood had been rescued thanks to his quick thinking and the sacrifice of his cloak. Grumbling, he started stacking it into a pile. Astrid gladly went to help with that chore instead, and Hiccup huffed. He’d wanted her to choose the first option apparently, but it was no good to backtrack now - no matter what she did, it would become an argument later that everyone would pretend they hadn’t heard. She didn’t engage, playing dumb to his irritated glances and once the wood was stacked, she checked on the stew.

He was having trouble keeping one of the maps from rolling back up instead of laying flat. Astrid knew better than to suggest getting small stones from the potted flowers outside to weigh down the corners. It would be insulting somehow.

“What did you make for dinner?” Hiccup asked, just giving up and holding down the corners with his hands. He was apparently going to stay like that for a while.

Astrid sighed inwardly. “Yak stew.” Hiccup didn’t acknowledge the answer or look up at her, seemingly deep in thought and scowling.

“I’m tired of yak. When can we have boar or venison again?” Snotlout butted in and really, honestly, bless him. Astrid hadn’t wanted to hear Hiccup’s attempts to dodge out of eating any. He never seemed to be hungry on days when it was her turn to cook.

“When the rains let up, we can go hunting. But yak meat is what we have the most of.”

“Who first decided to eat a yak anyway?” Ruff asked, walking in with Fishlegs. “They’re like giant adorable sheepdogs with horns. That you can practice braiding on. They just stand there and let you. What ‘honorable viking’ decided to ‘hunt’ that?”

“Well, sometimes during famines when there’s not a lot of food to hunt -“ Fishlegs started, until Ruffnut gave him a withering look. “Oh you weren’t really asking, never mind.”

He was carrying a Maces and Talons board and the rule book. It had become necessary to have the rule book present; while playing, the twins liked to bend and tweak the boundaries of every single one. Astrid had to admit, it was thrilling to watch. Hiccup might even forget his bad mood and have a good time.

The only one missing now was Tuff.

When dinner was ready, and had been roasted thoroughly as well as stewed, Tuff had still not shown up.

Astrid left it up to the others to serve themselves and carried a covered bowl for Tuff toward his hut. It wasn’t like him to be late for dinner unless he was dramatically late. She relaxed when she saw a candle on in his window and the chimney putting out smoke.

“Hey, Tuff. Get attacked by a wolf or something?” Astrid asked automatically when he opened the door. She’d said it carelessly, an inside joke between all of them, but Tuff’s appearance took her aback.

He was a wall of mud with eyes and stiffening braids. He currently held a peeping ball of damp fluff in a towel draped over his hand - apparently trying to dry off the chicks before seeing to himself.

The storm had caught everyone at least a little off guard but ... “Why are you covered in mud?” Astrid asked.

If Tuff could have looked any angrier, the mud surely would have baked and fallen off him in crisp pieces.

“Because that ... that absolute waste of feathers-“ he started, absolutely fuming.

“Peep,” the chick helpfully interrupted.

“Excuse me - because your father,” Tuff said instead to the chick, voice dripping with scorn. “Would not come inside when he was directed to before the storm hit, oh no - Fustercluck knows best! Fustercluck thinks a rickety old toolshed is the best place to keep his chicks safe during a storm like this! And so he led me on a merry f-“

“Peep.”

“-cking chase around in the mud with half of you guys unhelpfully following him, until I finally grabbed him so you would follow us all inside.” Tuff sighed dramatically and Astrid shook her head, grinning. He was more a mother hen than Chicken. It was endearing.

“Imprinting’s a fine concept and all, really,” Tuff said, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Less fine when there’s a complete doorknob standing there on hatching day. Sorry, I won’t be hanging with you guys tonight, A. I gotta get them dried off so they don’t catch colds. I can’t come to dinner looking like this anyway.”

“So did you let your dumbass rooster inside or did you throw him back out to stay in his shed?”

“Oh I wanted to, believe me.” Tuff made a face and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. There, on a perch made for two, Fustercluck and Chicken were preening each other’s feathers and burbling lovingly. “She wouldn’t have it.”

And he wasn’t anywhere near that heartless. Astrid knew that better than he seemed to himself. She came in, set the bowl on the table and picked up a towel. “Tell you what. After we dry off the chicks, I’ll help you get all this mud off you.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks,” Tuff said, offering her a smile and a different wet chick.

They got them clean and fluffed up and Chicken accepted them into her nest for the night, preening them the rest of the way dry. Tuff closed them in and noticed the bowl on the table. “Could I have some of your soup if you aren’t going to eat it? It’s going to get cold.”

Astrid smiled. “It’s yours, I brought it for you. In case you were sick or reading or decided to paint a wall.”

“You did?” Tuff didn’t give her time to take the offer back, picking the bowl up and draining it. He loved it when people cooked for him - Ruff had told her that.

She set a pot of water on his stove to heat up and looked for towels while he shed all but his leggings. He was trying to tie his hair back and out of the way but his braids were heavy and caked.

Astrid took over, making him sit in a chair and lean his hair back into a basin of clean warm water. Another pot of water was set to warm up on the fire. Poor Tuff would need more - probably most of it for his hair.

He sighed blissfully as the first soak drew the worst of the dirt and mud away, turning the basin water immediately opaque. “It feels like the fifty pound Night-terror napping on my head just woke up and flew away.”

“Yeah, I bet. This is mostly clay. You guys should put a potters wheel in your hut.”

“I’m not going to make anything resembling a normal piece of crockery,” he vowed.

“That’s alright. I’m sure Ruff won’t be making anything resembling a non-offensive piece of crockery,” Astrid said, and Tuff laughed.

He helped her change out the water to do his hair once more until it was closer to its normal golden color. A swim in the morning would help get the rest of it clear.

Astrid dabbed a towel into hot water and gently ran it over the patches of mud on his skin that had caked dry. When it was softened, she wiped the dirt away just as gently. Tuff followed her motions, getting his chest and arms and legs while she got his back.

Tuff sighed softly when they were finished, his exhaustion and relief tangible. “Thanks, A,” he said. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, but it’s fine. I’m sure there’s plenty of yak stew left over,” she said wryly.

“Stew would be cold by now. Here.” He got up, and headed to his pantry. He gifted her with a plate of cracked walnuts, dried apricot slices, goat cheese, and a few hard boiled eggs.

All put together, it looked like a feast for some warrior elf maiden traveling Midgard. Astrid smiled and cleaned her plate of everything that had been offered, eating slowly while Tuff - clean and in much better spirits - laughingly recounted his madcap adventure of chasing a very stubborn rooster all across a muddy, slippery, hole-filled yard. Barf and Belch had dug a man-sized pit earlier to hide their favorite bone and it had filled up quickly with a foamy slurry of mud and rainwater. Tuff had apparently forgotten this and went down with a splash.

Astrid couldn’t stop laughing - not at his story but at the way he told it. “I wish I could have seen that! You probably looked like some ravenous troll clawing its way out of Niflheim - no wonder the chickens freaked out and ran away! I would have run too, if you’d just popped out of the ground! And with all that lightning and thunder -“

“You would have run from a troll? You?” Tuff scoffed. “That poor thing would have been tied to a chair in an hour, begging you to call his mother to come pick him up.”

She cackled and rubbed at her cheeks, which were seriously aching by now. Astrid hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. It was definitely good for her.

They said their good nights a little while after Ruff came back to the hut, not drunk but definitely not sober. “You guy’s missed a really dumb boring match in which everyone followed the same dumb boring rules.” She stared at her brother, still casually shirtless, only wearing his leggings. “And apparently you guys played strip-poker instead. And my brother ... lost? Won? Who knows. Not asking ‘cause I’m gonna forget everything in the morning anyway!” Ruffnut stomped cheerfully up to the loft to pass out across her own bed.

Tuff still had his face in his hands by the time her snores drifted down and Astrid was beet red, snickering helplessly.

“On that note, we should probably get to bed too,” she finally managed, wiping her eyes.

Tuff nodded, getting up. “Yeah, I’ll walk you to the door. Thanks for everything. This was a good night.” He grinned at her, soft and hopeful and Astrid leaned in without thinking, and kissed the corner of his mouth.

She pulled back and they stared at each other, neither one wanting to blink first.

“Goodnight,” Astrid managed to squeak out finally, because her mom had told her that shield maidens never started what they couldn’t finish. “See you tomorrow?”

Tuff hand went up to touch where she had kissed him and then he seemed to remember himself and dropped his arm down. “Yeah. S-Swimming, right?” It was an offer to stay friends, if she thought she had made a mistake.

“Sure, I’ll dress for it. See you at dawn?”

“Yeah.” Tuff stared at her from the doorway and she really wanted to kiss him again. Astrid thought of Hiccup still trying to dry his papers and feeling slighted that she hadn’t stayed to help him. She weighed the pros and cons of tipping her boat over and refusing to navigate anymore of his confusing waters ever again.

Happily, Tuffnut leaned forward and caught her lips, solving the equation.

#httydrarepairbingo #tuffstrid #tuffnut #astrid #httyd

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blitz-and-hearth · 4 years

Note

11, 27, and obviously blitzstone

Neighbour AU + Sick/Injured Fic

This really wasn’t any of Blitzen’s business. His mother was a busybody and he did not want to end up inheriting her bad habits. But it was clear someone had to help when his next-door neighbor collapsed in the hallway of their apartment building. Blitzen’s neighbor was a good looking guy, tall pale and handsome. He dressed in literally all black with a lot of piercings in his ears and bags under his eyes dark enough to match his outfit. Blitz would put money on him having had a serious emo phase as a teen. Hearthstone, that was his name. They’d talked a few times, just casually. Blitzen was excited for a reason to practice his sign language again. He hadn’t really used ASL since his father passed….. But despite their chats and Blitz finding the taller man incredibly handsome, they weren’t even what he’d call friends. Defiantly not close enough for Blitzen to be dragging the other man into his apartment after he’d fainted, but here they were anyway. He wasn’t too surprised Hearth had passed out. The man was so pale and thin as a twig. That was a good thing right now, made it easier for Blitzen to haul his skinny ass onto his couch. His first thought was not hospital. Some people would call him stupid for that, but this apartment building was in a real shitty part of town. Blitzen doubted if you pooled all the residents of the building money together they’d have enough for one hospital visit. Ah, America, what a great dystopia they lived in. Only if the guy was really and truly dying was he gonna call an ambulance. And he didn’t look like he was dying, just real sick.

Blitzen put a hand on Hearthstone’s forehead, hissing through his teeth as he felt how high his temperature was. Damn, he was burning up. Must be the flu. Was the season for it. Hearth was coming back around now and fumbled a bit, trying to push him off and get up

“I’m fine, let me up”

He signed. Or at least that’s what Blitzen assumed that’s what he signed. His signs were half the movement they should be and his hands trembling.

“Like hell you are. How long have you been coming down with this?”

He demanded to know. Hearth hesitated

“… Awhile. it’s not… its none of your business”

He signed clumsily

“Maybe not, but you can’t just go around with a fever, collapsing everywhere. I know you’re a teacher, what if you got a student sick? So unless you have someone else I can call you’re stuck with me”

Blitzen replied scoldingly. He might not know Hearth well but had figured out enough to know bringing up the other male’s own health wouldn’t do much good. But suggesting getting someone else sick had Hearthstone sinking back against the couch with defeat.

“…. Fine. Take me back to my apartment”

“Nooo You need some help or you’re not gonna get better! You can’t just lay there in a puddle of gross fever sweat. Like it or not I’m helping. Now lay down and text your work to let them know you’re sick”

Blitzen ordered. Hearthstone scowled at him and for a second he thought he was about to get punched by the sick man, but instead after a minute he looked away and begrudgingly got out his phone to do as he’d said. Blitzen was pleased he didn’t just try to brush him off. While the deaf man texted in sick Blitz went about getting everything he’d need. Thick blankets, tissue box, some flu medicine, and water. He’d also be making some tea and soup too. But first he needed to get Hearth comfortable, and then call in to his own work for the day. Blitz returned and dumped the thick blankets on Hearthstone, tucking him in even as he tried to shoo him off. As the pale man glared at him from under the pile of blankets Blitz was reminded of those pictures on the internet of cats wrapped up in towels like burritos. What’d they call those? Purritos? Hearth was like purrito. Very cute but also being restrained for their own good.

“Here, drink. I’m gonna make you some soup”

Blitzen said as he pushed a glass of water into Hearthstone’s hands before heading towards the kitchen, putting a pot on the stove as he took out his phone to call up his manger. Blitz knew he wouldn’t be getting a sick day. He worked at Walmart and his manager was the absolute worst. She believed in the “if you won’t do it I’ll find someone who can” mentality and fired people often. But it would be fine. He’d been meaning to move onto a new job soon anyway, he was pretty sure the Starbucks on the corner was hiring…

“Hi, Boss. No- Yeah I know I’m late”

He grumbled, glancing at the clock. It was literally a minute over when he was supposed to be there.

“Listen I can’t come in today”

Blitzen explained before holding his phone at arm’s length as his manger started yelling. He caught Hearthstone’s eye and gave him an exasperated look, like “can you believe this shit?” His sass seemed to amuse the sick man, his pale lips twitching a bit in a half-smile. Once his manger finished yelling herself horse Blitz brought the phone back to his ear

“Fire me if you want but I can’t come in today, I’ve got something much more important to take care of right now”

He said shortly before hanging up

“Ugh she’s such a bitch, good riddance”

Blitzen muttered mostly to himself as he turned to head back into the kitchen, missing the surprised flustered face Hearthstone was making. He returned about ten minutes later to the living room with a hot bowl of chicken soup, and only then did he see how red Hearth’s face was

“Oh jeez I think its getting worse, you’re so red”

He muttered as he put a hand on Hearthstone’s forehead again. To his surprise, he didn’t try to slap his hand away, though his face did turn an even darker shade of red.

“I’m important to you?”

He asked with shakey hands. Blitzen blinked with confusion, his turn to flush red as he jerked his hand back shyly

“Wha- What’d you mean?”

“You said you had more important things to take care of. I’m more important than your job?”

Hearthstone explained. Blitzen didn’t know how to answer that without completely exposing his crush, stuttering

“U-uh no- I mean yeah but- Not- Urg…. Maybe”

Blitz finally mumbled

“That’s not much of a real answer”

Hearth replied

“Well…. If you want one maybe you should work on getting better. If you die you’ll never find out”

Blitzen huffed, cheeks still red

“Now shut up and eat some damn soup”

He dismissed as he shoved the bowl into Hearthstone’s hands. He looked like he wanted to press Blitzen further but after a moment of carefully considering him, he just ducked his head, starting to eat. Though Blitz couldn’t help but notice the small smile on his face

#mmmm its all about the pinning #sorry these ficlets are taking awhile I wanted to finish up my Halloween fic first and then had homework #So if you sent one in don't worry it's being written #don't send any more tho #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #blitzstone #blitzen x hearthstone #blitzen/hearthstone #mcga blitzen #blitzen son of freya #mcga hearthstone #hearthstone alderman #slice of life fic #sick fic #romantic tension #myfanfics #long post #fanfiction

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 5 years

Text

The Secretary (Part 7)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Intermission - Part 8 - Part 9

TWs: Illness

“What’s the status?” Delia asked, phone in hand as she stirred the pot on the stove. “Have you found her?” There were a whole team of trackers dedicated to finding Eliana, and it was time for their check-in.

“No, Secretary Delia. We haven’t found the splice either.”

Delia took a deep breath, pausing. “Keep searching, keep focused. Remember how urgent this is: we have a reaper and a living being who are splintered. Take shifts. I want someone searching at all times.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll talk to you tonight at the next check-in.”

The call ended with a soft beep, and Delia took in the quiet of her kitchen. Everyone was working their hardest, but it had still been days since Eliana had taken off. It was hard to find someone strong enough to conceal their own soul from Death’s eyes.

But the thing about souls, about the very nature of death, was that a few days was nothing more than a blink of the eye. Eliana had to keep getting lucky. They only had to get lucky once.

“What’s the update?” Jackson’s voice pulled Delia back to her current task. She was making lunch. Chicken soup. Something warm and easy on the stomach that William could eat too.

Delia pulled the pan from the stove, and started ladling out a bowl and a mug of the soup. “They haven’t found her yet, but I’ll get another update this evening.” She said, sliding a spoon into Jackson’s bowl. She handed it to him, bundled up on her couch with his laptop.

He’d needed a break, a hot shower, and a filling meal. This was a marathon, not a sprint. “Are you okay? Do you need anything else?” She asked, tugging the blanket further up over his shoulders.

“I’m okay, I’ve got this.” He said, smiling as he held the bowl in his icy hands. It was warm, and she could see some of his tension start to ease out of him at the first spoonful. “Honestly, thanks Delia, I know you’ve been doing a lot for us.”

Delia looked over the man on her couch, the rings under his eyes standing out in sharp contrast to his pallor. He was so young. Too young to experience having his very existence being shattered like it had been. “I’m happy to, Jack. This is my job, after all.” She didn’t miss how he leaned into her touch, her warmth, when she slid her fingers through his hair. "Secretaries are supposed to take care of the reapers under them, and their loved ones.”

He continued eating, and Delia quietly went into her guest bedroom. William was asleep with a hot compress on his forehead, blankets pulled up to his chin. His color hadn’t improved at all, but it hadn’t gotten worse. Stability was all they could ask at the moment. “Will, it’s time to eat.” She said, holding the mug of broth as she slid onto the bed. “Wake up for me now, come on.”

William moaned, a soft noise that caught in his throat and never made it past his lips. Hazel eyes fluttered, and he looked towards Delia. Fear flashed through those eyes, for just a second, as he first registered the strength of the soul next to him. “Eli...?”

“It’s me, Will.” Delia said, sliding the hot compress from his forehead and replacing it with her hand. “Delia, the other Secretary, remember?”

Another moment, while he processed the words, and then he relaxed. “Del...ia, sorry...dreams.” He said, more sigh than speech.

Delia smiled and slid her hand down underneath his shoulders. “It’s alright, I know how disorienting this is.” She lifted him up, pulling him with one arm until he was leaning against her with his head tipped back against her shoulder. Despite the electric blanket he’d been lying under, the warmth hadn’t seemed to soak in at all. “I made some chicken soup, thought you’d like some broth. I know eating is hard.”

He nodded, smiling when his trembling hands wrapped around the mug. “Sme-ells go...od.” Delia helped him steady it as he took a slow drink. William shivered against her as warmth finally pierced him, exhausted muscles desperately wanting to relax. She took it away so he didn’t scald his throat with the sustained heat, and he let out a shaky breath. “You...yo-ou okay...?” He asked, one hand finding her free one. “Know...know Eli...’n you, you were...together.” His voice shook with the effort of speaking, of keeping it from cracking on every word.

Delia hadn’t had much personal experience with William, since he was under Eliana’s watch, but this rang true of everything she’d heard said about him. Prone to ignoring his own problems to deflect, redirect. He was scared, and felt better focusing on someone else. But it was sweet. Considerate. Sincere.

“I’m...I’ve been better.” She said, helping him take another long drink of the broth. “It came as a shock to me too, and...I can’t help but feel responsible for what happened. Like I should’ve seen it coming.”

William had only had about half the mug, only a few ounces of the broth, but his eyes were already drooping again. “S’not...not y-your fault...just ‘cause, ‘cause she li-ived with you...was wi-ith you...s’not your fault...” He turned his face towards her, now-cold forehead finding the crook of her neck before he continued in a whisper. “Peo-ople...do bad...bad things sometimes, just...just ‘cause they do...on’t think...”

Delia was quiet as she thought about those words, letting him just lie against her and listen to the even thrum of her death magic that his body so desperately craved. The minutes ticked on slowly, and her emotions shifted uncomfortably in her chest. Death had said something similar. She felt him almost melt against her then, into her warmth and stability and safety, and a quick glance down told her that he was asleep again.

“I suppose it would be easier to believe, coming from you, if you had a touch more self-awareness.” She murmured, smiling despite how it made her chest hurt to hear that coming from a young man that still blamed himself for his own murder. “You’ll get there.”

A text lit up her phone.

We have her location.

#whump #comfort #illness #a gentle death #saturday sun #the secretary of moon #the secretary of sun

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honeybee-babe · 5 years

Text

Sharing is Caring (Except When You’re Sick) Part 3

Part three of my collab Sick Luther and Sick Klaus fic with @hargreevesstyles. Can also be read on her blog!

Meanwhile, at the CVS check-out counter, Klaus held the sleeve of the hoodie Diego had forced him to wear up to his face.

“Hih… xngt-ishuu! Ht’TDZshieww!” He scrunched up his nose afterwards and the itchiness that had barely been affected by the sneezes, and rubbed his hoodie-sleeve covered knuckles underneath his nostrils to prevent another outburst. Diego tried not to watch. He would definitely be washing that before he wore it again. In fact, maybe he’d just give it to Klaus.

“Bless you, dear!” The middle-aged cashier flashed him a warm smile as she put the cough suppressants and expectorants (“Might as well get both, knowing you!”) into a brown paper bag.

“Thanks! I’ll take that!” Klaus said with a grin as he took the bag from her, punctuating the sentence with a watery sniffle. Diego rolled his eyes, not looking up from the card reader as he punched in his pin. The total was a bit higher than he’d hoped for, but he tried not to let his frustration show. At this insistence of Vanya’s frantically scribbled list, they’d stocked up on tissues, cough drops, Gatorade, the whole nine yards, even buying extra of the stuff they already had at home. Plus Emergen-C for Klaus. And ice cream, he’d insisted on ice cream (“It’s for Luther! It’ll help with his throat.”). Yeah, right. But Diego had agreed, not wanting to waste time arguing with a pouty Klaus. He just wanted to get home and give everyone their pills ASAP.

“Always best to plan ahead, I guess, hmm?” The cashier smiled at Diego, holding up the last remaining item -- Echinacea -- and putting it in the bag turned to Diego. “You make sure your boyfriend takes this right away before that cold gets worse!” Diego blushed deep red. Klaus chuckled out loud, stopping himself when he felt a bit of a tickle forming in his throat at the tail end of it. He cleared his throat subtly, which subdued it, but it still lingered a bit.

“Will do. But he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

“Oh my god.” The cashier brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. We’re not exactly twins -- and I’m not sick,” Klaus said with a proud smile. “It’s for my brother.”

“You’re sick?” The cashier looked at Diego with a raised brow.

“No,” he sighed, “he means our other brother.”

Speaking of brothers and twins, Five was surprised to find Allison and Vanya speaking in hushed tones in the living room. He licked the peanut butter off his fingers as he stood in the entryway and watched them deep in conversation

“I don’t know, Van. But I’ve never seen him so sick, he’s always had a pretty decent immune system”.

“But then how did he get so sick?” Vanya asked, voice soft and scared. “I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Five cut in, crossing his arms smugly over his chest as he stepped into. Allison whipped her head up at him and shot him daggers.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about, Five.”

“Let me guess, you’re talking about Luther, who is sick, and you’re trying to figure out how it happened.”

“Is this some sort of weird twin thing?”

“No, Allison. It’s a having-a-brain thing.”

Five explained how it really hadn’t been that difficult to figure it out, even without his ability to literally jump through his brother’s locked bedroom door -- which he’d only done once, when he heard him whimpering, thank you very much. The fact that Luther had been holed up in his room for two days was enough for him to draw that conclusion -- and let’s just say the largest Hargreeves sibling wasn’t exactly the best at stifling his sneezes. Plus, Five had passed by the pot of chicken soup boiling on the stove. It had to be for someone.

“And to answer your previous question,” Five turned to Vanya, “have you ever tried living in complete isolation for four years? Because I doubt you would feel very healthy when -- “

“We come bearing gifts!” Klaus stood in the doorway to the house, holding up one of the paper bags from the drugstore up above his head with a huge grin on his face. Even despite his chipper energy, his red-tinged nose and slightly-more-pronounced than usual pallor was unmistakable. As was the slight hoarseness of his voice.

Diego trailed behind with two more bags, filled to the brim. You couldn’t even see his face behind them. Vanya rushed to grab one of the bags off of Diego. As they started unpacking everything, Klaus started laughing.

He joked, “What, are we opening up our very own hospital?”

“Come here, ghost boy. We’ve gotta get some of this stuff in you,” Diego ordered.

Klaus groaned and sat down next to his stabby brother. Diego opened the Emergen-C and a water bottle and poured the drink mix in. He shook it up and handed it to Klaus who just set it down beside him.

“Drink it, headass,” Five said.

Again, Klaus groaned. He opened the bottle and drank about a quarter of it. As soon as he put the bottle down, Diego was forcing pills into his hands. Mucinex and Sudafed along with a couple of cough drops.

“I’m not sick!” Klaus said.

Vanya jumped in, “You’re going to catch it. The thermometer I brought downstairs that Diego took your temperature with...I had just used it on Luther and I don’t think we cleaned it in between uses, and...yeah.”

“Hh’-gkSCHh-nGXTchiew! Hh’tsxchyuu!” Klaus caught the sneezes in his palms like normal, but what he forgot was that Diego’s sweatshirt was about four times his size and the sleeves draped over his hands. “Sorry.” He sniffled lightly.

“Bless you,” Allison said pointedly.

The attention of the whole room was on Klaus, something he’d usually bask in but this time he felt vulnerable and uncomfortable in the spotlight.

He grumbled, “I’m not sick! I sneeze all the time!”

Five shrugged, “He’s not wrong.” Still he picked up the thermometer off of the coffee table and blinked over to Klaus’ side. “Open up.”

“Really? This? Agai-ow, what the hell, Five?” Klaus scolded, as his tiniest sibling tried to shove the thermometer in his mouth as he was speaking. Klaus ripped the device out of his brother’s hand and put it in his mouth. After it beeped, he looked at it. “Look, 98.7. It’s pretty much the same as last time.”

“You went up a tenth of a degree,” Diego noted.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “What-fucking-ever, Diego!”

“Take the pills already!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that from you,” Klaus chuckled.

It was Diego’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah and it’s the fucking last time too so don’t get used to it.”

Klaus ignored him and swallowed the pills dry. With another threatening look from Five, he took another swig of the Emergen-C.

“I’m gonna go check on Luther,” Allison said.

Five added, “I’ll come with. I’ve yet to see him in all his sick glory.”

The two disappeared, Five actually walking with Allison instead of blinking away.

“Hehht’TSCHHhyeu-nkTT!” Klaus moaned lightly after.

“Bless you. Where’s Ben?”

Klaus rubbed his nose vigorously. “Uhh, he’s right here. Yeah. No, no I’m not. Shut the hell up! Whatever.” He turned to face his visible siblings. “I will not be manifesting Ben for the time being, as he is being a complete bitch!”

“What’s he doing?” Vanya asked.

“Pestering me! He’s all like ‘Oooohhh Klaus! This is exactly how Luther was at the start! Blah blah blah!’ like, I don’t care!” Klaus ranted. “I feel fine! I know that you’re all used to me being useless but I actually think I’m okay for once and no one will hip off my fucking dick!”

It was silent. Klaus sighed. He felt guilty. Sure, Ben was annoying him but Klaus was the only way his siblings could see Ben. He couldn’t keep him from them like he was his master. He didn’t want to be like that.

“Whatever,” Klaus muttered. Slowly, Ben became visible.

Klaus tuned out the conversation as he slumped back down on the couch.

Up in Luther’s room, Allison and Five were trying to give Luther everything they could without absolutely filling his stomach cavity with different types of medicine. They used some spray Klaus found that was supposed to numb your sore throat. Luther said it didn’t work.

They waited a few minutes after applying everything. Allison was impatient to see improvement. She hated seeing any of her siblings feel like this, especially Luther. He was supposed to be their leader, and when he couldn’t lead them who was supposed to?

For the next hour, Allison checked Luther’s temperature every fifteen minutes. It finally dropped back down to 100. Still a fever, not not nearly as bad as his 103.4 degree fever from before.

“Allison?” Luther asked weakly. His voice had become so much more raw and broken as his coughing had increased. “Can I have another cough drop? My throat hurts so badly.”

Allison nods and goes to give him another one. She hands him two this time, just in case. She then announces that she’s going to go get some tea for him because the cough drops aren’t working as well as she’d like.

All Allison can think about is how sick Luther was. She had had to change his shirt because of how sweat-soaked he was. Luther was obviously embarrassed but he let Allison do it without complaining. That was a big clue to Allison that he was really miserable. He had started having more productive coughs, ones that were wet so everyone in the room could feel his sickness.

Five had left shortly after Allison had taken Luther’s temperature the second time. She didn’t know where he went, but she knew that Five didn’t like seeing his brother in such discomfort. Luther wasn’t one to really show how he was feeling. He was almost always still as a stone. It was odd for them to see him break his walls down for once.

As Allison poured the tea into the kettle, a quiet voice asked, “Can I have some? Only if there’s enough water. Diego said I should keep drinking it just in case.”

“Of course. Sit down,” Allison said.

It was Klaus who had entered the room and he sat down quickly and quietly. Allison would have noticed that he was acting off if she wasn’t so worried about Luther.

“I’m gonna take this up to Luther and then I’ll come back down to hang out with you,” she promised.

Klaus shook his head, “No no no, you don’t have to. You can stay with Luther, I know you want to. You don’t have to feel obligated to stick around. I’ve got Ben here.”

“Klaus, I want to hang out with you,” Allison’s voice faltered. “I thought it would be nice.” She couldn’t help but be upset that Klaus thought she was only offering to hang out with him out of pity. That’s what Klaus was used to: people pitying him.

“Oh, okay then.” He grabbed a napkin off of the center of the table and held it up over his face. “Hh’eiishieww-ishhew! H’nxght!”

“Bless you. You sure you’re feeling alright?”

Klaus nodded, “Must be pollen or something. Diego took my temperature and I feel pretty okay otherwise. I’ve been sneezing all day, but that’s something I’m pretty used to.”

He was right. Klaus was a pretty sneezy guy. Due to his several-year-long relationship with snorting cocaine, Klaus was set off by almost every strong smell there was. He had grown up being allergic to pollen and he had found out in his late teens that he was quite allergic to cats. Klaus wondered if there was anything Luther even could be allergic to on the moon. Moon dust? Recycled air? He didn’t know.

“As long as you’re not feeling too badly,” Allison said.

“Hihh...hh...fuck I...hh’ishhyu! Ugh. My god!”

Allison giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Allison continued laughing.

Klaus feigned anger. “What’s so funny?”

“You just had that dramatic ass buildup for that tiny sneeze!” She confessed.

Klaus cracked a smile but then quickly went back to faking his furiousness. “My sneezes aren’t tiny! They’re quite average, thank you very much! They come out so damn fast sometimes, it’s like they’re all on top of one another. They all fuck me in the ass one after another. It’s like a damn orgy but without any orgasming.”

“One time I read that if you sneeze enough it can make you orgasm,” Allison doted. “Not sure if that’s true though.”

“I’ll have to try it out someday,” Klaus said. “Not today though.”

Allison joked, “You better be quiet about it because Diego would not be happy to hear about you triggering your allergies or your asthma on purpose.”

“You’re doing what?” Diego’s voice came in.

“Nothing! Just fun and games, that’s all,” Klaus said.

“Allison mentioned your asthma is it acting up? Are you feeling alright? Christ, Klaus you have to tell us these things Allison where’s the thermometer-“

Klaus laughed, “Calm the hell down, Diego. It’s not acting up, I promise. I’ll tell you if it is, you know that!”

It was times like this where Klaus really saw how much Diego cared for him. He could become so worried in .2 seconds and it always threw Klaus off of his game. Part of Klaus’ whole routine was people not caring about him and it kind of threw a wrench in things when people started to care.

Diego looked at Allison with the same urgency, only calming down a bit when she nodded her head in agreement with Klaus, who was sniffling and rubbing at his nose.

“You mentioned his asthma --”

“In jest, Diego. Jeez, lighten up!” Klaus play-chastised his brother, shoving him lightly with his free hand, which of course left his brother completely unfazed. Diego was similarly unfazed by Allison’s explanation of their previous discussion. While Allison and Klaus chuckled again, Diego’s jaw remaining locked and he rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious. Klaus is getting sick, Luther’s upstairs hacking his lungs out and you think it’s the perfect time for a stand-up routine.”

There was a silence after that. The spoon Allison was using to stir a cup of tea hovered in mid-air. Even Klaus’ sniffling and nose rubbing stopped as he stared at Allison in excitement, waiting for her response. Finally, she started stirring the cup of tea again.

“Yes, Diego. My brothers are sick,” she said, voice calm. A small smile on her lips. “And I’m making them feel better by being a nice, pleasant presence. You should try it, god forbid you might like it.”

“For real, D, don’t be a dick. Sissy is a mom, she’s the best at this kind of thing -- see?” Klaus took the cup of tea from her hand as she offered it. “Thanks, Ally!” He blew on it as Diego shot him a look. “Hey, you’re good at this stuff, too, man!” he quickly added on. Klaus was truly grateful for all of the times Diego had helped him out in the past when he was sick, before he was sober. But now his brother went into panic mode the second he heard him sniffle. It really killed his vibe.

“You’re just a little… intense,” Klaus said with a small grin, quickly covering it up as he raised the mug to his lips. He sipped way too quickly. Not only did he burn his tongue, but steam rising from the mug made his nose itch. He rubbed at it again to delay the inevitable reaction.

“Well, if you’d been in my shoes all these years maybe you’d understand why I don’t think it’s funny to see you make a joke out of it when you’re sick.”

“But I’m not even sick!” Klaus bit back, in that same whiny tone Diego had become familiar with over the years. His nose chose the perfect time to finalize its reaction in that moment. He hastily set the tea down on the counter as he again buried his face in his hoodie sleeve. “nxXGsht-ixgtshu! Hih! H’dtZshiuhh--fuck!”

“Not sick my ass-”

“Bless you!” The three siblings whipped their heads to the entrance to the kitchen, but Vanya was standing at the stove seconds later, having rushed in in a panic. She was just as bad as Diego. She fussed over the large pot of soup boiling on the stove, lifting a small spoonful up to her mouth to taste-test and blowing on it. “Diego, I told you to watch it while I was gone!”

“Sorry, Van, I was too busy watching over our idiot brother.”

“Rude!” Klaus gasped, moving his hand to cover his mouth in pretend shock.

“Klaus, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick yet?” Vanya asked, as if it was an inevitability. She turned to look at him for concern, the spoon still raised to her lips, her anxiety over his well being overpowering her anxiety over dinner. Diego swapped anxieties with her, diving in with another spoon and tasting the soup without blowing on it before she could bring the spoon to her lips. He burned his tongue in his haste, but he nodded through the little wince of pain.

“It’s done.” Vanya shifted her focus back to her own soup-filled spoon and finally tasted it, nodding in agreement.

“Klaus, come get your soup.” Vanya started ladling the soup into the six bowls she had laid out.

“Wait, it’s for me?” her curly-haired brother asked in mild shock (again, people caring about him was not the reality he’d known most of his life). Though what came across was annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest. He’d sat at the counter watching them prepare the soup for the last hour, sniffling discreetly and rubbing his nose as Diego rapidly chopped vegetables and flung them into the pot with perfect accuracy, Vanya quietly stirring and adding the seasonings. “Give it to Luther, he’s the one who needs it. I’m not--”

“Klaus, eat the damn soup!” Ben had apparently appeared behind him, and he could hear the eye-roll in his voice. Klaus’ living siblings had blinked at him when he’d apparently cut himself off mid-sentence, assuming he was going to sneeze, since he’d cut himself off in the middle of the sentence. When it didn’t happen, Allison sprung into action, picking up a bowl and putting it into Klaus’ hands. She chuckled as she brought a perfectly manicured hand up to his cheek and patted it gently.

“Klaus, do you really think we made this whole pot of soup just for you? And you guys say I’m a narcissist.” Klaus watched as Diego shook his head and walked over to the table with a bowl of soup, Allison and Vanya following shortly after.

“Oh.” Klaus looked down at the soup in his hands and tried to hide the little smile that had formed on his face. He knew for a fact that they had made the soup because of Luther and him, and even if he was convinced he wasn’t sick, the fact that they cared so much and they were going to make a family dinner out of it made him feel just a little bit warm and fuzzy.

“Where’s Luther?” Klaus asked as he set his soup down on a placemat. “Shouldn’t he be the one we’re worried about feeding?”

“He’ll eat in his room. He needs to be quarantined,” Diego said, blowing on a spoonful of his own soup.

“I’ll bring him some!” Klaus rose from his seat.

“Absolutely not.” Diego shot him daggers. Klaus slumped down into his seat with a pout and scooped up a spoonful of soup. “Allison, why don’t you bring it--”

“Oh, no, let him be. He’s asleep.”

“Again?” Allison gaped. “Well I guess that’s what his body needs more right now.”

“Mmmhmm,” Vanya responded a little too quickly, putting her water glass to her lips almost immediately afterwards and taking a big, audible gulp. All these years and she was still a terrible liar. Thankfully, everyone was so preoccupied with eating -- and, in Klaus’ case, trying not to sneeze -- that they’d let it slide.

Around twenty minutes prior, Vanya had left her precious soup entrusted to Diego’s care and walked upstairs to Luther’s room to check on him and ask if he was ready for dinner. Afraid that he might actually be asleep, she opened the door slowly and carefully, not making a sound. The sight that greeted her had been pretty surprising, and even more so touching.

Luther was lying on his bed in the fetal position, barely fitting on the twin XL mattress. His blankets had been pulled back up to his chin, hopefully due to the fever breaking. He was wheezing in that careful way that meant one miscalculated breath would send him into the harsh, liquidy coughs he’d been producing for the past hour or so, thanks to the hefty dose of Mucinex.

And at his side sat Five, probably the only one of the siblings who could fit next to Luther’s massive frame on the bed. He looked down at his brother with intense concentration, brows furrowed as he traced constellations on his broad back with his index finger.

“Gemini,” he announced softly. Despite his expression, his voice carried an air of tenderness Vanya hadn’t heard from him in years. Not since they were kids, and even then it was rare. And he never used it on her. Only Luther, and only when he really needed it.

“The twins,” Luther wheezed out, a small smile playing on his lips, which quickly dissipated as his jaw went slack with a shaky breath. Five quickly retracted his hand, just as Luther buried his face in his blankets. “Heh-nGXTchiew! Hahh-nXXT!” He was stifling again, and judging by the slight curl in Five’s lip, Vanya knew the reason why. Five had never done well with germs, and she caught his slight flinch when Luther’s blanketed form contracted a third time. “S-heh!-sorryfive-

‘nGXTSCH! Hhh’nXGTschiehh. Hhh… heh!”

Luther tensed in anticipation, and so did Five; Vanya could tell he was about to bounce. So she decided to be a good sister and do something about it.

Concentrating on the sound of Luther’s breathing, she focused her energy on his nose, sending little waves of energy flowing outwards against the walls of his nostrils from within, and thus applying pressure from the inside out; something she’d been doing to herself lately, whenever she had to sneeze in a crowded place, or just didn’t want to attract any attention to herself. She released her hold when Luther’s breathing evened out.

As if on cue, Luther let out a deep, wheezy sigh. Five relaxed again, chuckling a bit as he put his finger back gently on his brother’s back.

“That was a first. Gesundheit!” His voice still held the soft tone Vanya had feared it might lose. “How about Libra next?”

With a small smile on her face, Vanya had slipped out of the room even more quietly than she’d came in.

She walked back to the kitchen, satisfied with her ability to stop Luther from sneezing, and she wondered if she could possibly do the opposite. She would get to test this theory out at dinner.

#sick luther #sick klaus #luther whump #klaus whump #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua fanfic #tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #luther snz #klaus snz #tua snz

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hcneymilkks · 4 years

Text

SHINee/ Super M Taemin ‘Hot Chocolate’

Requested on WATTPAD

Request your own oneshot here!

prompt numbers:

5. Spilling hot chocolate/coffee/a hot-fucking-beverage on the other and insisting on paying for a new drink and new clothes for them, unaware that they're rich and very capable of buying themselves another coffee. Besides, they don't know that this jacket is Louis Vuitton and cost more than the knock-off Gucci belt that had caught their eye in the first place (probably looking a little lower than the belt, but we digress). "So you wanna... hot chocolate and chill?" "If you ask me that one more time, I will dump my hot chocolate on you."

7. Being gifted tickets to see a family member overseas, but having to leave their S/O at home for Christmas, not expecting them to turn up on their doorstep on Christmas morning with a bouquet of roses.

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Genre: fluff with some angst

Word count: 3.1k

Flecks of snow landed on your eyelashes, propping your hood up higher to cover your face from the cold.

The drastic change from fall to winter had you feeling under the weather, walking to the nearest convenience store to buy some medicine, not wanting to bother Taemin.

You entered your shared apartment to smell chicken noodle soup boiling on the stove, your stomach growling like an animal. Taemin was humming a tune while stirring the soup, not realizing you entered until you wedged yourself in between the stove and him.

"Goodness Y/N! You scared me!" He quickly moved you away from the stove, not wanting you to get burned because you wanted attention.

"Sorry." A coughing fit came and went, reminding yourself to take the medicine.

He sighed and engulfed you in a hug, patting your back and then placing his warm hand on your forehead.

"You're burning up, let's eat and then you need to rest." You nodded, feeling the effects of the medicine you took just a moment earlier.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, Taemin forcing you to rest and kissing your forehead as you whined for his embrace, your eyes feeling drowsy and your mind filled with what to do on Christmas day.

_______________

"Hey, remember the time when we first met?" The Christmas holidays were coming up, and you felt better, your body finally getting used to the winter weather.

The pretend fire you had on the Television gave the living space a more home-like effect, the both of you lazing around on the couch drinking hot chocolate.

Taemin choked, as the hot liquid went down quicker than expected. "I do. Why so out of the blue?"

You shrugged. "I don't know, I just find it really embarrassing for me. I mean, you are so rich and handsome but also so kind. If you had made me go get your shirt dry cleaned I think I would have been broke forever."

He chuckled. "But you were cute so I let it off the hook." He winked at you and you cringed, feeling a blush creeping up...or was that from the hot chocolate. "Besides, I didn't really like that shirt and I couldn't do anything about it. My parents would disapprove of me giving the shirt away so I guess you became a blessing to my curse."

It was a bright fall day, the orange leaves crunching under your shoes. Coming from a stressful class you knew you needed a pick-me-up. What better way to go and get your favourite drink at the local coffee shop at Campus? Quick, affordable, aesthetic, a great study place too.

The bells chimed as you walked in, the fresh smell of ground coffee beans hitting your nose with the sound of milk being foamed, it was a heavenly place for the coffee lover.

"Can I get one hot chocolate please?" But for you, you couldn't let go of one specific drink.

"One hot chocolate for Y/N."

Your hands clasped the open drink tightly, keeping your eyes focused on the ethereal leaf design made with the extra milk, adding a small dollop of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top. One second the drink was beautifully made, photogenic. And the next?

It was all over a man.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry!" You rushed to grab napkins from the drink counter, trying to wipe off the mess.

You accidentally touched the man's jacket and gasped. It was soft to the touch and a beautiful light grey colour, the amount of puff perfect to protect the owner from a cold. But yet, there was a stain not only on the white shirt the man wore but on the jacket as well. A brown ugly colour which stood out a hundred times more.

Trying to wipe it off, but instead smearing the stain, even more, panicking inside.

A hand clasped over yours, rough but smooth feeling at the same time.

"Hey, it's alright." You look up and into the eyes of Lee Taemin, the top student in your Chemistry department.

Shaking your head, you took another sip of the hot chocolate. "But Taemin really, just what happened with that shirt and jacket?"

"Well the shirt is gone, thank goodness for that. And the jacket, well...."

That was three years ago, never would you have imagined that your life would revolve around his. That the both of you knew, that you were soulmates, shared over a cup of hot chocolate.

A few dates here and there, never without a cup of hot chocolate and one of his awful pick-up lines.

"So you wanna... hot chocolate and chill?"

"Lee Taemin If you ask me that one more time, I will dump my hot chocolate on you."

Getting closer to him meant that you saw more than just his appearance. Although he is rich and finding out later on that the jacket and shirt you spilled your drink on was Louis Vuitton branded. Panicking aside, you didn't care about the money or the looks. His personality is what hit you the most. Gentle, kind, reassuring, always willing to listen to your problems, on and on.

He was the one.

______________

"Yo sis when are you coming home for Christmas?"

Two weeks before Christmas day and work had become more tiring than ever. Everyone wanted to get results out before the holidays, but that puts you into working overtime. Taemin was the same, the business booming with less paperwork and more physical work needed.

You sighed while washing the dishes, your neck cramping up as your younger brother Mark complained about how he and the rest of your family could only see you once or twice a year. It wasn't your fault that the company wouldn't give time off longer than six weeks total.

"Um, I'm not sure I'll be able to come this year. Work is getting busier and they need all the help they can get."

Mark sighed on the other side of the phone while opening a bag of chips and stuffing a handful into his mouth. "hy dun yu qut he job?"

"What?"

"I said why don't you quit the job?"

"Mark I already told you, I worked there for an internship and they liked me so I just stayed. Plus it's way easier than having to search for one." You washed the last plate and moved to the couch, your feet sore from standing.

"Doesn't your fiance have his own business? Can't he just hire you as his secretary or something?"

"Fiance? Mark we aren't engaged."

"Huh? But Taemin was texting me what kind of a ring to get you?"

"WHAT!?" Standing up as fast as lightning resulted in a stubbed toe. "Oops, I said too much. BYE SIS I LOVE YOU TEXT ME IF YOU'RE COMING HOME."

"MARK YOU LITTLE SH-" and the line went dead.

Massaging your baby toe, you grumbled. "What the hell was that?"

The lock jingled as Taemin opened the door, his cheeks a soft shade of pink wrapped up in a plaid scarf and a gray puffer jacket....yes, the same one you spilled the drink on.

"Baby I'm home, give me hugs." You laughed and ran to hug him, complaining at how cold he was.

"I was just outside!"

"I know but still!"

Christmas Music was softly played as you both were in the kitchen cooking a delicious dinner. Having too much wine even before the meal resulted in yet another spill, thankfully not on anyone's clothing.

Chatter about work became the main topic for tonight's conversations, Taemin complaining about Lucas and Chenle.

"I swear those two will be the death of me, especially Lucas. He's so tall and annoying sometimes, and too loud."

"But Taemin you let them work with you."

"...It was a mistake."

More wine and cuddles, picking a good Christmas movie on Netflix. You snuggled up against Taemin's side, working the remote while he drank his wine from his free hand. After deciding on Elf, you decided to finally ask what was on your mind the whole day.

"Taemin.....what was Mark talking about that you were trying to buy me a ring?"

Taemin choked again on his wine, spitting it back into the cup and cringing in disgust. "W-whatever do you mean darling? A ring? What ring? I see no ring?" he awkwardly chuckles as you eye him weirdly, pressing your hand on his forehead.

"Baby, is something wrong?" He shakes his head. You, on the other hand, don't buy it.

"Taemin you can tell me anything it's okay."

He takes a deep breath and stands up.

You, in your sweats and one of his oversized shirts and him, also wearing sweats and an oversized shirt. Elf playing in the background, the Christmas tree lit up. He figures there was no better opportunity than to do it here. Slowly, Taemin gets down on one knee and reaches in his pocket. A velvet box perched on his hand. Your reflexes immediately bring your own hands to your mouth, gasping when he opens the box to reveal a beautiful ring. Simple yet elegant, the light hitting all the perfect points of the diamond perched on top of the gold band, showing colours of pastel pink and purple.

"Y/N, I know we both probably don't look the best right now but I know for sure this is how I want to spend the rest of my life....with you. Will you marry me?"

_______________

"HOLY SHIT! I knew it!" You chuckled as you packed your luggage. Mark was cheering on the other side of the phone and you knew it would last ages.

"Alright alright, Mark I get it! He proposed the wedding won't be until a while okay?

Mark laughed. "Okay okay, sis I get it. By the way, are you coming? Mom and dad have been nagging me to ask you almost every day."

"...yeah I'm coming. Taemin got me a ticket to see you guys so pick me up from the airport at 3:00 pm tomorrow okay?"

The call ended shortly after that, packing all of the essentials needed for the one week trip. You admired the engagement ring, smiling. It was perfect.

But not everyone agreed.

Later that evening you and Taemin reached his parents' condominium, him ringing the doorbell as you held the still steaming fruit cake in your hands, nervous as ever.

The door swung open and Taemin's mother engulfed him in a hug, giving kisses to both of his cheeks.

"Hello, mother nice to see you again."

"Oh come in, you must be hungry." His mother moved her eyes to you, as you tried to bow but almost dropping the cake. She discreetly rolled her eyes and gestured her son to come in, leaving you to fend for yourself.

_________________

The clinking of glasses surrounded the home, small talk developing. What you thought was a small family dinner turned out to be a whole relative get-together for the holidays. You felt out of place in your dress not tailored to your style, standing beside Taemin for most of the night while you felt the chilling stares of disapproval.

Taemin gently placed his hand in yours, guiding you to the middle of the dining room table. With a clink of his glass, the room became silent.

"I have an announcement to make." he began. "As you all know my girlfriend Y/N, two days ago we have entered into a new chapter of our lives. We're engaged."

The silence, the moving eyes, you felt your stomach drop. Everyone goes back to their small talk and you looked at Taemin, showing a small smile. He bends closer towards you, his breath tickling your ears, "they will warm up to the news, it's still a little shocking to them."

After excusing yourself to use the washroom, you accidentally bump into Taemin's mother, who scoffs under her breath.

"Still clumsy as ever I see? You never learn."

You turn around. "Pardon me?"

"I see you forced my son to marry you? Why? What is your reason with him? Surely you're in it for the money?" Her eyes going cold.

"No! I would never do such a thing, Madam. He was the one that proposed to me. I love him."

Her eyes judge you up and down, taking sight of your second hand "fancy" dress. "Never will I let my son marry a commoner like you." With that, she walked away, your thoughts and tears clouding your vision, second-guessing everything.

___________________

The ride home was silent, your fingers fiddling with the ring on your left hand. Taemin humming to a song on the local radio.

His hand finds yours and you hold it like there's no tomorrow, fearing for what you will do next.

Your mind is split into two, your persona leaning more into option two. For even though it will hurt, it's better than to live your life in agony.

Once back at home you quickly remove your shoes and run to your shared bedroom, slamming the door. Taemin places down the keys at the entrance table and slanders over to the door, knocking it ever so lightly that if you weren't so close to the doors, you would have missed it.

"Love, are you alright? I know the silence at the party was unexpected but I promise you, every-" "Do you really love me?"

Taemin was taken aback, you had never asked him such a thing.

"I'm sorry?"

You opened the door and he saw you tear-faced. "Do you really love me Lee Taemin?"

"Oh Y/N, of course, I love you, why did you think I would ask you to marry me?"

You shrug. "Oh I don't know, maybe because you feel bad about me being poor and a commoner and you think that a handsome rich man like you would make all my troubles disappear." venom like words followed after that. Maybe it was because you had a little bit too much to drink or you couldn't take it anymore. But whatever it was, the last few words and the actions that followed made Taemin's heart break.

"Let's call off the engagement." and the ring was placed into his hand.

__________________

Mark had picked you up from the airport and didn't question your puffy eyes or tiredness. He simply drove you home and warned your parents beforehand not to ask anything about the engagement, hearing the news from Taemin.

You slept most of the time, while awake your mind wandered to the conversation from yesterday night with his mother, feeling disgusted at yourself.

Mark had knocked on your door to let you know he was running some late-night errands and that dinner was ready but you didn't have the energy to get out of bed.

That was Christmas eve.

Christmas day was a different story.

Trying not to make the mood so down, you acted cheery in front of your parents, like nothing happened. Throughout the day that act became real, with you cracking some jokes with your father like old times, and helping your mother cook.

Mark hadn't been at home for most of the day until the three of you sat down and waited. The doorbell rang not too long after. "Y/N honey please get the door."

Grumbling, you hoped it was Mark as you were starving. But you slammed the door right away.

The man you didn't want to see, was at your front door, in your home country. Carrying a bouquet of roses. What scared you though was how similar he looked to you. Red puffy eyes as if he had been recently crying (you covered yours up with lots of concealer), and a tired expression.

"Y/N honey who was that?"

"N-no one mom." You opened the door a tiny crack and Mark fully pushed the door open, dragging Taemin inside as well.

"Mom we have a guest over."

The roses were placed in an empty pot filled with water, the silence unbearable for you.

"So Taemin, how is the business doing?" Your father tried to make small talk with the man who he had only seen a handful of times.

"It's going well sir.....I'm preparing for the next big sales for New Year's."

Your father nodded and it was silent yet again.

"Anyone up for dessert?"

_______________

Hot chocolate was given to drink in the living room, but Mark intercepted and stopped at two, signalling his parents to watch the two people who haven't spoken in a day to each other.

A day to a one-person may seem like a normal thing to others, but for these two, their new chapter had been shattered and it was only a matter of time before it was lost.

You drank your hot chocolate with questions floating all over the place.

Clearing your throat, you decided to eliminate the elephant in the room.

"Why did you co-" "I'm sorry."

Silence.

"Y/N I'm so sorry for everything. After you left, I confronted my parents and my mother told me what she said to you." That hit a nerve, as you visibly winced at the fresh memory.

Taemin continued. "For years they wanted me to have an arranged marriage with someone they liked and who was in our social circle. I was willing to agree with it until I met you. Remember when I said you were the blessing to my curse? You didn't only save me from wearing that awful shirt."

You tried to stifle a laugh and he smiled. "But you also saved me from conforming to my social norms, to be the odd one out, to follow my dreams, to know what it's like to really fall in love. And I never, ever want to lose that."

Taemin placed his hot chocolate on the table, took a deep breath and slowly went down on one knee. He took out the velvet box from his pocket and opened up to reveal the same engagement ring. Although in a different country, the lighting hits the diamond perfectly.

"Again, I know you and I don't look the best right now, but I know for sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I will make sure nothing gets in our way and I will love you unconditionally. L/N Y/N, would you do the honours of becoming my wife?"

Placing your hot chocolate down, you wiped stray tears that came out of your eyes, hugging Taemin and mumbling yes. He smiles and hugs you back, pulling away to place the ring back on your finger, where it belongs.

The both of you share a kiss, accidentally pushing the table and spilling both hot chocolates, laughing.

For a sweet romance that started with a cup of spilled hot chocolate.

#SHINee #Super M #Lee Taemin #Mark Lee #Lucas #christmas writing prompts #request 1....complete!#trash writing lol

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