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damonjuicyscock · 1 month

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Playlist- Chapter 14: Shattered dreams (90s Noel Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 90s Noel Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy, a sad word starting with M and ending with age, language, a few spelling mistakes, maybe.

Words: 2805

Summary: Y/N is pregnant with Noel's baby. We follow her through her pregnancy journey that has its up and downs.

A/N: Heya Y'all ! Here's chapter 14, I hope you'll like it, as per usual. It's a chapter I found important (but very emotional), and the next one will be as well. You know I like to include societal subjects in my story, at first to sensibilize and also give a bit of action in the story. Some of you may even have gone through it and I hope it won't trigger you, that's not my goal. My goal is to provide visibility to subjects like this one, because it isn't taken seriously (at least not enough) and to entertain you.

Next part next weekend !

Love y'all, take care of yourselves !

Enjoy !

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“And now you've given me, given me Nothing but shattered dreams, shattered dreams Feel like I could run away, run away From this empty heart”

August 11th 1996- Knebworth:

I’m pregnant Noel.

I saw his face light up, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen appear on his face.

Ye’re not joking right? Please, tell me ye’re not joking. He said, taking my hands in his

No I’m not. Should I understand you’re happy about these news? I answered, stunned

I’m the happiest man in the world! I’m so mad fer it, I’m going to be a dad!

He took me in his arms, holding me tight, and everything around us disappeared. I smiled, now relieved.

Before going on stage, Noel kissed me passionately and nailed it even more than usual. I hoped he wouldn’t say anything to anyone yet. But there’s someone to whom I couldn’t hide my condition. Because deep down, she already knew.

Seeing him sile so much and him being so happy, I bet you told him? Patsy asked

Told him what? I answered

About the baby growing in your stomach.

I smiled to myself.

Yeah, I told him. And he’s so goddamn happy about it. And so am I.

And I’m happy for you two! She said, taking me in her arms

I held her back, emotion starting to take over.

You’re going to be an auntie Patsy! I said, on the verge of tears, not believing my own words

August 12th 1996- Knebworth:

It was time for the afterparty, and I felt fit enough to attend, with Noel and a lot of people.

Please Noely, don’t tell anyone yet. I want to keep it for ourselves just a bit, okay? Except Liam. I’m going to tell him. I said

Why tell Liam and not the others?

Firstly, because he’s your brother, secondly because he’s my future brother-in-law and he’s also like my little brother and thirdly, Patsy already knows.

Wot? How does Patsy know?

Who do you think convinced me to take a pregnancy test?

Patsy.

Well done Columbo. Because she knows what it is to be pregnant. So, according to my symptoms, she knew why I was sick.

Noel nodded. I hadn’t smoked for an entire day, and I really needed a cigarette He saw me take my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and took it from me.

Hey! I exclaimed

No smoking. He said, sternly

I just can’t quit like that; it’s going to play on my nerves. Let me have a cigarette per day for a week, so I can get used to it. Please Noel, and I’ll stop.

He hesitated for a second and sighed.

Deal. One per day, not more. And I keep yer pack with me in case ye’d decide to smoke more. I’ll give ye yer cigarette of the day.

Okay chief. I said doing a military salute

Oh no, not ye too calling me that!

Later in the night, when everyone went to bed, I finally had my moment alone with my fiancé, in his arms.

Did you suspect I could be pregnant? I asked

Not a minute. I really thought you had the flu.

And so… how long has it been that you wanted to have a baby with me?

Since November 22nd 1983.

Ew, gross.

Why ew? He said, chuckling

We were literally 16 years old Noely!

I know! I mean… when we were 16, I was like not now but one day yes, I wanted to wait fer this because having a kid at 16 was out of the question, but I knew on this day that I wanted ye to be the mother to me children.

That’s cute. I’m soz I can’t say the same thing because I never really asked myself if I wanted to have children in general before yesterday.

And that’s okay. But if ye thought ‘bout it…

Yes Noely. I would want it to be you. And you’re going to be such a good dad.

At least I’ll do me best. I know what’s running in this little head of yers.

Oh yeah? What then?

Ye’re hesitating to ask me if I’m scared to be like me old man because I had a shitty father. And I’ll answer that I’m scared to become a father, like every parent would be, but I’m also mad fer it. And I’m not scared to be like him, because I’m not him and I’m not like him. And I’ll never be.

Well well… You know me by heart Noely.

Yea, I do.

At around 8 am, I woke up and felt really nauseous. I told myself I should get up and get some fresh air. So, I went outside.

I tried to breath to prevent me from vomiting but ended up throwing up anyway. I felt someone grab my hair and hold them for me. I thought it was Noel. But it wasn’t.

Still sick I see. A male voice said

Yeah, unfortunately. And it might last a bit.

What d’ye mean?

I finished throwing up first.

Sit down, we’re going to have a chat. And thank you for holding my hair by the way Li’.

Anytime.

We walked a bit and sat down under a tree, in the grass. I could see in Liam’s look that he was impatient to know.

So… what I mean is that something that wasn’t planned, at least not yet, happened. You’re going to be an uncle, Li’.

He smiled.

Really?

Yeah.

That’s so fucking cool! Oh, thank ye Y/N, I’m so happy ye’re the one our kid decided to fuck with!

I laughed.

Then thank him too!

Oh, I will, me. How long has it been?

I don’t know yet, I’ll be seeing a doctor once we’ll be back in London.

Good. I can’t wait fer this little one to show up so I can teach…

No Li’, not so soon. I laughed

Oh, ye’re not funny! He answered, rolling his eyes

August 23rd 1996- London:

We were back in London for a few days and for a gig that would take place on this night. And the only appointment I had was on this day. Noel wanted to come with me, but couldn’t miss soundcheck, and this for three reasons. Firstly, because he wanted this gig to be perfect. He always wanted to, and he could have missed an hour of it for other gigs, which leads us to reason number two: This gig would be the MTV unplugged one, meaning it would be recorded and the band worked really hard for this. Reason number three…. Liam let them down on this most important day. I had to separate the brothers who almost fought (again). Liam said he was “sick” and Noel didn’t believe it, and thought he was just hangovered, and though he didn’t mind it, he would have to do the job himself, meaning he couldn’t come with me to the appointment, and hated the fact Liam was lying and unpredictable. He wasn’t doing his job properly.

So here I was… but not alone, because Patsy didn’t want me to be alone during this important moment.

Not too stressed I hope? She asked, while we were in the waiting room

Just a bit. Not because I don’t like going to the doctor’s, I got used to it with years, but because I hope I’m not too far along, knowing I kept smoking and drinking.

You couldn’t have known. You were having your period and all that stuff…

Yes, but nausea and other symptoms should have alerted me. And yet, since I know it, my stomach just grew up and man, I look really fucking pregnant now.

She put her hand on mine.

It’s gonna be okay, I understand how you feel. I didn’t go through the same thing, but I’ve been pregnant, and I know how it feels. You’re still in shock and that’s perfectly normal. But don’t be scared. Everything will be fine.

A silence settled in. I had to get rid of a heavy load.

I’ve already been pregnant before Patsy.

She was shocked.

Really?

Yeah, a few years ago. It’s when Noel and I were separated. I was with a guy called Kenneth. He was beating me and a lot of other stuff.

Like…

Yeah, the sadly famous R word.

Oh, I’m sorry…

Don’t be. I’m fine now. I’m more than that. I’m the happiest bird in the world. I was a lot younger when it happened and not ready. Noel came back and not so long after, I was pregnant, and this baby was conceived during hard moments. Kenneth didn’t like Noel at all, he thought we were a bit too close for his taste. He was paranoid, thinking I was cheating on him, and he was taking advantage of it to take advantage of me and my body. When I told him I was expecting and that I wanted to keep the baby, he pushed me in the stairs and there was no baby anymore.

Oh my God…

And what I’m going to say is absolutely horrible to hear, but I felt sad and at the same time… relief. This child wasn’t meant to be. What could have had happened to his future with a father like Kenneth? Would he have beaten this child too? No, he was killed first. But… it was better this way. It’s as if for once… he’d protected someone from himself and especially with what happened afterwards… I know what I’m saying is absolutely horrifying but…

No. No, it isn’t. What is horrifying is what happened to you. Did you even, have time to mourn this baby?

Not at first. I had to be miss perfect, so I was like high functioning. But when Noel rescued me and the aftermath… I think that’s when I did it. A part of the depression mourned this baby. This is the biggest secret I’ve kept to myself and myself only. No one knows. Not even Noel.

And it’ll follow me to the grave. I’m so sorry and horrified you had to go through this. Noel is right when he calls you his warrior. Because this is what you are.

So yes, I lied to Noel. To protect him. I knew if I told him that he’ll run to the airport and take the first plane to Manchester to kill Kenneth. I thought about having kids before. But I stopped thinking about it since that particular day. And now, the baby I was bearing was all I wanted.

Hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time… What a fucking moving moment. I was in tears.

How… How far along am I? I asked

By the size of your baby, I’d say between 4 and 5 months. Let’s say something like 4 months and 3 weeks. And it seems like you’re having a healthy baby boy, I can already see it. Congratulations!

I was happy. All I needed to hear was said. The word healthy was ringing in my head.

I-Is it possible to print a screen shot? For me and the dad? Please?

Of course. The doctor answered, smiling

And once I had it between my hands, I couldn’t let go of it. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Examining and re-examining the little silhouette of the being that was growing in my stomach. To the point, Patsy was forced to tell me we arrived at the Royal Festival Hall. In the car, everything I was thinking about was “And now? how will he look? What name will we choose for this little one?”

I entered the building alone, as the cab left with Patsy who would be coming back to Liam. The guys were in the middle of rehearsals. The minute Noel saw me, he stopped playing and put his acoustic guitar aside before jumping off the stage and running towards me.

Tell me everything. He said, taking my hands in his

I handed him the ultrasound’s screenshot, and he took it.

I’m 4 months and 3 weeks pregnant. And…

And?

And we’re having a baby boy.

Noel jumped in joy and held me in his arms.

Guys, I’m going to be a dad and it’s a boy! He shouted

The boys cheered, happy for us. I looked at Noel, surprised.

Noel…

Soz, I couldn’t help it. And anyway, everyone can see you’re pregnant now!

Jacob!

No.

Romeo!

Out of question.

Milton?

Oh come on, don’t grandpa him yet!

Martin.

Ye can do better.

Owen.

Too American fer me.

Oh come on Noel, we have to decide! I said

Ye’re only 5 months pregnant! We’ve got time fer this!

Actually it’s 4 months and 3 weeks and the baby will be born tomorrow if we let time go by.

Nevermind.

Hey no! My baby’s name won’t go with a simple and jaded nevermind!

Alright, alright. Can I propose one?

I’m all ears.

Frederick. Like imagine, we could call him Freddie Gallagher. A rockstar’s name fer a rockstar’s son.

Noely, I love you and I love Freddie Mercury but no.

Or Simon, what d’ye think about Simon?

Cute but it sounds a bit too much like Simon Lebon. But as a second name, why not? What about Andrew?

Andrew Simon Gallagher… Andy Gallagher… Yea. Yea, actually I like it. It sounds good. Deal.

See? A nevermind can quickly become an Andy.

Oh, shut yer cake ole.

Sometimes, it feels like happiness comes with a price. And everything you were happy about and everything you had planned ends up in a shattered dream. I knew something was wrong when it was going too well.

October 12th 1996- London:

Terrible cramps woke me up. It hurt. I hadn’t felt the baby move for a few hours now. I thought he fell asleep after giving a long series of kicks. I sat on the edge of the bed. I put my hand on my belly. I knew. I felt something was wrong deep inside. Then I felt something humid between my legs. I turned the light on. I was bleeding. It wasn’t a pool, but enough to make me panic.

Noel! Noel fucking wake up I’m bleeding! I yelled

Noel woke up, startling and saw. The man never had his driver license, so he was forced to call 999, and an ambulance took us to the hospital.

I was panicking. But not for my life. And I was right to do so. The doctors made some exams, including ultrasound. This is when the biggest heartbreak of my entire life happened. I previously told you that hearing your baby’s heartbeat is really moving. Then Heartbeat turns to heartbreak. But before turning to heartbreak, it turns to fucking heartache. My baby had been suffering. He had been kicking non-stop to alert me something was wrong. And I didn’t get it. His little heart had stopped beating and It was my entire fault.

But one of the hardest things was that I had to wait. I had to wait for my fucking cervix to dilate, not to give birth but to literally expel my own son from my womb.

Noel was by my side. I didn’t want him to see this, but he didn’t want me to be alone during this hard ordeal. And then we saw why after the “delivery”. One fucking reason. But an evident one. A knot. A knot in the umbilical cord. My son died of hypoxia. This is very rare event, as not all knots are dangerous. But this one…

And it was as if my body detected our little one’s death and started to try to expel him, but he was already too big to pass.

Apart from that tragical event, he was perfect. He had no deformities. And even if he had, I would still have loved him the same.

I was devastated, and so was Noel.

I insisted to hold Andy in my arms for a few minutes, to say goodbye. Noel and I cried, for a long time. We both kissed his little head. A shattered dream and two broken hearts.

#noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher fanfic #liam and noel #noel gallagher oneshot #noel gallagher fluff #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #oasis #oasis band #britpop #90s liam gallagher #90s noel gallagher #liam gallagher x reader #Spotify

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k-6196 · 1 year

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Just an idea [Which I will write, the intro is already done ^^]

but what if there was slight crossover between the concept behind the mazes and wicked from The Maze Runner but put into a different context of it being a corporation who accidentally made a bad virus in an underground area and to find a cure they kidnapped kids and forced them to go through trials [like the The Maze]. TF 141 comes in because maybe a terrorist they’ve been tracking has ties to this corporation which eventually leads to TF 141 finding out about The Maze.

Just saying this is gonna be a long, long idea so brace urself a bit if you actually want to read it.

How do they find out? They go to the underground area thinking they can grab intel on the terrorist but instead they find out about the maze through a meeting being held.

Cue Price trying to get Laswell to help but because of how powerful and influential the corporation is her hands are tied so they have to go dark to even do anything.

Cue Gaz and Soap or some other pair from TF 141 trying to sneak into the Maze and accidentally getting trapped. Does the corporation find out? Who knows honestly. I can see it going 2 ways:

1. Corporation gave up on the kids in the maze so the kids inside are basically left to fend for themselves while the corporation finds ways to make use of them. Due to their negligence Gaz and Soap can be kept relatively hidden from them and baam you have ur escaping and angst and death and trauma and main character [it has to be a teen female lead with parental issues and bordering morally grey, why? because im projecting] helping the two to get everyone out

2. Corporation is well aware that Gaz and Soap are there so they do everything in their power to start killing the kids. And because it is a corporation they decide to not use their expensive equipment and just let the infected people and monsters loose on the kids, Gaz and Soap. Cue them fighting for their lives to get out the maze.

Also, to accompany both Price and Ghost have no fucking clue whats going on in the Maze and can’t risk contacting Gaz or Soap because if the Corporation finds out that there SAS personal know of what is happening the entire operation is fucked so they lay low.

However, our boys are not useless like majority of the men in my life so they decide to infiltrate the corporation by acting as terrorists themselves who want to be business partners.

LETS ADD MORE ANGST so because Ghostie our beloved covers his face no one can really trace him back to tf 141 unless he gives his really name so he is the one who has to go in with no mask - Cue him having multiple mental breakdowns with Price being the guy in the chair trying to make sure his Lieutenant doesn’t kill himself before their side quest has even started.

Idk i thought it’d be neat. And found family between MC and TF 141 and maybe a love interest if I feel like it.

Now the important qns:

Will i write this? Yes i will

Will this come out anytime soon? Absolutely not.

Why? I’m a a lazy bitch and have exams.

Posting schedule for this? Imma drop the entire series on yall in one go

What do I aim to gain out of this? Readers to sob like I will when writing this. Also I’m projecting and stressed and currently sick with the flu so this helps

Will the writing be horrendous? Yes, I speak three languages and am better at my Mother Tongue than I am at English + I mainly write argumentative shit so story writing is different ball game. However, I do have the love of my life Grammarly so she will help me

#tf 141 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #simon riley #ghost cod #soap cod #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #gaz cod #task force 141 #ff idea #i will write this #if its the last thing i do

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gobblewanker · 3 years

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Well. Guess who had some late night Emotions™ and wrote another drabble on that "Sherman adopts Stan and Ford when they're eight because Filbrick is the worst" story?

The room at Sherman's apartment was smaller than the one at their parents place had been. It was cramped, the singular window was poorly insulated, and the wallpaper was flaking. Almost everything in it was second hand - deeply cherished childhood toys picked up from garage sales piled in a corner, a banged up desk Sherman's college was going to throw out anyways nestled under the drafty window, an old space heater Ford had to repair nearly every winter puttering away snugly next to the drawer with it's missing handle. Everything was old and worn, but in a good, reassuring, way. Like a pair of well used shoes, slowly adjusted to it's wearer's feet and fitting far more comfortably than a new pair ever could. As far as Ford was concerned, it was infinitely more a home than the pawnshop had ever been.

Maybe that made sense though. He'd soon spent half his life there. The latter part. The better one. The one spent living in a shoddy apartment which's walls nonetheless practically oozed with love and family. The one without dad looming large like some invisible but always precent danger. The one with memories permeated by safety and stability.

Ford knew much of that stability was a carefully crafted façade, propped up on his big brother's shoulders. He'd caught on to it long before Stan, but in retrospect it was obvious. The way Sherman would skip meals so they never had to, the way he always seemed to be working overtime, all of it. It wasn't a stable situation at all. But he'd made it feel that was. Always made it seem like there was nothing to worry about. Ford and Stan had tried to help out wherever they could, doing chores when there were any and otherwise just being good and staying out of the way. It had taken a long time for the permanence of the situation to sink in. For the realization to hit that they wouldn't get sent back. That no matter what they did, Shermie wouldn't get fed up with them and cart them back to Pa.

But what if it wouldn't be up to him?

"Hey, Stan?" Ford whispered into the quiet of the dark. From the bunk under him, he heard a low grunt of affirmation.

"Yeah?" There was no trace of drowsiness in Stan's voice.

"I can't sleep."

"Tell me about it."

Ford dropped his arm over the side of the bed, letting it dangle. It didn't take more than a few seconds for Stan's hand to find it. Five fingers intertwining with six. An old gesture of reassurance. Quiet and secret, Pa wasn't big on sentimentality. That stuff was for women and crybabies. The secrecy wasn't a necessity anymore, Sherman didn't mind, but the gesture had carried them through long enough to become ingrained.

"I'm scared." Ford said. The confession came with ease. Just one of the millions that had been dispersed into the darkened bedroom over the years. Half a childhood spent.

"Me too." Stan's voice answered, drifting up from below. "Ya thinking about the war?"

Ford nodded into his pillow, before remembering Stan couldn't see him. "Yeah."

Silence descended on the room like a blanket again. Soft, but very palpable and almost suffocating.

It had been a perfectly normal day at first. When they woke up that morning, everything had been just fine. Perfectly average. You never really appreciate 'avrage' until it's threatened.

There'd been recruiters at their school, talking to the older students about war and enlistment and other things Ford wanted nothing to do with. It was something he was going to ignore. It didn't concern him. He and Stan were both too young. He'd felt a strange sense of almost invulnerability at that. So he'd just kept walking. He'd gotten caught up in an interesting discussion with his physics teacher at the end of the lesson, and was far more concerned with the fact that he was running late to meet up with Stan for lunch. But then it'd hit him with the same speed and ferocity as an oncoming freight train that while he and Stan might be in the clear, that same certainty was in no way extended to Sherman.

The closest thing to a parent they had, and an uncaring universe had just added his name to some nebulous lottery where being picked would spell tragedy.

Sherman was security, and now he might be ripped away.

Suffice to say, they hadn't gone to get food after that. Instead, the entire lunch period had been spent locked up in a bathroom stall, Stan trying his best to talk Ford down from the ensuing panic attack without becoming overwrought himself.

"What do we do, Stan?" Ford's voice was low and miserable. He'd managed to pull himself together for the entire evening, not wanting to worry Sherman. But problems always seemed much bigger in the dark, and this one was insurmountable enough in daylight.

"I donno." Stan said. "Do ya wanna go talk with 'im?"

"I don't know."

Ford went quiet again, just listening to the rumbling heater and the odd car passing by outside. If there was one thing he missed about their old room, it was the sound of the ocean. A busy road was no substitute for calming waves.

Did he want to go talk to Sherman? Yes. The sense of comfort he usually got - both of them usually got - from doing that was so deep rooted it was only surpassed by the comfort they could find in eachother. But this was about Sherman, so venting their fears with him might help. He never got upset at them for doing so, not for being 'sissies' or for keeping him up when he had work in the morning or for bothering him. The fact that they could go wake him up if they needed it was another one of those truths that had taken a long time to sink in. But after a bad bout of the flu had almost escalated to hospitalisation for both of them because they wouldn't tell Sherman they weren't feeling well they'd sat down and had a very long chat about the importance of communication. It still felt like night and day compared to Pa.

"I guess I want to go talk to him. But it feels stupid."

"You know he wouldn't see it like that." Stan's hand squeezed Ford's comfortingly.

"I know. But..."

But what? Ford wasn't sure how to articulate the issue. Not even to himself really. He wanted to go and ask for reassurance, he wanted that familiar comfort. The one that made him think of sitting up late at night being hugged and reassured through childhood stomach aches and emotional breakdowns over bullies. That strange paradoxical feeling of a miserable situation made almost... Cozy? None of those situations were ever good. The things that facilitated them hurt. But that hurt facilitated closeness and safety, and those emotions were always the ones that remained. They were good memories tinged with something bad. Or maybe bad memories overwhelmed by something good?

So yes. He wanted that. He wanted to make a good memory out of this hurt.

But that felt selfish.

The situation was horrible. Horrible to the point where trying to make something good, however miniscule, come out of it almost felt like it'd be disrespectful. Making light of something that should stay dark. That should hurt, and only hurt.

"Ford? Ya still awake?"

Ford breathed shakily through his nose. Trying to stop his voice from wavering the way he just knew it would.

"I want to go talk to him. But it feels wrong."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to- I don't-" Ford paused, focusing on breathing again. Intellectually, he knew he didn't have the keep the emotions tapped down. Another lesson Sherman had worked hard to drill into them. It was okay to cry and dad was an asshole for demanding they don't. But he still didn't want to. It still felt somehow weak. Shameful. "I want to go, I want to make it feel better, but I also don't want to make it feel better because it hurts and it should. It should hurt. It's awful."

Stan remained quiet for another few seconds. Usually he had no qualms about blurting out whatever came to his mind, but maybe this situation required more thought.

"Let me get this straight... The reason you don't want to go and talk to Shermie is because ya want to be upset?"

Ford didn't know if that was it or not. He couldn't make heads or tails of his own emotions. They felt huge and overwhelming, too big to fit inside him but also too big to unravel and understand. Like a nest of gigantic snakes all tangled up in eachother, chaotic and confused, hissing and biting itself.

"It's bad. It's so bad that trying to make it good feels wrong." He didn't know if that was it either.

Stan let go of his hand, and Ford instantly mourned the loss of contact. Comfort? Wasn't comfort what he didn't want? He was so confused, he just wanted everything to make sense. He lifted the corner of his t-shirt to wipe at his stinging eyes as Stan's face appeared over the side of the bed.

"Ford... Look, it's okay to let things hurt, but it's also okay to make them hurt less." Stan looked at him intensely. Ford felt himself becoming even more choked up at the scrutiny. "No, seriously. It's like... Like breaking a leg, right? Remember that time in fourth grade when you did that?"

Ford nodded, slightly unsure what this had to do with anything.

"It hurt, and it's okay that it hurt. It made sense that it hurt, and you don't pretend like it doesn't. But just because it makes sense that it hurts doesn't mean it was bad that you got painkillers and a cast. Without that junk it wouldn't have healed right."

That... He supposed that might be a valid analogy. Maybe Stan had a point.

"So... You think we should go?"

"Are you going to feel any better if we don't?"

Ford considered for a moment, still warring with the conflicting emotions twisting his stomach all up in knots. But he thought maybe it was slightly less. Shaking his head, he excavated himself from the nest of blankets and clambered down the ladder. Moving through the darkened apartment and arriving to knock at their brother's door as they'd done so many times before.

In the end, it did help. Sitting huddled together on the bed in the dark until the sun began to rise and the fear crept away with the shadows. Until it felt safe enough to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that everyone would still be there come morning. The situation was large and looming and firmly out of their control. That much didn't change. They couldn't decide how things would end, but they could decide how they would cope. And they would cope.

Together.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #sherman pines #fanfic #not art #tw vietnam war #this is pretty much me trying to make sense of my own emotions by writing #so sorry if it's a bit stream-of-conciousness-ish #shermie adoption au

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asthmark · 4 years

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❝ 10 things i know about you ❞ l.jn

synopsis → there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

request → “if you're still accepting requests, can u make a domestic roommate!jeno? 🥺🥺 thank you and have a nice dayyy”

word count → 7.1k (bruhhh)

sharing an apartment with lee jeno isn’t ideal.

it’s not that he’s a lousy roommate or that you disliked him in any way; you just didn’t know him. you had first met through a mutual friend. they knew jeno was looking for someone to split rent with and that you happened to need a place to stay. they promised you he would give you privacy and assured jeno you were excellent roommate material. with that, arrangements were made and soon enough you moved in together. of course, it was a bit awkward at first but you two eventually got used to each other’s presence. although you were never in the same room for too long and oftentimes went days without speaking, you coexisted.

for a long time, you only knew a couple things about your roommate. for example, you were aware of his strong love for cats, especially his pet calico, seol. you also knew he kept the freezer stocked with pizza rolls that he would use as energy when he stayed up all night playing video games.

what you didn’t know, however, was that you would be spending the next couple months locked in your apartment with him. on top of that, you would begin to learn more things about him—his life, his personality, his feelings.

there are ten important things you learn about lee jeno during your time in quarantine.

1. he’s a heavy sleeper.

at 10:28 in the morning you find yourself seated at the dining table in the kitchen, spooning froot loops into your mouth. as you stuff your face, you scroll through your phone for entertainment. you decide to open instagram first but you quickly find that to be a mistake. as soon as you open the app a picture of lucas and who you thought was his ex-girlfriend greets you. if that was bad, the caption hits you like a ton of bricks.

@lucas_xx444: should have never left you

in only five words, lucas has completely erased the months you spent dating. it meant nothing to him. sure, things hadn’t ended things the best way but going right back to his toxic ex and even admitting to missing her—now that was a new low. was this his way of getting back at you? his way of making you hurt just like he had throughout your entire relationship? the thought alone leaves you feeling sick.

you decide you’ve already had enough social media for one morning so you decide to check your messages instead. your friends usually left a couple of them overnight. to your surprise, you find that your main group chat has accumulated 241 messages.

[10:48 am] you: good morning i see u guys have been vry chatty

[10:49 am] yeji: ur finally awake!

[10:50 am] yuna: we thought u died lol

[10:50 am] lia: YUNA

[10:50 am] lia: NO

[10:51 am] ryujin: the timing for that joke could not be worse

[10:52 am] yuna: humor is my coping mechanism leave me alone

[10:52 am] you: ??? what happened

[10:53 am] chaeryeong: we left msgs for a reason dummy read them!!

[10:53 am] you: umm there’s over 200 and im not abouta read all that

[10:54 am] yuna: well then lemme break it down

[10:54 am] yuna: the world is ending :)

[10:55 am] you: welp it was about time

[10:55 am] lia: why r u guys like this

[10:56 am] yeji: there’s been a covid-19 outbreak and it’s spreading like wildfire so the government issued a stay at home order :/

[10:57 am] you: omg WHAT

[10:57 am] ryujin: ikr it’s crazy we literally can’t go anywhere

[10:57 am] chaeryeong: and we can’t get boba today either ;( i was so looking forward to that

[10:58 am] ryujin: let’s pls take a moment of silence for all the current and future boba dates that will have to be cancelled

[10:59 am] yuna: no way am i gonna let some wannabe flu make me go boba-less i’m still going out >:(

[10:59 am] lia: ...ur joking right

[10:59 am] yeji: what color casket do u want yuna?

before the groupchat can distract you any further, you place your phone down on the table. you sit back in your chair and let the newly revealed information sink in.

you were stuck inside.

you sigh before standing to clean your dishes. as you’re scrubbing away at your bowl, you feel something brush against your leg. you smile, not even having to look down to know it was seol. the cat would often wander into your room or sleep next to you when you watched tv on the couch. in fact, you were pretty sure you spent more time with seol than his owner.

you gaze at jeno’s room. as always, the door is shut. you wonder if you should let him know what was happening. you two usually kept your distance but you figured that the circumstance you found yourself in was an exception. you quickly dry your hand and shuffle towards his room.

you knock once, quite softly. you assume he’s asleep so you try again, this time a little harder. still, no avail. the third time you put even more force into it. by this time, seol has found his way beside you and claws at the door.

“jeno?” you knock a fourth time. “jeno! lee jeno!”

after more shouting accompanied by incessant meowing, you hear some muffled movement. moments later the door knob twists open and there stands your roommate with disheveled hair and a robe that had obviously just been thrown on his body. seol has taken the open crack in the door as an invitation inside the bedroom.

jeno blinks a couple times as he watches the feline get himself comfortable on his bed. he turns back to you, looking slightly disoriented. you’re not sure if he’s half asleep or your sudden presence has thrown him for a loop. his voice comes out raspy when he asks, “was he, um, bothering you or something?”

you shake your head, vigorously. “that’s not why i came. it’s just that my friends told me that there’s been some kind of virus outbreak and we’re supposed to stay home. so, i thought i’d let you know.”

his face softens. “oh, cool.” suddenly, the look changes. “not the virus thing! that’s totally not cool. i meant, it’s cool that you let me know and stuff. you just saved me a huge freak out so, uh, thank you.”

you smile and nod. “no problem.”

jeno’s eyes linger as you retreat back into your room down the hall. the sound of his door shutting is heard only once you’re out of his eyesight.

2. he can cook better than you.

most of the time, you would go out to eat dinner with your friends in the evenings or at least stop by a drive thru. obviously, this was no longer possible in the midst of a pandemic. you found that to be incredibly frustrating as you sat on your bed, stomach empty. no matter how badly you wished to fix it, your laziness had gotten the best of you. apart from that, you already knew how unlucky you were when it came to cooking—the memory of burning noodles at lia’s house one night had been permanently seared into your brain.

you almost believe your mind is playing tricks on you when you catch a whiff of pasta in the air. for a moment you think it’s your next door neighbor, taeyong, cooking again. you knew he was quite the chef. but, the smell is getting stronger by the second and you decide it must be in your apartment.

you wander into the kitchen, only to find jeno standing over the stove. he’s stirring red sauce in a pot when he notices you watching him.

“oh, hey,” he greets with a polite wave.

you can only stare at the rest of the kitchen—pots, pans, and ingredients all over the place—in utter awe.

he chuckles, awkwardly. “yeah, sorry about the mess. i’ve been told i’m a decent cook but i can never seem to get the tidiness down.”

“no, it’s not that. this just all seems so... professional.” you sniff the air once more. “smells amazing, too.”

he smiles, sheepishly. “thanks. are you a fan of spaghetti?”

you nod.

“good. i wanted to make something you’d like.”

“you really didn’t have to,” you say, leaning against the fridge. “i mean, i’ve never done anything for you.”

he uncovers a pot to check on the pasta. you watch as hot steam rises out of it. “what about this morning?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that most certainly does not count. you’re making an entire meal. that takes a lot of effort.”

he waves a hand, dismissively. “i used to cook a lot with my old roommate, doyoung. the guy was an asian gordon ramsey, i swear. so, yeah, this is nothing too crazy. and i really do enjoy it.”

“well, i’m still gonna repay you.” you fold your arms.

he looks away from his dish to raise a brow. “is that so?”

you nod in confirmation. “definitely.”

“tell you what, if you wash the mountain of dishes that are gonna be left over, we’ll be even.”

you stare at the sink that’s already overflowing with dirty kitchen tools. that wasn’t even half of it. “uh, sure, sounds good.”

he laughs at hearing the uncertainty in your voice. “that’s the spirit.”

3. he’s allergic to cats.

the familiar sound of soft purring is what pulls you attention away from the movie playing on your laptop. already knowing exactly who it is, you launch yourself off your bed to allow your furry guest inside.

“hey seol. what’ve you been up to?”

the calico meows, almost as if he were responding to your question. you close your door and go back to your original position. you notice seol sitting directly in front of your bed, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“come on up.” you pat your sheets, invitingly.

he obeys and stretches before laying down beside you.

“have you ever watched ‘avengers’?” you ask, eyes going back to the explosive fight scene on the screen.

this time, seol doesn’t even bother humoring you with a meow. he stays silent with his head tucked into his paws.

you scratch his head and his tail wiggles. “i’ve gotta stop asking you questions.”

both you and seol’s heads snap towards the door when you hear a knock.

“come in!” you call out.

jeno swings open the door. his eyes briefly scan the room before landing on the furball on your bed. the unmistakable look of adoration shines in his eyes when he sees how lovingly you caress him.

“seol! what are you doing in here? bothering y/n?” the cat jumps off your bed and towards his owner standing in your doorway. jeno scoops him into his arms and faces you. “i’m so sorry. he saw me running a bath for him and bolted.”

“it’s all good. he’s a great movie buddy. besides, i could always use the company.”

jeno curiously glances at your computer screen. “is that ‘avengers’?”

“yep. i’ve seen it like a dozen times.”

“same here.“ he pauses. “hey, if you ever need a movie buddy—like you know, one that talks—just let me know.”

your face lights up. “i’m gonna hold you to that.”

”i hope so. well, if you’ll excuse me, i’ve gotta give this guy a bath.”

seol yowls as if he understands the meaning behind the words and attempts to escape jeno’s grip.

“here we go again,” he mumbles under his breath.

you snicker at the sight. “looks like you could use some help.”

“oh, no. it’s fine. he can just be a little bratty someti—seol!”

in the blink of an eye, the feline has successfully hopped out of his arms and made a run for it.

jeno gives you an exasperated look before rushing off to catch his runway pet. you find yourself caught up in the excitement so you follow him, the two of you now in pursuit of the calico. you’re sure the image of you both chasing the fluffy animal around the apartment looks like something straight out of a comedy. even you and jeno can’t contain your laughter when he finally catches seol only for him to slip out of his hold a second later. this exact situation repeats itself a couple times before you finally get lucky.

“i got him!” you screech. “jeno! oh my god! what do i do?”

“bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!” he chants in response.

you head in that direction with jeno trailing behind you, ready to catch seol if he somehow manages to get out of your death grip. you bend over the bathtub, slowly lowering the cat into the water. it’s clear he doesn’t have a problem with making a fuss as he wails and flails his limbs around.

after a while, he finally calms down enough that you can lather him in shampoo. jeno insists on scrubbing him, arguing that you had already done way too much. you sit back on your heels, observing the way the seol leans into his delicate touches.

“looks like he likes it now.”

“he likes to make a big deal but he ends up enjoying it every—“ jeno cuts himself off with a sneeze.

“tissue?” you offer.

he shakes his head. “that’s okay, thanks. i’m used to it. i’m just surprised my allergies haven’t acted up ‘til now.”

“allergies?” you echo.

“yeah, i’m allergic to—“ another sneeze. “cats.”

your eyes widen. “really? and you still have seol?”

“i could never get rid of him. he’s too good of a boy. isn’t—“ sneeze. “that right?” he tickles seol under his chin.

“wow. you must really love him.”

“so much.”

“he’s lucky to have you.”

“what about you? you get both of us. doesn’t that make you the luckiest?”

you snort. “i guess it does.”

4. he makes a good shopping buddy.

“i have officially cooked everything we have.”

“i can order some takeout, if you want?”

he juts his lower lip out and gives you puppy eyes. “but i like to cook for you.”

you laugh at his expression. “oh god, you look like that one pouty emoji people use when they try to be cute.”

he sits up. “did it work?”

you nod and pinch his cheek.

he yelps. “ah, stop! you’re acting like my grandma!” he manages to get out of your grasp. he rubs his face, soothing the spots you had squeezed. “seriously, though, we really do need to stock up on food.”

“i’ve already been looking into it.” you show him the screen of your phone. “says here you can still go shopping as long as you wear a mask and try to stay six feet away from other shoppers.”

he cringes. “i don’t know if i like the idea of being so close to so many people.”

“i can go by myself, then,” you suggest with a shrug.

he doesn’t hesitate to deny you. “no way are you going alone.” his possessive tone has you staring at him curiously so he adds, “you know, in case you can’t reach something on the top shelf.”

the teasing comment paired with his innocent smile makes you gasp in disbelief. “lee jeno! that’s low! and to think i almost thought you were worried about me.”

“who said i wasn’t?” he smiles at you again before standing up. “i’m going to find us some masks and then we can head out.”

once you arrive at your local grocery store, you find it to be packed. everyone seems to be in a hurry, grabbing things left and right.

“wow, it’s already gotten crazy,” jeno mumbles, stopping to stare at the flood of people that rush by.

you don’t hesitate to scold him. “well, don’t just stand there! we gotta get our stuff before there’s nothing left!”

without another word you slip into the frenzy of people. jeno struggles to stay behind you. after almost losing sight of you a couple times, he walks a little faster to catch up and places his arm firmly around your waist once he does. you look up at him, your mask covering your slightly agape mouth.

being the gentleman he is, he apologizes. “sorry but i don’t want us to get separated.”

you can only nod and mumble, “good idea.”

jeno pushes the shopping cart with his right hand and holds your figure with his left. once in a while, you’ll break apart from each other to grab an item you need but once it’s in the cart, he’ll make sure you end up in the same position. after an hour or so, you’ve grabbed enough and you decide it’s time to pay.

despite the mask she has on, you can tell the middle-aged woman behind the cash register has a big smile on her face once she catches sight of you and your roommate.

“well, just look at you two.” she sighs. “how cute.”

“oh.” you glance at her then jeno then her again. “oh, no. it’s not like that.”

you attempt to move yourself away from jeno only to find his grip to be so incredibly strong that you almost begin to think he’s trying to hold you in place. once you finally detach yourself from him, you begin loading your groceries onto the counter for the employee to scan. she does so, but not before giving you a displeased look.

“oh really? he holds you like that because you aren’t together?”

jeno assists her in placing the scanned items in bags. “i didn’t want to lose her.”

she pauses scanning a can of tuna to stare him down. “darling, that sounds like a line from a cheesy hallmark rom-com.”

you can’t help but chuckle. “what he means is that there’s a lot of people here and we didn’t want to get separated.”

jeno adds, “desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

the woman adjusts her glasses. “well, you do certainly seem desperate to have her close to you.”

jeno doesn’t say a word as he continues bagging but his smile reaches his eyes.

5. he works out.

why did the pandemic have to hit in the middle of summer?

you often asked yourself this, complaining about how inconvenient it was. especially on the days that made your apartment feel like it was on fire. the days that required a thin tank top and shorts. even then, you found yourself to be drenched in sweat.

you sprawled your arms and legs farther on the sofa, the leather material proving to be very uncomfortable. it was either that or your bed with the warm cotton sheets that stuck to your body. just thinking about it brings you discomfort. the only relief you could think of was a cold shower. you would have already taken one if jeno hadn’t been hogging the one bathroom in the apartment.

“jeno!” you yell.

silence; other than the sound of the water running.

“lee jeno!”

the water stops, temporarily for him to shout back an answer. “what?!”

you wipe at the sweat that has accumulated on the bridge of your nose. “hurry up! i’m melting!”

the water starts back up again and you groan. hoping to distract yourself, you pull out your phone. the group chat with your friends is surprisingly silent so you go to instagram for some entertainment. this time, your ex-boyfriend’s post isn’t the first thing you see. it takes you some scrolling but you do end up seeing another one of his pictures.

it’s simply two intertwined hands with a black and white filter. you identify the one on the left as his and although you aren’t as familiar with the one on the right, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it belongs to. contrary to the last, this photo has no cheesy words for a caption, just a red heart.

but, your stomach doesn’t drop. you don’t feel hurt, either. obviously, you still don’t enjoy seeing him just because of all the awful memories that came with it but other than that, you feel unaffected by the image.

in fact, you feel so confident in yourself that you block him.

you’re surprised you hadn’t done it sooner. you had known you didn’t need him in your life any longer so why keep in contact? you feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders when you press the red button that would keep him and his girlfriend out of your life. you knew with your whole heart that you didn’t need to see either of them.

before, a bit if you had felt the need to keep an eye on him. to see how he was handling the breakup and torture yourself with the fact that he didn’t seem to care. now, you could say you truly didn’t either. you didn’t need him or his stupid pictures. you had other, better things.

your friends.

your cat (yes, you considered seol to be yours).

your roommate.

you had to admit, jeno was the best thing on that list. quarantine had brought you and him significantly closer and you were over the moon about it. he was so wonderful that you kicked yourself for having lived with him for so long without ever really getting to know him. but it was easy to say you two were making up for lost time seeing as you spent every waking moment together. the record long showers jeno took being an exception, of course.

the moment the door to the bathroom opens, you rush into your room and quickly grab an oversized t-shirt and loose pajama pants to change into after your shower. you nearly drop them when you’re met with jeno’s soaking figure in the hallway.

his hair is damp and you can clearly see how long it had become. his skin looks healthy and moisturized, lotion among other skin care products had probably been applied. what really has you in a shock is the fact that the towel barely hangs below his waist. the droplets of water that fall from his hair and down his neck trail down his chest and toned torso towards the only area he has bothered to cover up. his bulky arms are also slightly wet, his veins popping noticeably. he shakes his head in an attempt to rid his hair of any water. then he runs his fingers through it, his muscles flexing ever so slightly as he does so.

“dude!” you exclaim, without a second thought. “you’re ripped!”

he smiles, his round cheeks growing at the unexpected praise. the way he could have such a rugged body but soft-featured face puzzled you to no extent. “thank you. i lift sometimes.”

“sometimes?” you repeat. “don’t be so humble! you’re basically hercules!”

he clicks his tongue. “ah, c’mon. i’m just an athletic person.”

you keep admiring his physique. “clearly.”

“oh god,” he groans, obviously flustered. “you’re looking at me like you’re gonna eat me or something.”

you hold yourself back from making a less than appropriate innuendo. “no comment.”

his eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “quarantine is really making you go crazy.”

you point a finger at him. “you try being stuck inside with your hot roommate!”

“trust me, y/n, i know all about hot roommates.”

you tilt your head, acting purposefully oblivious. “are you talking about doyoung?”

“what? no i—“ he sighs. “you know what, just take your shower.”

6. you can’t say no to him.

jeno ruffles his black locks with his hand and frowns.

you give him a disappointed look. “knock it off, you’re gonna get dandruff in your soup.”

he ignores your comment. “i look like a hobo.”

you pause, spoon halfway to your mouth. “this i know.”

“y/n, this is serious!”

“okay, okay. what’s the issue?”

“i already told you! i’m a bum!”

“you? a bum?” you pause to think about it. “i mean, mentally? maybe. but physically? no.”

“my hair, though. it’s so long.” he grabs a strand of it and pulls it to emphasize his point.

you shrug. “if having lots of hair is the standard for being a bum, i think most of the population is.”

“i want to cut it,” he announces.

“you should,” you say, pointing your spoon at him. “wanna know why? because if you mess up, no one will ever know. other than me, of course. but if you pay me enough i’ll let you forget it.”

he smiles at the joke for a moment before he leans forward and his face goes serious. “will you help me?”

“what? no way. i’ll mess up. and it’s only funny if you do it.”

he pouts. “please?”

you stir your soup around. “just watch some youtube videos. after three, you’re automatically a professional.”

“i want you.”

the statement has your neck snapping up from your bowl to him. the smug grin on his face lets you know that he was well aware of the double meaning behind his words. it was clear he was trying to fluster you enough to get a yes.

“you think you’re flirty enough to straight up brainwash me into doing stuff?”

“well, i wanted to say that to you anyway but... kind of?”

you feel a smile creep onto your lips at hearing the genuine tone in his voice. you down your last few spoonfuls of soup and quickly stand up. jeno looks up at you, eyes hopeful.

“finish your dinner. get the scissors. meet me in the bathroom.”

not even ten minutes later, jeno practically dances into the bathroom, a pair of red craft scissors in his hand. he sits on top of the toilet lid, figuring that’d be the easiest way for you to reach him. you walk in moments later.

“i’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be using these types of scissors for hair,” he mumbles as he hands you the sharp utensil.

you twirl them in your hand. “oh, definitely not. do you want to wait then?”

he shakes his head, his shaggy bangs swaying with the movement.

“alright, let’s get this going then.” you thread your hands through his thick locks to collect some of it in between two of your fingers. you bring the scissors forward and snip the small amount just to test the waters.

you slowly begin to get more comfortable and once you feel like you’re in your element, things begin to speed up. you move and cut faster but with efficiency. you do the spots on the back of his head and work your way forward. when it finally comes time to touch up his bangs, your small bathroom proves to be an inadequate spot to be doing this.

you end up standing balanced inches above jeno’s thighs that he’s pressed together tightly in an attempt to give you more room. you’re constantly readjusting your stance and when he notices, his hands go to your hips. you know he’s just trying to help you stay upright so you do a decent job but you still inhale sharply at the feeling of his hands on you.

not long after, you’re standing next to jeno as he inspects himself in the mirror. his fingers flick his newly shortened bangs around.

“not bad.” he tilts his head in a new angle and nods. “looks super good to me.”

you tuck the scissors into your back pocket with a relieved sigh. “oh thank god. i didn’t want to tell you before we started but i only watched two youtube tutorials on trimming hair.”

he runs a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “now that’s truly worthy of praise. and a tip.”

you raise a brow. “oh yeah? what’s th—“

he cuts you off by pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. he pulls back and drags his thumb over the skin that has come into contact with his lips. “thanks again.” with that, he leaves you standing in the bathroom, eyes wide and face warm.

7. he has six best friends.

“can i borrow your laptop?” asks jeno, from outside your door, nearly breathless.

you look up from your book. “uh yeah, sure.”

he rushes in your room and takes the item off of your dresser. “do you happen to have zoom on it?”

you shake your head and he groans. without another word, he disappears, running off into the living room. you hear his frustrated sighs as the minutes pass and he attempts to download the application. you finally decide to go check it out once it becomes too much to bear.

“it sounds like you’re in pain over here,” you comment.

he runs a hand through his hair. “i’m supposed to meet with my friends through a zoom call but it’s so complicated.”

you put a hand on your hip. “bet you five bucks i’ll be able to get it in five minutes.”

“are you kidding? i might be technologically challenged but i’m not stupid. i know you can do it fast, just help me out already, would you?”

“alright, grandpa.”

you type and click away at the screen, jeno watching you do so, entranced but equally as lost.

“well, i was wrong,” you say after a couple moments, leaning back in your chair.

“you couldn’t get it?” asks jeno, worriedly.

“no, it’s not that.” you click something on the screen and the app opens. “turns out i could do it in three.”

he rolls his eyes and shoos you out of the chair. he sits down and enters the code and password for the zoom meeting. it takes a minute, but he finally connects. you count six other people in the call. they all immediately cheer at seeing jeno and you hear them excitedly exclaim his name.

“hey guys,” he says, a smile already reaching his eyes. “it’s so good to see your faces.”

they all nod to agree. you get a good look at each one of them and realize they’re all boys. your eyes read over each of their display names.

mark me in ur heart

hyuckie~~~

moomin enthusiast

nananananana

chnele

lil huddy

“nice name, jeno,” ‘moomin enthusiast’ guy comments, snickering slightly. “glad to see you finally came to terms with it.”

‘jenojam’, his name reads. the rest of the group laughs, also teasing him about it. you assume it’s some kind of inside joke.

the self proclaimed ‘lil huddy’ furrows his eyebrows. “wait, did you choose that name yourself?”

jeno simply nods in response.

he glares into the camera. “donghyuck, you told me i had to put this as my name or else it wouldn’t let me connect!”

donghyuck—or ‘hyuckie~~~’, you presume—shrugs. “oops. guess i was wrong.”

you laugh at the humorous exchange. it seems like the sound has drawn some attention to you when ‘nananananana’ speaks up, eyes trained on you.

“um jeno? don’t you want to introduce your guest?”

jeno beams, dragging you closer into the frame. “i’m sure you all know about my roommate. say hi, y/n.”

you do so, waving and smiling politely at the group.

“you know, even though we used to always hang at jeno’s, i don’t think we’ve ever actually seen your face,” ‘chnele’ says, tilting his head.

you agree. “me neither. i’ve mostly just heard you guys.”

the ‘mark me in your heart’ boy sheepishly rubs his neck. “sorry. we tend to be a little loud.”

‘chnele’ lets out a high pitched screech of a laugh. “only a little?”

“i recognize that laugh!” you blurt. “i would hear it all the time!”

”that’s our little dolphin,” coos ‘hyuckie~~~’.

“oh god, stop. i hate that stupid nickname.”

“it’s well deserved.”

“i think you should apologize to y/n for being a nightmare to her eardrums.”

“and ours, for that matter.”

“what about all your little freestyles? i’ve had to sit through hundreds of them and i never got an apology!”

“because they’re not bad! could you do any better?”

“you’re a soundcloud rapper, i think anyone could.”

jeno turns to you as the bickering on screen gets louder and louder. “this is gonna be a long call.”

once the group has moved on from roasting the life out of each other, you’re able to engage in some good-natured conversation. jeno teaches you the names and the other basics about the group. some points that stand out about the group is that mark is the oldest, renjun specializes in contemporary dance, jaemin inhales six cups of coffee on the daily, and chenle is insanely rich.

“what about jeno?” you ask them. “anything i should know about him?”

“he’s allergic to cats but the idiot still adopted—“

“she already knows about that, renjun,” jeno chuckles.

“oh. well. that’s pretty much the only interesting thing about him.”

jisung pipes up. “oh wait! he works out religiously too!”

you and jeno share a look. you burst into laughter and he simply glances away, slightly embarrassed. “oh yeah, i know that all too well.”

“and what about the unhealthy cooking obsession?”

you nod at mark’s question. “that too. he cooks dinner almost every night around here.”

renjun purses his lips. “he already cooks for you? wow. he must really like you.”

“you think?” jaemin asks. “didn’t you read any of the messages in the group chat? he’s practically in love with her. his words, not mi—“

“okay! i think it’s time for us to go! bye guys!” jeno doesn’t even give you a chance to say your own goodbye before he’s clicking the ‘end call’ button in the bottom right corner.

you give him a confused look. “what was that all about?”

“they’re crazy.” he laughs. “well, if you need me i’ll be in my room screaming into my pillow for the next couple hours.” he dashes off leaving you standing alone, trying to comprehend what had happened.

8. he‘s a great listener.

jeno has officially replaced seol as your movie buddy, not that you have a problem with it. you thought it was nice to have someone you could actually converse with but of course, you make sure seol still sits in.

“what i’m saying is that iron man just wants to protect his team.”

“well, if they sign the accords, they basically surrender themselves to the government.”

“and?”

“you don’t see a problem with that? see, captain america knows what he’s doing. he’s literally an avenger—“

“so is iron man!”

“let me finish! so, he’s an avenger, right? he has the best judgment because he’s saved the world countless times. he knows how to operate his team and do the right thing.”

“okay but there’s casualties. and that’s what iron man is trying to fix.”

“how do you save the world and not have casualties?”

“you just—“ your phone rings mid argument and you raise your finger towards jeno. “this isn’t over.” you put the phone to your ear, not bothering to check the caller id. “hello?”

“sweetheart?”

you feel a chill go up your spine. was it him? no, it couldn’t be. you had blocked his number shortly after you did so on all your social media.

“baby, don’t be so shy. i know you’re there.”

you can’t hold back. “please don’t call me that.”

he chuckles, breathlessly. “oh, c’mon. you used to love it. you still do.”

“no, i don’t. actually, i don’t want to hear your stupid pet names or stupid voice or see any of your stupid posts. just go bother your girlfriend and leave me alone.”

you notice jeno perk up beside you out of the corner of your eye. he must have been caught off guard by your irritated tone.

as always, lucas is unaffected by you. “i’m being nice and giving you a second chance. i even called you behind soyeon’s back.”

“is that something i’m supposed to reward you for?” you scoff. “congratulations, you’re now awful, toxic, and a cheater.”

he growls. the sound was familiar. in your relationship, if you heard it you knew he was going to snap at you until he had the satisfaction of making you cry. “i know you miss me so don’t say things you’re going to regret later. because even when you’re back in my arms, i won’t let you forget it.”

the thought of being back with him made you feel icky. but the fact that he sincerely thought you would crawl back to him set your entire body on fire. “are you joking? i was always aware of the fact that you treated me like the dirt you walked on but do you seriously think that lowly of me?”

you’re rendered speechless and apparently, so is he because the other line stays silent.

“i wouldn’t go back to you if you were the last person on earth,” you spit. “you treated me horribly, wong yukhei. i won’t ever forget it. move on. i have.”

you glance at jeno, his expression more serious than you’ve ever seen it. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are trained on your cellphone. the glare he gives the device is so strong you wouldn’t be surprised if even lucas could feel it, wherever he was.

you hang up and block the number, wishing to never talk to him again. you toss your phone onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh. you find jeno’s gaze to still be focused intensely on it.

“if you gave lucas that look, i’m pretty sure he’d cry.”

he breaks his concentration, eyes going to you instead. his entire face softens. “all i’m going to say is he better pray we never cross paths.”

“well, if you happen to, call me up. i wouldn’t mind helping you beat the crap out of him.”

jeno chuckles for a second then lowers his voice to a whisper. “he was really bad to you, huh?”

you nod. “he messed me up. i hate to admit it ‘cause i know i was stupid to stay with him for as long as i did.”

your roommate shakes his head. “don’t say that. it’s not your fault he messed up the best thing that would ever happen to him.”

“i thought i was the problem for so long, jeno. i was so blinded by love. then, i realized there was no way he truly cared for me when he treated me like i had no heart to be broken.”

jeno scoots towards you and rubs soothing circles into your arm. “you have such a big heart. and i can’t tell you how sorry i am that he took advantage of that. i’m sorry that you were stuck with someone so insecure and ignorant. please, don’t think about him anymore.”

you hold in your tears. you refused to cry over someone like lucas. “i know. i try so hard not to.”

jeno holds your head into his chest. his arms are placed securely on your back. “oh, baby.”

when jeno uses this pet name on you, it feels so completely different from lucas. you could tell me meant it. he wasn’t using it to make you stay a little longer, to assure you he loved you. strangely enough, you do not need to be convinced of that. you feel like you have known it for a long time.

9. he likes to be the big spoon.

you’re not sure how he’s done it but you end up falling asleep in jeno’s arms. you assume it had been so long since you had been cradled and rocked so delicately that the foreign yet extremely delightful sensation knocked you right out. even seol is deep in sleep, laying down peacefully at your feet.

you relish in the feeling of jeno pressed right into your back. he fits so perfectly against you that it reminds you of a puzzle piece. to be exact, the moment when you connect the last two pieces and the full picture becomes complete. that was how you felt—complete.

with jeno’s soft breaths tickling the back of your neck and his soft snores filling your ear, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. his arm that is wrapped around you makes sure you can’t escape his embrace. you are positive that even if you had the liberty of doing so, you would stay exactly where you were.

you lean farther back into your pillow, closing your eyes. you let every thought fade away as you try to fall back asleep as soon as possible. you wanted the moment you found yourself in to last as long as possible.

10. he has feelings for you.

jeno mumbles sweet nothings into your ear as he toys with your hair.

it just seemed right to him. like something he was meant to do with you. he had seen these types of things in films and shows before. it was intimate and touching, the scenes were always meant to tug at the audience’s heart strings and show how in love the two characters were. perhaps, even though you lay asleep in his arms, he wants you to finally know.

“honestly, being inside with you all the time is kind of the best. i know the whole virus situation is less than ideal but being able to spend so much time with you... that’s all i could ask for.” he pauses. “isn’t it so crazy how before this we were all weird and awkward around each other? well, i guess we still kind of are. that’s mostly my fault so... sorry. i just don’t know how to act around you sometimes. we’re barely getting close and i’m already this attached to you. as jisung would so kindly say, ‘i’m simping’.” he chuckles to himself. “all jokes aside, i really do like you. ever since you moved in here all cute and nervous, you’ve taken your own little place in my heart, as cheesy as it sounds. and these past few weeks, you just keep on taking up more and more room in there. not that i have a problem with it. i just...” he stops as if he doesn’t know how else to express his feelings. “really, really like you.”

“thanks.”

you feel him jolt then abruptly stop stroking your hair. there’s silence until he asks, “you don’t happen to be a sleep talker, do you?”

you shake your head.

“and did you hear like, a lot of what i said?”

“only the important stuff. like how awkward you are and how much you like me.”

“o-oh.”

“but don’t worry. it’s mutual.”

you feel his relieved breath hit the skin of your neck. “that’s the best thing i’ve heard all day.”

you tilt your head back and stare at him, confused. “what, did you seriously think i wasn’t into you?”

he shrugs. “i was too busy simping, i guess.”

you can’t contain your laughter at the use of the slang. “park jisung would not be proud.”

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agustdakasuga · 3 years

Text

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 10

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

It seems that as you get closer to the boys, the more they open up to you. That’s also when you realise just how much they actually left out of their supposedly honest profiles.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

*BANG*

“What-” The door opened and soon, there was fast padding against your carpeted ground. Another body dove under the cover and curled itself next to yours. You blinked, sitting up immediately.

“Who...” You lifted the blanket to see who the quivering figure was.

“J-Jimin?! What are you doing here?” That was when you stopped, feeling the warmth that he was radiating onto your thigh. Throwing the covers back, Jimin hugged himself and you touched his forehead and cheeks. Reaching into your nightstand, you grabbed your thermometer, turning it on and sticking it into Jimin’s ears.

“You’re running a high fever!” You saw his temperature. Jimin shivered, grabbing your blanket to wrap himself up.

“Chim, can you hear me?” You called.

“C-Cold...” He stuttered. You got out of bed, heading out the door. It was quite early that the hallways were still rather empty. Going into your office, you grabbed what you needed.

“(y/n)?” Jin blinked as you rushed by him. He was always one of the early risers of the family.

“Can’t talk! Jimin! Sick!” You replied, running into your room. You turned Jimin onto his back, making him groan.

“Jimin hardly falls sick but when he does, it’s bad. Been like that since he was a kid.” Jin stood by the door way, arms crossed. You grabbed Jimin’s arm, cleaning it with an alcohol swab and poking the needle in with medication and fluids for him.

(A/N: For those wondering why the OC always put them on IV drips or if you do know some stuff about needle site complications, I’ve researched and spoken to friends in Korea. They actually get IV drips and injections very often for simple things like hangovers and the flu.)

“I got you a pail with iced water.” Jin stood by your side.

“Thanks.” You wrung the dampen towel, placing it on Jimin’s forehead. Taking your phone, you set a two hour timer.

“I’ll go let the others know Jimin is sick. As well as call his office. Let us know if you need anything.” Jin said and you nodded. He left as you wiped Jimin’s neck and arms with a cold towel.

“Omma...” He tensed.

"Shhh, Chim.” You hushed him, placing the towel on his forehead. You went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and change into more presentable clothes.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You replied, combing your hair. Yoongi stood at the doorway. He looked flustered, rubbing the back of his neck. You blinked at him for two seconds but turned back to the mirror, fixing your hair. Yoongi wordlessly entered your room, standing over Jimin. From the corner of your eyes, you watched him cup Jimin’s cheek.

“How’s he?” Yoongi asked.

“Fine. He came in with a really high temperature so I put him on a drip. I’ll check his temperature again soon. Thankfully he stopped shivering and went back to sleep.” You replied.

“That’s good.” Yoongi mumbled, stroking Jimin’s head gently.

“Jin said when he gets sick, it’s often bad?” You asked. Yoongi nodded in confirmation.

“He got sick often as a kid and had febrile seizures. So he was always in and out of the hospital. His parents thought it would be the best way to keep him healthy. He’s gotten better over the years.” Yoongi explained.

“I don’t remembering reading about febrile seizures in the profiles.” You crossed your arms. Yoongi didn’t seem bothered by your dissatisfaction.

“He didn’t think it was necessary for you to know. It brings back a lot of bad memories for him. That’s why he came to you. He always just looks for someone to sleep next to. I’m sure he called you his mother in his feverish stupor right?” Yoongi asked. You nodded.

“Postpone my therapy session to tomorrow. I want you to care for Jimin today.” Yoongi ordered.

“I can do both, Yoon. He’ll most likely just sleep the whole day anyway.”

“No. I want you to just focus on Jimin today. An extra day won’t kill me. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Yoongi straightened up. You pursed your lips, knowing Yoongi won’t give in.

“Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow.” You gave in.

“Just stay with him. He always just needs someone by his side to help him feel better.” Yoongi instructed. You gave a thumbs up. With an acknowledging nod, the male left the room. You sat by Jimin’s side.

“You’re still so warm.” You sighed, taking his temperature again. After the beep, you saw the numbers and realised he was still running a high temperature so you continued to wipe him down with a towel and iced water. You drew the blanket back and he shivered slightly but you needed his temperature to go back down.

“Come on, Kookie.” Since you lowered the room temperature, you took Kookie out and brought him to Jungkook’s room.

“Huh?” Jungkook woke up.

“Parent duties.” You placed Kookie down on Jungkook’s blanket covered chest. Jungkook yawned and frowned, still trying to process what was going on. But he didn’t seem bothered as he went back to sleep.

“Bye, Kookie. Don’t fall off the bed or get squished by your appa.” You stroked his ears before leaving.

“Oh, doc. Morning.” Hoseok spotted you just as you were leaving Jungkook’s room. You gave a small smile and waved at him.

“I heard what happened to Jimin. How is he?”

“His temperature was rather high when he came. I’ve put him on a drip and iced him down. He should be fine in the next hour or so. I’m keeping my eye on him for the rest of the day. He’s residing in my room anyway.” You chuckled. Hoseok nodded with a sigh of relief.

“I’ll be taking over his duties for the day.” Hoseok informed. You nodded your head, patting his shoulder.

“Good luck.” You smiled. Hoseok gave you a slight hug before leaving you in the hallway. You went back to your room to find Jimin still sleeping, he looked a lot more comfortable, the frown off his face.

“Suffered from febrile seizures since adolescent years. After that, prone to severe fevers.” You noted down in your notepad.

“These boys seriously need to be hooked to a lie detector test for me to get a real background check.” You clicked your tongue and shook your head. You left to get your coffee.

“Can I get some beef mince juk for Jimin? And a glass of juice, with a straw.” You ordered. The maids nodded, rushing immediately. You made a small sandwich for yourself, bringing it back to your room with your iced coffee. As you did your work on the laptop on the bed, beside Jimin, you ate your breakfast and drank your coffee.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

“Done.” Once the drip was done, you removed the needle from Jimin’s arm and placed a band aid over it. Putting everything aside, you took his temperature.

“Gone down a little...” You sighed and threw all the used materials away. After washing your hands, you left the room and headed to your office to get the necessary medications in a cup.

“Second time seeing you today. No girlfriend duties?” You asked Jin.

“You know she’s not a girlfriend, not even an acquaintance. But I’m surprised you asked, curious?” Jin smirked.

“Not even close. Just wanted to make sure since I have to prepare my ears for that shrill voice of hers.” You patted his shoulder, entering your room with the medication. Jin shook his head with a chuckle at your words.

“Bye!” He waved at you, to which you saluted.

“Doctor (y/l/n), this is young master Jimin’s meal that you requested.” The butler came with a tray. You nodded, letting him into the room. He placed the tray on your desk and bowed before leaving. You placed the medication down and opened the metal lid.

“(y/n)...?” You heard someone call you and turned around. Jimin frowned as he opened his eyes slightly.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty, right on time. How are you feeling?” You smiled softly, walking to his side. Jimin let out a groan of discomfort, looking around, seemingly confused at where he was.

“W-Where am I? I... I feel... horrible.” Jimin placed a hand on his forehead.

“Of course, you do. You’ve been running a high fever the whole morning. You came into my room and I put you on a drip. Thankfully, your fever is gone.” You informed.

“I-I see...”

“Come, sit up. Your lunch just came. After that, I’ll give you some medication to feel better.” You used another pillow to prop him up. Jimin pushed himself up slightly into a comfortable sitting position. You placed the glass of juice on the nightstand and pulled a chair, the bowl of warm porridge in your lap. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink.

“Uh... you don’t have to feed-”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m on Jimin care duty for the entire day.” You chuckled. You gave him a sip of juice first before blowing on the porridge lightly and feeding it to him.

“So, would you like to tell me why you left out childhood febrile seizures from your health record?” You asked. Jimin choked and coughed.

“Oh. You know about that.”

“You guys need to be honest with me in these things. I told you how important it is for me to know these things. I know you boys want to prove how tough you are but you don’t need to do that with me. You know I don’t care.” You continued to feed him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jimin pouted like a scolded child. You laughed and patted his head. Once he finished, you placed the juice in his hands and went to put the empty bowl back on the tray.

“Here, have these and sleep more.” You gave him the medicine cup. He obediently ate the tablets, washing it down with the juice.

“Can I-”

“Yes, you can still sleep here. Don’t worry.” You smiled and tucked him back under the blanket. You brought the tray with the empty cup and bowl out to the kitchen, getting a bottle of water for Jimin.

“He woke up?” Yoongi asked.

“Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever sought me out so many times in one day, Yoonie. I must say, I’m touched.” You wiped a fake tear.

“Crazy woman.” Yoongi scoffed. He went to your room and you followed behind him, snickering with your hands tucked into your pockets. Jimin was already asleep when you and Yoongi entered. You pulled the chair at Jimin’s bedside out for Yoongi to sit in. Yoongi placed his hand on Jimin’s forehead, pushing his fringe back.

“He’s okay, Yoongi. Kept his food down. All he needs now is rest.” You leaned back against your desk, arms crossed. Yoongi hummed, pulling his hand away from Jimin.

“I’ll go now.” He said and left the room. You sat on your side of the bed, staring at Jimin’s sleeping face.

When Jimin stirred awake, the sun had set. He squinted his eyes, remembering where he was. Slowly, he turned his head beside him, you had fallen asleep in a sitting position.

“(y/n)... You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Jimin sighed. Even if his body ached, he was still able to push himself up and help you lie down comfortably. He fell back down beside you. You radiated warmth that made the still slightly feverish Jimin subconsciously scooted closer to you.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Jimin coughed. You stood by the side, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. It was a little late, way past dinner time.

“You took advantage of me when I was asleep.” You glared.

“I didn’t! Y-You were just warm... So I gravitated to you...” Jimin blushed, looking away. Waking up with you and Jimin snuggling together was... eventful... to say the least.

“Excuses.” You scoffed.

“Well, you almost kicked me off the bed!” Jimin exclaimed. You walked down the stairs while Jimin slowly shuffled on his own, the sound of his house slippers brushing against the floor. The others were all chatting in the living room, each with their individual drinks. They turned their heads at the sound of both your footsteps approaching.

“Look who’s awake.” Hoseok smiled.

“I’m complaining about being taken advantage of while I was vulnerable.” You shouted as you walked past them to head into the kitchen. Jimin rolled his eyes, falling down onto the couch.

“Want a-”

“If any of you feed him alcohol, you’re dead!” You threatened from the kitchen. The kitchen was empty with all the staff having gone home.

“Hmm, let’s see.” With all the ingredients, you decided to make some spicy beef soup for Jimin, to clear his sinuses. While waiting for it to boil, you cut some fruit and made some citrus tea for him.

“Here, have this first. The soup needs to simmer for a while.” You handed him a tray with the fruit and tea.

“Smells good!” Jungkook grinned.

“You can have a bowl too later, if you’d like. I made more than enough” You patted his head. You couldn’t cook like a restaurant chef but you did live alone before this so you made an effort to learn how to cook from your mother and you always tested new recipes on your own.

“Wow, you know how to cook too. You surprise us everyday, doc.” Namjoon chuckled. You scoffed at him.

“You guys just don’t give me the chance to cook so you wouldn’t know.” You crossed your arms. When Jimin finished, you brought the tray to the kitchen. You checked the soup when someone came into the kitchen.

“How is it?” Taehyung asked.

“It’s still simmering. Here.” You let him taste a bit and he nodded his head, giving a thumbs up. Instead of leaving, he sat on one of the island chairs.

“Can I fix you anything?” You offered, back facing him.

“No.” He slid off the bar stool, heading to the pantry cupboard and digging for snacks that he could munch on. All you heard was the bubbling of the soup and his munching. Since he was munching on cookies, you warmed a glass of milk for him. Taehyung received the mug gratefully, holding it in both his hands as he took careful sips.

“Jungkook, do you want a bowl?” You stuck your head out of the kitchen.

“Yes!” He nodded his head and you took 3 bowls out, rinsing them with some warm water to warm them up.

“You pay a lot of attention to details.” Taehyung pointed out.

“Call it a habit, I guess.” You shrugged. After doing one final taste, you ladled some into the bowls and garnished them, putting some freshly cooked rice into the broth to make a rice and soup combination.

“I’ll help.” Taehyung took two bowls from you.

“Here, Chim. This is yours.” You placed it on the coffee table. He slid to the ground, inhaling the scent and letting out a sigh of happiness. Jungkook clapped his hands excitedly too, taking a seat beside you on the ground as Taehyung placed the bowls down.

“It looks and smells super good.” Hoseok leaned down to steal some broth from Jungkook, making the maknae whine.

“There’s extras if you’d all like some.” You told them. Soon, the others all had their own bowls of spicy beef broth and rice, some deciding not to dunk the rice in to soak, preferring to eat it separately.

“You should cook more.” Yoongi said.

“If you’d let me. I’ll be happy to.” You smiled, putting a spoonful of broth and rice into your mouth.

“More!” Jungkook placed his second full bowl on the table.

“Yah, it’s so late and you already ate dinner earlier! You’re going to puff up from all this liquid tomorrow!” Jin scolded.

“But that was 3 hours ago!” Jungkook snorted, continuing to eat. Seeing as Jungkook took the last bit of broth, you saw Hoseok and Taehyung trying to steal some from him, much to the maknae’s annoyance.

“I’m going to put these in the sink.” You stood up, taking yours and Jimin’s empty bowl to the kitchen.

“We can bring dishes on our own too. And leave the dishes tomorrow, you’ve done a lot by cooking enough to feed all of us already.” Namjoon patted your head as he walked past you. You nodded your head, heading back out to the living room. You went to your office and got some medications for Jimin to take before he went to bed.

“Here.” You gave it to him with some water. He downed them in one shot and you took a seat on the adjacent couch beside Yoongi. They all spoke business while you tried your best to stay awake but it was all too boring.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep but when Yoongi felt a weight on his shoulder, he turned to see you fast asleep.

“Don’t move.” Jin whispered harshly.

“Why did you think I would?!” Yoongi hissed, stiff as a board. Even though you were only lying on Yoongi, the rest were also frozen, as if them moving would cause you to wake up too.

“What should we do?” Jimin asked.

“Jungkook can carry her, like the other time.” Hoseok suggested. Just as Jungkook stood up to head to you, you stirred, snuggling close to Yoongi.

“Maybe don’t move her? For now at least?” Taehyung put his hand out to stop the maknae. Yoongi took another glance at your sleeping figure and nodded in agreement with the younger.

“Chim, you should turn in first. You’re still ill. If doc wakes up and finds out, we’ll all be dead.” Namjoon chuckled and the rest laughed in agreement. Even when you were asleep, the boys were still afraid of your wrath. Jimin nodded his head obediently, standing up with Taehyung and retreating.

“Hyung, what about you?” Jungkook asked.

“I’ll stay here a while more. Maybe she will wake up later. You guys go ahead.” Yoongi waved them all off, unbothered. He took his phone out and began scrolling through it.

“Hmm, you sure?” Jin tilted his head. Yoongi nodded in confirmation.

“You wanna try and wake her up instead? Be my guest.” Yoongi challenged with a teasing smirk.

“Goodnight, hyung! Call me if your shoulder breaks!” Jungkook zoomed out of there so quickly no one saw him. The rest put their hands up in defence too, heading out of the room and into their own for the night. Before leaving, Hoseok placed a blanket over the both of you. Yoongi scoffed at the maknae’s words, leaning his head back against the couch.

The next morning, the butler was patrolling the house when he hushed the maids, seeing two figures on the couch. You were still there, fast asleep with a sleeping Yoongi’s head resting on top of yours.

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

Hi! It's an au twilight question.

What if Edward and Bella did the nasty in early New moon. Then the party happens and the Cullens leave. Bella discovers she's pregnant with Renesmee. What do you think what would happen?

A very interesting question, anon. One that will go very interesting places, I'm sure.

That said, as usual, because I'm a completionist, we have to go through the "why no canon?" routine. Bear with me, I simply must.

Why Didn't Edward and Bella Do the Nasty Pre-Breaking Dawn?

For all that Edward is, for all his... questionable morals and sexual fixations, he does have a moral code he strictly holds himself to.

Edward is adamantly against having sex with Bella in terror of the very real possibility that he will murder her in the act. He's very clear about this, he didn't think he could do it, at all, and only his sheer desperation that Bella never be turned, his desire to marry Bella, as well as Alice's thumbs up convinced him to do it.

If Bella was a reasonable person then she would have agreed as well. Sex with Edward, while she's human, is a bad idea. However, Bella never really seems to clue in on what vampires even are so I think the Man of Steel on Woman of Kleenex aspect is lost on her.

Had Alice not given the green light, I imagine Edward would have gone back to the drawing board and ended up either here or here. Bella turning is the worst possible outcome and Edward will risk almost anything, even Bella's death, to see it avoided.

But that doesn't mean it's an action he takes lightly.

He suggests pimping Bella out to Jake before he suggests sleeping with her himself. For Edward, this is a last resort.

More, Edward is a man of his time.

Edward was from an upper class family and, more to the point, still holds himself to the standards of the society he knew when human (much to Bella's amusement).

Edward wistfully talks about courting Bella, how he would have courted her had he been a true man in the time period he was familiar with, and why marriage to him is so very important.

That Edward doesn't seek out the approval of Charlie, Bella's father, is a hilarious aside to me. Edward's all about chivalry until all those old society standards get in his way.

What do you mean a gentleman doesn't sneak into a lady's apartments in the middle of the night to watch her slumber unawares?!

Regardless, marriage is extremely important to Edward, especially in the context of sex.

Edward will absolutely not have sex with a woman who is not first his wife. He also will not marry a girl that society defines as underage, he will wait until Bella's legal and probably until she finishes her primary schooling.

This means Edward was never likely to have sex with her before graduation and certainly not before her eighteenth birthday.

Which, at the earliest, puts her past the New Moon birthday bash.

Edward and Bella Do the Do Anyway

But let's pretend they do it anyway.

I'd say the most likely scenario is after the birthday disaster. This is it, Edward knows he is leaving Bella forever, if he is truly noble then he will never see her again.

Certainly, he will never interact with her nor hold her in his arms. To Edward, this is essentially his last true night on Earth.

So rather than pull a partial D.E.N.N.I.S. system, Edward pulls the full D.E.N.N.I.S. system, he initiates the "I" he was previously missing, "Inspire Hope". Or, in this case, get laid for the first and only time in his life.

He sneaks in through her window. They make beautiful, passionate, tepid love so Edward does not crush her in the act, and as she sleeps blissfully in the aftermath he sneaks back out the window to never be seen again.

(It takes Bella a week to admit that Edward just hit and run. The Cullens aren't coming back.)

However, because Edward didn't actually point blank tell her what was happening, rather than hit her New Moon stage of depression, Bella's instead in denial.

The Cullens are coming back. What, Carlisle has a new job? No, that can't be right, they're coming back. Alice would never leave her without a word. Edward would never leave her without a word.

Jessica pats Bella on the back consolingly and is secretly glad that it's not her. She might have been dumped by Edward Cullen, but at least he didn't humiliate her the way he did Bella Swan.

Leaving without a single word, yikes.

Two weeks go by then Bella gets the flu.

In a single day, she's unable to keep down anything. Huh, that's weird. Very quickly, Bella has her tampon epiphany. Bella is not a virgin, she had sex with Edward, she's late, and she appears to have a baby bump.

Bella is carrying Edward's child.

There is no question of aborting the child. This is Edward's child, the only piece she has left of him, even without Renesmee's gift it's ride or die. Bella is delivering this child even if it kills her.

However, she has some immediate issues.

First, she's visibly pregnant, it's been only two weeks. That's not supposed to happen. More, Charlie is bound to notice sooner rather than later, Bella would like to avoid that, the stigma of teen pregnancy, as well as the inhuman complications that are sure to come along.

Second, there's inhuman complications. Bella can't just go to an OBGYN, not even a town over. She's carrying something half human, a doctor will poke around and find that out, and then Bella's blowing the secret.

Bella knows vaguely of the Volturi at this point, but not the severity of the law, it's more that she promised Edward she would never tell a soul.

Plus, a human doctor wouldn't be able to help anyway.

That leaves vampires.

Bella tries to call/email the Cullens. However, thanks to Edward, all their numbers are disconnected and all their emails no longer exist. Her "Alice, help, I'm pregannant" messages are sent to a void.

(Alice, meanwhile, thinks she's finally successful in blocking visions of Bella. At least Edward will be off her back. Without the cliff diving and Jake, Alice does not assume Bella has died/committed suicide.)

A brief internet survey also yields Bella no results, but it does get her a lot of vampire porn. Thanks internet.

Bella... starts to get worried.

She's getting more and more pregnant in a matter of days, Charlie is starting to notice that she can't keep anything down, and the Cullens aren't taking her phone calls.

Then, Bella has it, she remembers that weird baroque painting Carlisle had of him and those Italian vampire dudes: the Volturi. Conveniently named after the city they live in, Volterra, Italy.

Bella debates her options.

Edward told her that these are the guys who make sure that humans who know the secret disappear. Well, Bella is a human who knows the secret, that's bad. Also bad is that they eat people, Bella is a person.

On the other hand, Edward implied these guys are civilized and friends of Carlisle. That's... good? Bella isn't sure she's on good terms with the Cullens, given the whole abrupt leaving thing, but maybe they don't have to know that.

Bella debates with herself, tries to look up the Denali, and only finds the National Park. She has no idea where these guys even live, or what they even look like besides "blonde hot vampire", and she's short on time. Plus, they are close with the Cullens, so the Cullens probably did tell them "Ew, Bella, No Gross, Do Not Want".

Because the Cullens all hate her now.

Bella has some money saved up, and this is probably a one way trip, and if she doesn't go then... well, it's not looking good. Bella musters up her courage, tells Charlie some outrageous fib to explain why she's disappearing off the face of the planet, and books a flight to Rome, then Pisa, then a bus ride to Volterra.

Bella subsists completely on blue gateorade, this doesn't go well, and she vomits blue in the parking lot.

Regardless, she makes it, huzzah she is in Volterra. It's sunny out and there are no vampires. Bella wanders around the city and looks for the most vampire building she can find.

Luckily, she happens to be right, and it's the very central castle. Well done, Bella.

Bella walks in and spots a vampire. She also spots a receptionist, Bella is very confused. Never the less, Bella says the magic words, "I'm a... friend of Carlisle Cullen?"

Even though Bella doesn't have Aro's name (or any of the other Volturi for that matter), Carlisle's name does the trick. Anyone who works for Aro knows that name.

Color Aro intrigued, he will meet this pregnant woman! (Caius, meanwhile, votes that they eat her immediately out of spite.)

Well, Aro touches her hand and lo and behold she's scarily gifted. And she knows Carlisle, what a great day to be Aro.

Aro explains that everything's totally fine with her knowing the secret, it just means they have to turn her eventually, after she gives birth of course.

Bella stares at him numbly and wonders why Edward made this such a big deal if it was that easy.

Aro insists Bella start from the beginning, as in the very beginning of her life. This is weird, but Bella complies.

An hour later they get to the interesting part: Bella meets Carlisle (and Edward Cullen, Aro guesses). Aro gets to hear the whole, sordid, ridiculous tale of Bella and Edward's romance including the part where he fucked her and ran off into the night.

Aro is stunned.

He first apologizes for the Cullens behavior, they should absolutely not have abandoned her, and not turning her was completely irresponsible (what the hell was Carlisle thinking?)

He then gives the bad news, he... has never heard of anything like this.

You see, normal vampires don't have sex with humans. It isn't done.

Also, there's this thing called Immortal Children (Edward tell you about that, no? Well, he probably thought it wasn't relevant). That thing your carrying might not be a child capable of growth but an insatiable monster.

Or it could be the alien from Aliens.

There's no way to tell, really.

BUT NO NEED TO WORRY, BELLA, THEY WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.

Aro promises Bella his protection and a period of observation for the child. Bella's not sure she likes that observation part, but this seems like a pretty sweet deal otherwise.

As for what to do, well, Aro has to call in the foremost vampire medical expert. Sorry, Bella, but there's only one man for the job.

Aro sends out Demetri to find Carlisle.

Demetri shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, "Carlisle, old friend, Aro has need of you. Your son knocked up a human girl."

Carlisle blinks, blinks again, then does a thousand yard stare. My God.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Edward is already on Victoria's tail. Carlisle tries to call him, to no avail, Edward isn't taking his phone calls.

Alice and Jasper are already on their trip to hunt down Alice's past. Plus, given the Volturi, they'd be unlikely to come anyway. Carlisle sends them a message.

Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett travel to Volterra to clean up Edward's mess.

And sure enough, there's Bella, very pregnant with a child that is very much not human. Carlisle dies inside, Rosalie's on a warpath that Edward would abandon his pregnant girlfriend to the point where the only place she could turn was human drinking vampires.

Rosalie takes it upon herself to leave Edward the world's angriest voice messages until he returns her phone calls.

Aro's delighted to see Carlisle again. Even if he does have a wife now. Also, Aro claims finders keepers for Bella, Carlisle's not happy about this and less happy that Aro points out that if Edward cared so much he wouldn't be absent right now, would he?

They figure out the blood drinking thing, Carlisle desperately raids a hospital to prevent Bella from being fed the leftovers of the Volturi victims. This likely doesn't work out for him.

At the last possible moment, Edward finally picks up his phone. He learns that all he's tried to accomplish failed spectacularly. Bella is pregnant with his demon child, is literally drinking blood, and is in Vampire HQ with the leader insisting she will be turned immediately after the C-section.

Edward races to Volterra and strides into the room demanding Bella be aborted and remain human.

Aro stares.

Carlisle awkwardly explains that Bella's too far along, it's too late now even if they wanted to, more she adamantly doesn't want to abort and never did.

As for Bella being human... Bella pipes in that she's cool on becoming the vampire part. Aro's a great guy. She then races to embrace Edward, he's come back, after all this time. And he's going to be a father, isn't that wonderful?

Edward loses his mind.

And because this is Edward, I have no idea what he'll do, only it'll be utter madness. This is my best guess.

To be a little more serious, he probably tries to abort the child anyway, he mercy kills Bella and the child, or Renesmee manages to get through to him.

Given canon, it's likely the latter. Bella is convinced that her and Edward's relationship is perfect.

Aro has no idea what to think of any of this.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #bella swan #edward cullen #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #carlisle cullen #the volturi #aro #caius #demetri #rosalie hale #alice cullen #the cullens #the denali #meta #headcanon #opinion

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Stardust - CHANGMIN

So like. This was the first full scenario I wrote for TBZ and I can’t believe I wrote this before actually even STARTING No Air, but whatever! It was cute! I couldn’t help myself but I didn’t want to post this before No Air so that’s why it’s late

Thank you to @deathbykpopboys for helping me put this scenario together! Honestly I don’t think I’d ever write anything without sunny hhhh she’s always so great with ideas <3

Pairing: Changmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a little angst if you squint, teacher!au

Triggers: alcohol, cursing

Word Count: 2.7k

Changmin sometimes thinks you’re a little too perfect to exist.

TBZ Masterlist | No Air | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

Friday nights are always fun, for Changmin. Friday’s the last day of the work week and kind of blends into the weekend, and because he’s a schoolteacher, he (sort of) gets the weekend off. Sure, he might be making lesson plans or writing reports or doing other important, not fun things, but he also has his stolen moments for dance or shopping or things that he doesn’t have time to do during the week. He’s free, more or less.

The last Friday night of each month, though, Changmin enjoys the most, when he, Jacob, and Kevin meet up for cheap food and drinks. And as much as Changmin likes to wreak havoc on the lives of his fellow teachers (mostly by scaring the wits out of them with dolphin screams and horror movie masks), he really does enjoy their presence in his life and appreciates them for it.

They haven’t a missed a night so far, not since that time Jacob was out with the flu and Kevin had a family emergency. And even though Changmin’s definitely done and said some stupid (read: really embarrassing) things while under the influence, the pros of each night always end up outweighing the cons. So if Changmin wakes up the next morning with a hangover, well, that’s just a side effect of having some fun.

But sometimes he has thoughts. Thoughts that he’s repressed so well he might not even register them, but that exist nonetheless. And Changmin, sadly, is a truthful drunk. His thoughts come spilling out of his mouth, mostly unfiltered, whenever he’s had enough to drink.

And this week, Changmin has been having thoughts. Thoughts that he isn’t sure he wants to spill.

If he drinks, they’ll flood out. It’s the way Changmin works – he’s had enough experiences with alcohol and his brain that he knows what will happen. As he stares at the soju bottle on the table, he knows that if he drinks, he’ll probably regret it in the morning. Not necessarily because he’ll remember what he says – his memory tends to get a bit spotty even after a round of light drinking – but because Kevin definitely will.

Normally, Changmin would praise God for Kevin's ability to remember drunk things. Coupled with his inability to lie, it makes for so much potent blackmail. Sure, Kevin makes Changmin and Jacob swear not to talk about anything he said under the influence, but Changmin isn't an angel the way Jacob is. If it came down to it, he'd sell Kevin's secrets for a single corn chip and some entertainment.

(Okay, not really. But the point still stands.)

If he complained about this to people, they’d probably just laugh and say something about how Kevin is a precious pure meme, that he’d never sell out Changmin’s deepest thoughts for anything. After several years of working with him, though, Changmin knows better.

(He’ll just say that sometimes, Mr. Kev Kev isn't the happy-go-lucky meme-y little boy that everyone likes to make him out to be.)

So maybe Changmin shouldn't be drinking tonight. There isn’t necessarily a lot on his mind, but he’s been thinking of things that he doesn't want spilled just yet, and drinking will only make that possibility a reality.

Isn’t that what alcohol is for, though? To make those worries disappear, if only for a short while? The soju beckons at Changmin, even more so when Kevin actually opens the bottle. Eventually, he throws caution to the wind and fills his own glass.

It’s a clear night, mostly. A bit cloudy, but no sign of rain, and there’s a pleasant little breeze that feels cool against his cheeks. Sitting at one of the small tables outside of the restaurant, Changmin loses himself in the food and the conversation.

After an hour, Jacob decides he needs to leave because he’s supposed to meet with his family the next day and can’t get too plastered. Kevin calls him a noob while making a face, but Jacob, being the angel he is, just pats him on the head on his way out. Privately, Changmin thinks Kevin is much more of a noob than Jacob, but the alcohol hasn’t addled his mind enough to say that out loud just yet.

At some point, though, the world becomes pleasantly muddy. Changmin can register what’s going on at a distant level and he probably shouldn’t drink too much more, but he takes a last shot anyway, just as Kevin asks a slightly slurred “How’s life with Y/N?”

A stupid smile stretches across Changmin’s lips. “Kevin, oh my God, she’s perfect.” He grins, the breeze cool against his flushed cheeks. "She’s so beautiful, it doesn't make sense that we exist in the same world."

Kevin mutters something that sounds like "whipped" and "so soft."

Changmin is sure that if he were sober, he would've attacked his fellow teacher by now, but his tipsy haze is too pleasant to interrupt. He just wants to keep talking. "Kevin," he whines. "Pay attention."

"Okay." Face flushed, Kevin puts his chin on his fist. "'M listening."

"Y/N’s so beautiful." Dimly, Changmin is aware that he's just repeating himself, but he can't help it. The point needs emphasis. "Kevin, she’s so amazing. So much more amazing than me. So smart. Did you know Y/N knows like ten programming languages?"

Tipsily, Kevin shakes his head. "What... what's a program."

"Computer shit." Changmin plays idly with his shot glass. "Doesn't matter. So smart, so nice, so... lovely, Kevin. Y/N’s good at everything. She cuts fruit for me when I work late and make me go to sleep. She doesn’t know anything about dance and tries to help anyway. She works so hard and never takes anyone’s shit and she always knows when I need time alone or when I need comfort.” His mouth draws down into a slight frown. “She’s like... she’s like..."

Why is it so hard to come up with something to explain you? Your entire existence defies definition. How can he even find something comparable to the way you sparkle in his eyes?

Ignoring Kevin’s gaze trained on him, Changmin slumps over the table, eyes gazing out at the dark night. A few stars manage to glitter past the clouds and the piercing lights of the Seoul skyline.

Stars. Something tugs at the back of Changmin’s brain. Stars. Sparkly.

An image of your smile pops, unbidden, in his mind. Your bright eyes glimmer. Like stars.

Oh.

Stardust.

Yes, stardust.

You're like stardust, warm and gentle and... magical. Magical to the touch.

"She’s like." Changmin hiccups. "She’s like stardust, Kevin. Stardust. Perfect. Warm.”

A tear trickles down Kevin's cheek. Changmin has exactly two seconds to ready himself in his drunken haze before Kevin launches himself at his purple hoodie, loosely grasping at the soft cloth as he fully encases Changmin within his arms. "Ji Changmin," he sobs, muffled, "that is the most adorable thing I've ever heard you say."

Even sober, Changmin doesn't think he'd know what to say in response to that, so he just stays silent. It's not like Kevin would even hear him over the sound of his overemotional crying.

Anyway, Kevin's hug feels nice. Warm. Changmin doesn't think he needs to speak words at the moment, he's too comfortable. It's not the same as being in your arms, but he'll settle for it now. He burrows a little deeper into his friend's hold.

“You little child, you,” Kevin sobs into his shoulder. “You’re so sweet and small and warm, I can’t believe you exist.”

Changmin doesn’t feel like replying. There’s a bubble of something growing in his chest that he can’t entirely decipher right now, and his brain has focused on that. It’s some sort of emotion, he thinks. It doesn’t feel very pleasant.

His head gets pulled out of Kevin’s arms. He whines a little, annoyed by the lack of warmth, but he doesn’t really have the presence of mind to do anything but sit there limply as Kevin starts shaking him back and forth, still wailing about how “adorable his little Ji Changminnie is.”

The bubble keeps growing as Kevin keeps shaking him. It doesn’t feel like vomit – Changmin knows that sensation a bit too well – but it makes him feel a little sick. A little upset. The bubble feels suffocating, cold, but it also burns.

Not vomit. He doesn’t feel nauseous. But still unpleasant.

Kevin goes back to hugging Changmin into his chest, which soothes the bubble a little bit. The soft warmth of Kevin’s sweater smooths the burning and takes away the edge of the cold. But the bubble still stays as Changmin rocks back and forth in his friend’s hold, blankly trying to decipher the stupid emotion growing in his heart.

“There’s a bubble.” The words slip out of his mouth just past Kevin’s ear. “There’s a bubble in my chest.”

“Bubble?” Kevin pulls back slightly, flushed face confused. “What bubble?”

Changmin vaguely gestures at his chest as best he can with Kevin’s arms partially trapping his hands. “Here. Doesn’t feel good.”

Kevin’s eyes squint. “Need to vomit?”

“Nooooo,” Changmin whines. “Kevin, it’s a bubble.” He pauses. “Think it’s an emotion.”

He hears Kevin suck in a breath. “I can’t believe my precious little Scorpio child is finally feeling emotions,” the older boy says in a stage whisper, loud enough for at least the next two tables to hear. Changmin has enough presence of mind to slap him. “Hey!”

“It hurts.” Changmin’s lips pout deeper. “I don’t like it.”

“Aww, no, baby.” Kevin pats his head – a little too hard, but Changmin can deal with that. “Why does it hurt? What emotion is it?”

Changmin racks his brains for the word. It’s not a good feeling, so he tries to eliminate the good words as they pass through his mind. Not pleasant. Definitely not happy. Not calm, either.

Sadness? Maybe that’s part of it, but it’s not specific enough. Anger? Not really.

Fear?

Changmin isn’t scared of many things. He loves horror movies and thinks possessed dolls are cute, and it’s hard for anyone to really startle him. Fear is not an emotion that regularly appears in his repertoire.

But this time…

“I’m scared.” The two words slip out of his mouth, quiet, lonely. “’M scared, Kevin.”

Kevin pulls back again. “Changmin, you’re never scared.”

“I am now.” He purses his lips petulantly.

“Why?”

Unconsciously, the corners of his lips turn down even further into a blank pout. "Sometimes I think Y/N’s gonna leave. Slip through my fingers."

Even tipsy, Changmin can tell there are more tears welling up in Kevin's eyes. "But… you love each other?"

"Y/N’s stardust." Changmin's pout deepens. "Too perfect. She’s gonna realize that, that I'm not... I'm not good enough but she’s too nice to say that so she’ll just slip away." He hiccups again, feeling his cheeks burn with drink, fluttering his fingers loosely to make sure Kevin gets the point. "Like stardust."

Kevin remains silent for one, two, three seconds. Changmin takes that time to drain the last little bit of soju left in his cup.

Then Kevin nearly knocks the cup out of his hand when he literally grabs Changmin and forces him to curl up into his sweater, nose buried in the soft folds of cloth. “You beautiful, pure little child, you,” he coos, patting Changmin’s head (still a little too hard, but Changmin really doesn’t feel the need to deal with it right now). “You small little child. You poor, small child. Y/N is so in love with you, there’s no way she’ll ever leave.”

“Stardust,” Changmin reminds Kevin, words muffled into his sweater.

“Stardust,” Kevin agrees. “But good stardust. Gonna stay with you. Never going to leave.”

Changmin doesn’t remember much of what happens after that. He knows that they eventually pay for everything and Kevin’s partner picks them up (well, they were the one who was supposed to pick the two of them up. He doesn’t actually register the driver’s face, but Changmin hears Kevin calling them “love muffin, better than Beyonce,” so it’s probably them. He refuses to acknowledge any alternatives), but he’s too drunk and too tired to process anything else.

Somehow, he wakes up the next day curled up in his bed, forehead threatening to split from the dull pain. Mentally, he thanks himself for closing the shades before he passed out last night (or was it morning? He isn’t completely sure when he got home) so that the sunlight isn’t adding to his headache.

Get up, Changmin, he tells himself, summoning the strength to swing his legs out of bed. Step by step, he exits his room and slowly brushes his teeth before heading toward the kitchen for a bottle of water or something to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Changmin’s so out of it that he doesn’t register the smell of something cooking wafting out of the kitchen before he’s almost in it. He finally stops, confused, just in time to see your head poke out from the kitchen entrance.

For a second, Changmin just stares at you, brain buffering as he tries to come up with a suitable greeting in his hungover state. There’s this look on your face that Changmin’s muddled mind can’t seem to decipher.

Oh, God.

You look like you’re about to cry.

He panics. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad last night? He can’t remember anything – how badly did he screw up, what the hell did he do –

Then you leap at him, much the same way Kevin did last night, and bury your face into his shoulder.

“Ji Changmin,” you say, words muffled into his rumpled shirt, “I love you so much.”

Changmin’s mouth can only come up with a confused “huh?”

You pull back, eyes shining with tears, but mouth stretched into a beautiful, beautiful smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you told Kevin last night,” you say teasingly, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in your gaze.

Slowly, slowly, the events of last night begin to piece themselves together in Changmin’s brain. Every single stupid word he said to Kevin in his drunken stupor comes flooding back in one massive, jumbled mess.

He blushes.

“Ji Changmin.” You cup his puffy, red cheeks between your hands, voice trembling. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to slip through your fingers and, fucking, I don’t know, fly away. Because I am not perfect, I am not stardust, but god, I – you’re perfect for me. You are good enough for me, more than good enough for me. You are perfect, and I’m staying here forever. You’re not going to be able to get rid of me. Understood?”

“But –”

“Understood?”

Changmin stares into your shining eyes. Even with you standing right here, hands cradling his face with the gentlest touch, he can’t quite believe you’re real and not just some beautiful figment of his imagination. Slowly, slowly, one of his hands rises to touch the fingers resting against his cheek. Just to make sure this isn’t a dream.

Solid. Warm.

Not a dream.

This is real.

He nods dumbly, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “Okay.”

You crush him close again and this time, Changmin’s arms automatically move to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He can feel a few tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you hold him tight, so tight, and he smiles, one hand coming up to pat your back.

You’re here. You’re here, alive, solid, real. He can feel your warmth against his body, feel your hair tickling his skin.

You may be ethereal. You may be something completely out of this world, beautiful, divine. You may be sparkling, glimmering, brilliant in the morning sunlight. You may be made of stardust, something too perfect (he’ll fight you on that) to exist on earth.

But now, with you wrapped warmly in his arms, Changmin realizes that even though you may be stardust, that doesn’t mean you’re going anywhere.

A tear slips out of his eye as he smiles.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 cheek pinch for changmin idk why I just think that’d be fun <3)

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pookiepoodle · 3 years

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Haikyuu Brat Collab! - Matsukawa Issei

Hi everyone! This is for @maizumis Brat Collab which I had so much fun participating in! Please go check her out and all the other writers for their contributions to this amazing event. If you enjoy this, please like, reblog and don’t forget to check out my masterlist! Feel free to send me requests!

“ISSEI!”

“I’m just coming, Angel, give me a minute!”

It was only eleven in the morning and Matsukawa was rushing around the kitchen, trying to prepare your favorite breakfast food and tea just the way you liked it. He’d been kept on his toes for the past few days after you became sick with some kind of cold or flu. You weren’t too sure what it was (except you knew it wasn’t Covid, thank god) but it felt like every single cell in your body had given up and was merely a punching bag for the germs.

Of course, the second you began to sneeze and complain of a sore head, Issei had been at your side, ready to do anything to make you feel comfortable. Your personal butler, he’d joked at the beginning, but it seemed that you took his joke a bit too seriously. He was regretting buying you that little bell, which you had no qualms about ringing for anything, at any time.

But, he’d never tell you to stop or complain because you normally were so good for him. Always helpful and decent in the kitchen too, he never was really the one to cook in your relationship. Hence his struggles with making such a simple dish for you. He’d been following a recipe on instagram however, trying to make it look just like the picture-perfect images which seemed to be more like works of art than actual meals.

Plating up the dish, Issei let out a sigh of relief and smiled happily - mashed avocado on toasted bread, with a hot cup of honey and lemon tea to wash it down. It was the perfect kind of food for someone who was sick and he wasted no time hurrying to your shared bedroom, careful not to spill a drop of the tea.

Just before he made his way in, he heard you ring your little bell, grumbling under the mountain of blankets and pillows you’d accumulated. The room looked like a war-zone, with tissues overflowing out of the bin, empty glasses cluttering up the nightstand and the quiet glow of the television illuminating your sickly figure.

What was taking him so long?

“No need to ring, I’m right here, doll,” Issei exclaimed, pushing open the door with the crook of his arm. He peeked around, giving you a cheeky grin as he stepped in,” I got you everything you wanted, your brunch and tea, just how you like them!”

Your tired eyes lit up at the mention of your favorite food, scooting back eagerly onto the bed as Issei grabbed the bed-tray, setting it up for you with a loving expression before finally placing the china plate and mug down with a clink,” All for you, baby!”

He’d been expecting something along the lines of “Oh, Issei, you’re the best!” or “Oh, Issei, it looks amazing” or even “Oh, Issei, please make love to me, your avocado toast has got me so worked up!”

Okay, maybe not the last one, but he had been expecting a positive reaction after all his hard work.

Instead, after a few quiet moments of gazing down at the plate, you looked back up at him with teary eyes and a pout.

“Issei, you know I don’t like this bread…” you whispered hoarsely, your sore throat making it difficult to speak,” and you even kept the crusts on and… is that mashed avocado?” Your voice broke on that last word as you burst into tears.

Standing there, a look of shock was on the frozen man’s face as he watched you cry over avocado toast. After a moment or two, he quickly snapped out of it, dropping down to your side. Without a thought to what germs you were covered in, he cupped your face so tenderly, his thumb tracing your cheeks as he wiped away the tears.

“Angel, I am so sorry, I forgot that’s how you liked it,” he mumbled, cursing himself under his breath. He’d just been following the recipe and had forgotten that you preferred your avocado sliced instead of mushed up. In fact, he’d been so caught up in replicating the instagram picture that he’d forgotten all of those important things you’d listed off.

“I just… I was so excited,” you whimpered, leaning against his hands whilst he tried to soothe you,” I’m sorry for being so fussy, I just feel terrible and I can’t stomach a lot right now, but this was gonna be so good and-”

“And it will be!” Issei interrupted, leaning forward to press a kiss to your feverish forehead before smiling at you,” I’ll remake it, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, okay?”

“Issei, you don’t have to, I don’t wanna be a brat and make you re-do it,” you mumbled, feeling horribly guilty. He’d done so much for you these past few days and now you were complaining about a meal he’d worked hard to make? Shaking your head, you began to reach out for the plate but it was quickly snatched out of your reach.

“Angel, you’re my brat,” he chuckled, reaching out with one hand to ruffle your hair sweetly,” and if you want sliced avocado on toasted sourdough with the crusts cut off, then that’s what you’re gonna get.”

#hq!bratcollab #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x reader #issei x reader #matsukawa issei #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabble #mattsukawa x reader

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coexiising · 3 years

Text

Good Neighbors - Chapter One

SUMMARY ✦ You were excited to learn that someone was finally moving into that old house next to your own. The Skywalker-Amidala family seemed like a great addition to your friendly neighborhood, with their two twin kids and happy personalities. Though, the more you get to know your neighbors, the closer you get to the husband of the family: Anakin Skywalker.

WARNING(S) ✦ Modern! Anakin Skywalker, Alternate Universe, Infidelity, Eventual Smut, not so slow burn, Eventual Romance, Neighbors, and they were neighbors, anakin looks so good in a suit, sneaking around, forbidden love

NOTE ✦ I’ve been wanting to write a Modern! Anakin fanfic for a while now, so here we go! This will be a multi chapter fic, I don’t know how many yet but expect a lot because I’ve got some ideas to play out! This chapter is more of an introductory, but expect some more spicy drama in the next coming chapters.

»»————-　✼　————-««

As tradition goes every year, you could smell the smoke coming from the middle of your neighborhood's culdesac while you made your way outside your garage with your mother, who held a large tray of potato salad in her hands that she insisted she carried herself over to the white tables in the distance. It was hot outside, early July was coming strong this year with the heat, reaching a staggering eighty nine degrees outside and it was already well past noon. Though, you should’ve been expecting the heat, since it seemed to creep up on you every time this yearly cookout happened.

It had been a little tradition, jokingly deemed a ‘holiday’ by your younger brother, that had been going on for as long as you could think back to. You could remember being five years old and running around with the neighborhood kids and jumping into your pool after eating the bountiful amount of food that was supplied for the families that participated. It used to be a handful of them, three or four families that came and had a small little barbeque together. But over time that changed, and now it became a whole neighborhood thing.

The dads of the block always started earlier to get everything set up, which was really the long white tables where food could be set and setting up the large grill on the pavement. And the moms always slaved away in their kitchens making some type of side dish, whether it be fruit cups, potato salads, or whatever. You were twenty two now, almost done with your undergraduate degree, and you wondered if you would ever find this sense of friendliness anywhere else when you eventually moved from your home. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave, it was just more convenient for you to stay and you didn’t mind your family that much. They were supportive, there for you no matter what, and your home was close to your University anyways.

“I wonder if Lisa is going to wear that ugly dress she bought the other day,” Your mother stated, making short, languid strides next to you. “She brought it to the house a few days ago when we were having a little wine date and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was definitely not twenty five anymore and that dress did not hug her in the right places.”

You laughed, jokingly hitting your mom on the shoulder. “Mom, come on, it can’t be that bad.” She didn’t respond, only grinning towards you with a hint of playfulness filling her eyes behind her thick, black sunglasses. Your eyes scanned the crowd already forming, kids on the outside running around with a ball. You knew a lot of them, even held some of them as babies after they were born. But when you took another glance at the group, you saw that there were two you didn’t recognize. A boy and a girl, both looking similar to one another and the only difference being the slightly different shades of their hair. “Mom, who are they?” You asked, pointing to the girl and boy who were now fighting each other for control over the soccer ball.

“Oh, they’re the kids of the new neighbors,” Your mom answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You looked over at the house next to your own, a two story one with white coloring and many windows. It had been for sale forever and it became quite the local news when someone actually bought it. You guess you hadn’t realized that the people who bought it were now occupying it. “They’re twins, I think. The mom and dad are on the younger side too. Courtney says that the husband is working at that law firm down on first street and apparently the wife wants to run for senator in a year.” How the hell did she know this much about everyone? You shouldn’t even question it at this point, since she was friends with all the neighborhood moms who loved to gossip.

Looking around for any unfamiliar faces, you were surprised to see none. Were they not coming out for the cookout? It seemed like the perfect place for them to meet everybody. “Oh!” Your mom exclaimed. “I forgot the tongs on the kitchen counter, could you go get them for me, please?” Without a second thought you nodded, turning on your heel and making your way back towards your house. As much as you loved your mom, you were sometimes annoyed with her forgetfulness, especially because you asked her if she had everything three times before you left just a few moments ago. Oh well, it wasn’t that big of a deal, you would be in and out in no time.

You walked up the well cut grass of your lawn to your front door, sandaled foot almost hitting the concrete when you heard the creak of another door. It belonged to the door of the house beside you, the light tapping of shoes making their way onto the patio filled your ears, feeling somewhat foreign since you weren’t used to hearing anything from that house. You wondered what it looked like inside, if everything was rusted and worn. It had to have been almost ten years since someone lived there.

But when you turned to finally get a look at your neighbor, your thoughts were completely halted.

Your mom was right, he, most likely being the husband, was on the younger side. He had to be in his early thirties, still a lot of youth painting his broadened features. His skin was lightly tanned, it was hard not to notice the way that the sun seemed to do a good job in painting his long, muscular arms that reached to close the door behind him. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and black pants, though it wasn’t like something that you had seen other dads wear before, it was more formal, more pristine like he was trying to make an appearance. But if the story checked out, he was supposed to be a lawyer, it was his job to look professional. You continued to look at him, almost shamefully so as your eyes trailed from his clothing to his face, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and the blues of his eyes that very much reminded you of the light blue sky above you now. And then to his hair, which was cut short and had a golden glow to it.

Right as you were about to turn and get into your house, the ball that had been with the group of kids came flying your way, hitting against the door next to you and making you jump at the loud noise. It was lucky that it didn’t fly through a window, or your parents would’ve gone ballistic. You could hear some of the parents start to shout at the kids, telling them to stay away from the houses if they were planning on kicking that thing off of the ground. The same kids you were questioning earlier ran up your lawn, most definitely to retrieve the ball that would’ve hit you dead on if you hadn’t been gawking at their father.

“Luke, I told you to not kick it that way!” The girl, Leia, yelled towards her brother, a little stomp in her step as they made their way towards you. You picked up the ball and held it in your hands, kneeling down and waiting for the kids to approach you. Luke shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes and saying, “It wasn’t me! It was that other guy over there. Why do you always blame me!” You laughed, the dynamic almost reminding you of you and your brother when you were younger.

Handing them the red rubber ball, they both gave you a small ‘thank you’ and Leia muttered a tiny ‘sorry’ and they went on their way. Watching as they went, you didn’t even realize that someone else was walking up to you. Still kneeling, you looked up and saw that it was your neighbor, looking down at you with a tiny, pleasant smile on his face. You blushed, realizing the awkward position and stood up, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks and offering a smile to him as well. Being this close to him, you could see that he was tall as well, standing a good couple inches over you. Usually this would’ve made you feel intimidated, but for some reason it made you want to draw closer to him. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking this way, knowing that he was your new neighbor, and not to mention he had two very cute twins and a wife who was probably beautiful.

“Sorry about that, I hope they didn’t scare you that bad,” He said, taking a glance at his kids who were already starting another round of whatever game they were playing with the others. His voice was low, but there was a sense of calm to it. It wasn’t rough or gravelly, almost like honey as he spoke to you. “I haven’t seen you here before, do you live here? I think I’ve seen your mom and dad around but we were waiting until the cookout to introduce ourselves.” Kind of a stupid question to ask since you were standing on your porch with your keys in your hand, though you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, um,” You thought back to the day you saw your neighbors two cars parked in the driveway, was that a Sunday? No, it was a Monday. “I’m usually around here more but last week I had to pick up a couple shifts at work to help my friend.” Your coworker and friend came down with the flu and had to find someone to cover her ships ASAP, and you weren’t doing anything important and stepped in to help.

He nodded. “Makes sense. I’m Anakin Skywalker, you already met my kids but they’re Luke and Leia.” Skywalker. A strange last name that confused you for a moment, realizing that you’ve never heard of anything like that before. Then again, you hadn’t heard of the name Anakin either, but somehow the unique name fit him.

“Y/N,” You responded, giving him a nod.

“Y/N,” He said, like he was testing the name out on his tongue. You tried to ignore the feeling you got when you heard it come out of his lips, which were very nice by the way when you took a second to glance at them. It sounded good in Anakin’s voice, and you found yourself wanting him to say it over and over again if he would. There was a moment of awkward silence between the both of you, a random amount of tension that you didn’t know if you were imagining or not. Then Anakin opened his mouth again to say, “My kids were looking at the pool in your yard the other day when they were exploring our backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said. “They’re welcome to come over any time and use it if they want.”

“Are you sure?”

It was normal for the people in the neighborhood to use it if they wanted to. It was a big underground pool that had been built when you were a little kid. “Yeah, everyone does. Just make sure to ask someone before and they’ll most likely say yes. We like to get the most out of it every summer.” You realized that you were supposed to be back with your mother, she was most likely getting antsy as to what was taking so long. So you took the opportunity to leave, even though you wouldn’t mind staying and talking to your new neighbor for as long as he wanted to. He wasn’t just attractive, you thought that he was nice too.

“Well, I need to get something from the house and get back to my mom. See you later, Mr. Skywalker.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Just Anakin is fine.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Right, see you later, Anakin.” He gave you one last smile and right as you turned around, you could’ve sworn you saw a wink. You turned on your heel, ignoring the eyes he clearly had on you and making your way into your house. The moment the door was closed, you leaned against the wood and closed your eyes, replaying that last moment over and over again in your head. Had he really winked at you? Or was that just your mind spinning some kind of fantasy?

Oh, Christ.

It was hard to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #modern #modern au #star wars modern au

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arvandus · 3 years

Text

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining. Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again. By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly. It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks. “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?” She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right. Crap. You forgot about that little white lie. “Sorry, hang on a sec.” You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face. “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you feeling okay? I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied.

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah. He was big, too. And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.” Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down. When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others. You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned. You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing. So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over. “Hm. Better keep that on there. You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag. You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully. The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed. Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in.

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work. The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you. You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her. And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence. But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge. Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was. You gave a soft sigh. “Of course not. He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement.

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it. She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them. You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing. More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes. But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied. You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No. I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded.

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes. You had to choose your words carefully.

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained. “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away. It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you. And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people. You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something. You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right? You treat each of us like family. Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know. But you don’t. That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes. “You’re so nice, big sis.” Her compliment made you smile.

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation. “Am I all done?”

You nodded. “You’re free to go.” You announced. Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name. “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave. As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand. Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before. It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time. Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation. It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear. The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past. It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

* * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible. To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores. He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels. His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you. The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before. But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake. He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it. It shouldn’t be important. You shouldn’t be important. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.

The cleaning only occupied him for so long. Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them. He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories. Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands. The cigarette was gone within a minute. The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort. So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids. His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face. Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal. It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space. His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself. They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret. But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind. How did you fold your towels?

Idiot. He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague. Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind. He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence.

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar. A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated. Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him. The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination. No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

* * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes. You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects.

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles. Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up. You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand. Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked. You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction. “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind. “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…? Maybe Dabi said something the day before. Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded. “She might throw it up. She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank. No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits. Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it. You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile. “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up. “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented. “However, Kurogiri is supervising her. Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high. I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered. “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled. “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents. It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh! One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.” Toga explained. Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table. “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated. “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides. “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray. Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him. “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill. But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward. Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne. Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be. The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date. You wanted to laugh. Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates. In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t his type anyway. And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage. Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together. He needed someone he could trust. He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact. He needed a friend. You could do that. You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag. If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills. It was about time for it anyway. With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch. Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form. You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants. Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain. He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems. Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in. You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips. His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing. If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down. “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice? How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog. Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted. The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness. The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence. Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth. Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered. All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival. A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with. You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls. With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.” He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog. He gave you a soft glare. “Why did you even take this? You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased. “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.” You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it. That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk. “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes! So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back. It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander. “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first. If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl. “Fine, you big baby.”

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth. He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful. Definitely burnt. And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth. You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.” Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back. “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.”

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll? You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “Don’t try to act like you know me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. So eat up.” You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose. He pushed the bowl away back towards you. “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.” He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed. “and she had Kurogiri with her, too. Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed. “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm. “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head. Dinner date. Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it. The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks. Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you. He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits. But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him. Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table. You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off. But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload. But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could. More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed. You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment. You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.” He finally said. He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips. “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball. You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face. “Yeah, thanks.” You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it. “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway. “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first. Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.”

Was it a lie? Of course. You were starving. Did Dabi know that you were lying? Of course. But he took the other half of the muffin anyway. You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

“Are those my towels?” you asked.

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end. Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now. Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before. He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal. Bringing ramen. Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something. You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes. Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster. As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle. His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills. He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it. “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space. “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile. “It is. But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower. You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch. The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze. As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night. There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him. Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off? About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted.

“I’m not talking about the pain. I’m talking about… I don’t know. Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone. “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll. Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face. Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified. You needed to understand more. You needed to know how bad it was. “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling. Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions? You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night. Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with. You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing. “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing. Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again. And certainly not twice in one day. You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them. Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk.

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back? What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand. They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little. “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you. You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips. You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured. “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself. His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state. You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did. I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied. “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him. “NO!” You finally exclaimed. “Of course, I didn’t! Why would you even…” but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you.

You playfully punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed. “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back. “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit. With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower. You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind. You weren’t here for this. You were here to treat him and get out of his space. You weren’t his type. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice. Why did he have to be such a flirt? It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time. Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there. You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today. Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip. It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty. How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face.

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now. You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew. In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you. It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered. “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided. “Of course I’m going to do your legs. The better I treat you, the better you can rest. And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll. I won’t be needing them. Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing. “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk. “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable. Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen. But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure. He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up. He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you. What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery. Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears. Was it multiple sensory attacks? You flinched again. And again. There was a rhythm. So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out. Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper. He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears. He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point. But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave? Why stay here if it was bothering you this much? Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter. You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling. The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes. Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized. The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room. Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag. It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so. Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door. After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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spencerhotchner · 3 years

Text

finally safe {spencer reid}

summary: life has been unkind to you but when you feel like giving up, Spencer is right there to help you out.

warnings: depression, suicide attempt, suicide planing, drug abuse, a lot of angst, swearing and my bad grammar (if u find anything else pls lemme know)

word count: 1.1k

A/N: this isn’t my finest work, i haven’t written in a while and i wrote this to comfort myself, this is how i wish it was to my gf who committed suicide last year. this is fully based on her story and what she told me about it. if you are struggling, pls reach out! there’s always another way.

As soon as you opened your eyes, you felt disappointed. Damn, when would it work? The amount of pills you took we’re supposed to have killed you, and yet you have woken up. Again. You’re starting run out of options, you’re staring to get desperate. The world is suffocating you.

You looked to the clock to see what time was it and how late were you. Since you did not even plan on waking up, no alarms were programmed. As soon as you saw it was almost noon, you freaked out.

“Fuck!” you curse to yourself.

Hurrying up to check your phone to see if the team needed anything. A few missed calls from Hotch, Spencer and Emily, Spencer had also sent text messages.

Spence: y/n, is everything good? 8:38

Spence: you’re never this late 9:00

Spence: y/n????? 9:52

Spence: i’m worried pls answer 10:12

A smile was inevitable, you loved him too much and it sure felt good to know he wanted to know how you were doing. However, as fast as the smile came it disappeared, you did not want him to worry about you, you did not want him to be stuck with you. He deserved so much more, in your mind. You felt the tears coming as you started typing.

You: hi, spence! i’m good, i think i have the flu or something... don’t worry! 11:54

You: i’m about to call hotch about it. thanks for checking in tho! 11:54

Spence: oh i’m sorry to hear that :( hope u gonna feel fine soon, i already miss you here! 11:56

Truth is, you wouldn’t call Hotch. Not knowing he would noticed something was up, he always did, after all, he was good at his job. You sent a quick text to him, letting him know that you’re sick, that should be enough since you’re never absent at work.

You blocked your phone starring at the ceiling. This night, it would be this night. You were sure about your decision, you highly doubt anyone could change your mind. You looked at the bathroom seeing your pills, those didn’t work. But maybe the will tonight, you thought.

You ordered your favorite lunch, penne con pesto alla genovese and enjoyed every single piece of it, after all it would be your last one. Doing stuff for the last time made you enjoy them, more then you have in a pretty long time. You liked it.

Soon enough you started writing letters, to each one of your close friends and boyfriend. You knew they loved you and knew they would miss you, that is why you want to assure they will not take it up on them. They needed to understand that your pain, unfortunately, was grater than that. It was unbearable. When you were done with the last one, which as Spencer’s, there were tears all over the paper. You laughed a bit thinking he would profile it.

Now, what kind of medicine would kill me? you began thinking. You freaking took 10 pills of clonazepam and did not work, maybe 20? That was the exact moment you looked at the balcony. That’s it. That was perfect, the chances of survival would be less than 10%.

You spent the whole afternoon eating ice cream and watching Friends, laughed a bit and enjoyed your last moments. It was about 8 p.m when Spencer called you. You smiled a bit about it, his voice.

“Hey, just wanted to check up on you.” he says. “I’ve been kinda worried about you.”

You’re heart aches, you did not want this. You did not want him feeling stuck with you and your bad feelings.

“Hi, um, I’m good, Spence.” you answer. “Just kinda tired.”

“You sure, baby?” you can picture the exact face he’s doing.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m sure.” you say and laugh. “I... I love you, like, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Y/N...” you can hear his voice getting worried.

“Don’t forget that, please. I’m so thankful for everything you have done do me and for all we lived.” you can feel the tears coming, but you would not let it show. He did not need to worry.

“I could never forget it, Y/N.” he lets a sigh out of his mouth. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because I am, it’s important to tell the people you love how much you love them, you know?”

“Right...” he says. “I love you.”

“Love you more, bye, Spence.”

As quick as ever you hang up the phone, the tears started to come as heavy as they could. Why was all this happening to you? It had to be right now. You had to go right now. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You took a look in the mirror just to see yourself once more. Observe every single detail, those that you hate and understand why you’re doing it. You needed to see how bad and broken you looked, you deserved the pain. Then you walked to your balcony, staring a bit at the sky, it look beautiful tonight. You put one of your legs out and the other one is still inside, while you’re looking at how tall your apartment is placed in.

The concentration you had in your actions was so big that you did not notice when your front door had been opened. Spencer walked, calmly towards you. Trying not to scare his girlfriend, so that she wouldn’t fall.

“Babe...” you hear. “Look at me, please.”

You close your eyes as you turn to face your boyfriend. As soon as you open your eyes you regret doing it. His eyes looked sad and disappointed. He was disappointed at you.

“Just... Just go, Spence. You don’t have to watch this.” you say.

“Y/N, just... Please get down.” he comes a little bit closer. “I wanna help you, I wanna be here for you and I can’t do it if you’re not here.” takes another step. “I can’t loose you, I can’t live without you, Y/N...”

“I-I can’t do this anymore, Spence...” you let a sob out. “It hurts too much...”

You close your eyes once again, trying to stop the tears. You didn’t have time to open your eyes before you felt two hands on you, bringing you back to your apartment, and then hugging you tightly.

“I-I’m so sorry” you say while sobbing. “I-I...”

“Shh, it’s ok...” your boyfriend tells you while hugging you even more. “I’m right here, and I won’t go anywhere. I love you, Y/N.”

You tried to say something but nothing would come out if not sobs. You felt Spencer’s arms holding you so tight and you felt like home, like for the first time in a while, things would be ok. Maybe, suicide wasn’t the way, after all. You open your eyes looking

“Thank you, Spence.” you were finally able to say something. “Thank you, for doing this.”

“There’s nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for you.” he says. “Let me... Let me help you, please.”

You nod, resting your head on his chest, finally feeling like you had been found. Finally feeling safe.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid suicide #spencer reid depression #spencer reid tw #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x depressed!reader #spencer reid fanfic

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buckybarnesdollface · 3 years

Text

Is This A Bad Time?

Summary: Bucky's so desperate to see his girl after a long mission, he rushes to her place without stopping at the compound to debrief. Poor Steve ends up on the end of a phone call he most definitely didn't want to be on.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, f/m, embarrassed Steve Rogers, Bucky and reader are both cheeky little shits

“Honey, I’m home!”

I let the dishcloth fall into the sink and then I was running out to the hallway as my heart beat erratically in excitement. He stood in the doorway, still in full tactical gear, dark circles under his blue eyes and a few scrapes on his stubbled face, but a wide grin curved his lips upward when I skidded into the hallway to greet him.

“Bucky…” I breathed, and when he held open his arms I threw myself into them and pressed my face into his chest. He smelled like smoke and sweat and leather but after three weeks of not seeing him while he was on mission in Lisbon all I cared about was that he was warm and solid and here.

“Missed you, doll,” he murmured into my hair, arms tightening around me.

“I missed you, too. Three weeks is too long.”

Bucky pulled away from me, blue eyes sparkling. “Aw, baby girl, did ya miss me lovin’ on ya every night?” he teased, and I gave him a wicked smirk.

“Maybe a little,” I taunted. “Good thing I kept that vibrator Nat gave me for the secret Santa last year; it got me through more than a few lonely nights.”

Just as I’d hoped, I struck the right nerve. Bucky’s eyes narrowed as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “You tellin’ me you’ve been gettin’ yourself off without me, doll?” he said in a low voice, and I shrugged.

“Like I said, soldier; three weeks is too long.” I winked at him. “Don’t worry; I still screamed your name if that makes you feel better.”

The next thing I knew, I was pushed up against the wall and his body was pressed against mine. I couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped my lips when he fitted a thick thigh between my legs, and a devilish grin stretched his lips slowly.

“Oh, baby girl,” he breathed. “I missed the pretty sounds that you make.”

I fought to keep my composure, but three weeks of living without his touch had me melting against him now. “When did you get back?” I asked him, and he grinned.

“Just now.”

My eyes widened. “You didn’t even check in at the compound? Buck, you’re supposed to debrief after every mission, or at least let someone know you’re back,” I scolded.

“I did let someone know,” he murmured, nose skimming along my jaw as his hands slipped under my shirt and gripped the flesh of my hips. “As soon as I landed I came right to your place to tell you I’m back.”

I wanted to scold him more, but oh, his hands on me felt so good and his words had my heart fluttering. “Bucky…” I breathed, and he ducked his head to pepper kisses along my throat.

“Had to see my best girl before I did anything else,” Bucky mumbled into my skin. “Had to show her just how much I’ve missed her the past few weeks.”

Losing the last of my resolve, I crashed my lips to his, hands fumbling to unzip his leather jacket and slide it from his shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud, and then Bucky’s hands were sliding under my thighs and lifting me up as he kissed me hungrily. He carried me to the bedroom and dropped me onto the bed.

Deft fingers made quick work of the laces of his combat boots, and then he was kicking them off and climbing onto the bed after me. His lips reattached to mine as his hands massaged my breasts over the thin cotton of my t-shirt.

“Mmm, no bra,” he murmured. “It’s like you knew I was coming home, doll.” I keened when he pinched my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, back arching off the mattress. “So responsive. Can’t believe I went three weeks without this.”

“Need you, Buck,” I whined shamelessly.

“Not near as bad as I need you, doll.” Bucky was quick to rid me of my shirt, mouth latching onto a nipple, and I gasped. His flesh hand slid down my body to slip under the waistband of my leggings, and he groaned as his fingers swept through my folds. “Already drippin’ for me, baby doll. Can’t wait to get a taste of this.”

I shook my head, fingers curling around the front of his Henley. “Later,” I panted. “Right now I just need to feel you inside me.”

The smug look on Bucky’s face transformed into something darker, and then he was practically tearing the rest of our clothes from our bodies. Lining himself up with my entrance, he slid into me in one forceful thrust. I cried out, nails scratching down his back as his length filled me completely, stretching me until it was almost painful. Bucky groaned, face pressed into my neck as he held still to give me time to readjust to him, his flesh hand kneading the flesh of my hip.

“Fuck, doll,” he grunted. “You good? ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can hold still.”

In answer I rolled my hips up into his and his fingers on me tightened. I whimpered as he pulled out of me and then thrust back in, slow but forceful, unable to focus on anything but how good it felt to finally have him inside me again after three weeks apart. He didn’t miss a beat, hitting all the spots in me that had me a whiny mess for him in no time.

“Bucky…” I keened as he delivered a particularly hard thrust, and his lips curved up into a grin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praised. “Let me hear you. God, I missed the pretty noises that mouth of yours makes when I’m inside you.”

His words sent a fresh flood of arousal to my core, and I had just pulled him in for a searing kiss when all of a sudden his phone began to ring, the sound shrill and harsh in a room that was silent save for our sharp breaths and flesh against flesh.

I paused, but Bucky’s thrusts didn’t cease. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“But it could be important –”

Bucky cut me off as he lifted my hips off the mattress to hook my legs around him, hitting me at a new angle that left me breathless.

“This is what’s important,” he growled, one hand snaking up my torso to pinch a nipple. I squeaked and he smirked. “I haven’t seen my best girl in three weeks. My top priority right now is making up for those three weeks.”

Eventually the phone stopped ringing, and with a grin Bucky resumed his movements with more vigor.

“So good, doll,” he grunted a couple of minutes later, after we’d both fallen back into the previous pace we’d set. My head fell back into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut as I felt the coil tightening in my belly. I was so close…

The phone ringing sounded even more shrill and annoying the second time. I opened my eyes to give Bucky a pointed look. He pursed his lips and then reached over to the bedside table to pick it up and check the screen.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Steve,” he replied, and then to my shock he shut the phone off and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed with a dull thud on the pile of our discarded clothes on the floor. My eyes widened.

“Bucky!” I cried. “You can’t just do that!”

“I can,” he murmured, trailing open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, “and I did.” His hands roamed my curves as he rutted into me. “Like I said, doll; you’re my priority right now. Everything else can wait until later.”

I wanted to argue with him – I had told myself when we’d first started seeing each other that I wouldn’t let myself get between him and his work. Being an Avenger meant he had responsibilities that often had to come before anything else, and I respected that. But god, the way he felt on top of me and inside me right now…He could tell me he planned on stealing the Mona Lisa and I wouldn’t care as long as he kept making me feel this good.

In one swift move Bucky rolled over, putting me on top. His hands on my hips were firm as he rocked me against him, and the moan that escaped my lips was obscene. Bucky smirked, but that smirk quickly turned into a sinful groan when I bent down to suck lightly on the pulse point at his throat. His hands slid from my hips to my ass, kneading the flesh and then delivering a quick but sharp slap that had me crying out his name and adding more heat to my already-flooded core. Just a few more well-placed thrusts and I would be…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bucky snarled as we were interrupted for a third time. This time it was my phone, and for a second Bucky looked like he was contemplating throwing it against the wall across the room.

“Don’t even think about it, Barnes,” I warned, and with a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated sigh he reached across the bed to answer the call and put it on speakerphone. I made to slide off of him, but the vibranium hand still on my hip held me firmly in place.

“I swear to god, Rogers, the world better be fucking ending right now or I’m gonna kill you,” Bucky growled, and I arched an eyebrow at him, which he only returned with a shrug.

“I knew you were at (Y/N)’s,” Steve replied accusingly over the speaker. “That explains why you’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“Yeah, of course I’m at (Y/N)’s,” Bucky retorted. “I haven’t seen my girl in three weeks; where else would I be?”

“How about in your debriefing meeting? You know the protocol, Buck. We debrief before we do anything else. Tony is pissed.”

“Tony can suck it,” Bucky muttered. I stifled a snort and Steve sighed.

“Not to mention the fact that you didn’t even let anyone know you had returned. What if something had happened to you, jerk? We’d have no idea.”

“Stop being such a punk, Steve. The quinjets all have GPS on them, you knew I was back in New York.”

“Can you just get to the compound ASAP so we can do this debriefing? If you hurry up, we can get it done and over with.”

“Can’t, Stevie, I’m a little busy right now. The debriefing can wait till later; nothing’s gonna change.” As he said this, his fingertips traced the dips and swells of my body with the lightest of touches, raising goosebumps on my skin and having me involuntarily rocking my hips against his. Caught off-guard, Bucky let out a grunt and we both froze, our eyes wide.

“What was that?” Steve asked, and I watched as the flush crept up Bucky’s neck to his cheeks.

“I, uh…tripped,” Bucky lied, “over (Y/N)’s cat.”

I had to bite down on my hand to keep from laughing. Bucky glared at me, but there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“You tripped over a cat,” Steve deadpanned, clearly not buying it. “Mhmm. Since when are you clumsy enough to trip over a cat?”

“Since I just spent three weeks on a mission in Lisbon,” Bucky replied. “I’m exhausted.”

His voice was tight, but not because he was annoyed with Steve. I had started rolling my hips against his, growing impatient with this phone call. Bucky’s eyes widened, and his jaw clenched as he fought to control his breathing. He narrowed his eyes at me, but I only smiled sweetly.

“I get that you’re tired, Bucky,” Steve sighed on the other end of the line, “but we’ve got responsibilities. Let’s just get this debriefing over with. It’ll take twenty minutes, and then you can spend the next two weeks with (Y/N) if you want to.”

A wicked grin on my face, I traded in grinding my hips into his for bouncing up and down, his cock sliding in and out of me deliciously. Bucky’s jaw went slack, and then he was sucking in a deep breath before speaking. “I told you, Steve, I’m…Fuck.” His eyes fluttered shut and his head hit the pillows as I picked up the pace. He waited until his breathing evened out before continuing. “I’m busy,” he finished, and I smirked as he shot me a look that screamed, “You’re in trouble.”

“Busy doing what?” Steve demanded, his voice rising. “What the hell is going on over there that has you disregarding protocol?”

With a devilish grin, Bucky lifted his vibranium hand to where we were joined and pressed his thumb to my clit. He began to rub circles on it with increasing pressure, and even though I fought hard to contain myself I was so tightly wound by this point that even the slightest pressure had me wrecked. I let out a sound between a whine and a moan, and Bucky looked triumphant as I fell forward until our chests were pressed together. He thrusted up into me slowly and I held my breath, knowing there was no way Steve hadn’t heard me.

Things were silent for a moment, and then a cough came from Steve’s end. “Are you…Are you guys…?” he choked, unable to finish the question. My cheeks were flaming and I buried my face against Bucky’s shoulder; to hide my embarrassment or to keep from laughing I wasn’t even sure. Bucky was full-on laughing, his chest rumbling beneath me.

“I told you I was busy, Stevie,” he chuckled pointedly. “Maybe you should have just left me alone.”

Just imagining the flustered look on Steve’s face was enough to send me into a fit of giggles, and then Bucky and I were both laughing. Steve finally cut us off, his tone clipped.

“You two are both disturbed individuals,” he said. “Just…” He stopped, as if to shake his head. “I expect you to be here in an hour.”

Bucky smirked. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he taunted, and then he hung up the phone before Steve could say anything else. We both burst into fresh fits of laughter.

“Poor Stevie,” I breathed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to face him again.”

“Maybe he should have minded his own business, then.” Bucky’s hands grabbed onto my ass and squeezed playfully. “Now, where were we? We still have at least half an hour before I have to leave and there are so many things I want to do to you in that time.”

As he spoke, he thrusted up into me hard, and my gasp quickly turned into a wicked grin. I was so glad to have him home.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #marvel #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #post mission #smut #fluff #cheeky #embarrassed steve rogers #f/m

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Family Sickness ~ Jung Hoseok

His eyes settled on your figure laid out on the sofa with your two children curled up beside you as he walked in from his day. As quiet as he tried to be, your eyes slowly opened at the sound of footsteps walking through the house.

“Hey,” Hobi whispered, tiptoeing across to the sofa where the three of you laid out. “How are you all feeling?” He asked, pressing his hand to the back of his children’s head softly.

Your head shook, feeling their body heat pressed against your side making your own temperature even more unbearable. “They’ve slept for hours,” you sighed, “my bum is numb right now, I can’t move at all.”

“Maybe we need to wake them for a bit, have they had any medicine recently?” He asked you, frowning as your head shook. “How about I try and cook some dinner for everyone? There’s got to be a recipe somewhere that can try and help.”

Your head nodded, feeling your son begin to stir first at the sound of your father’s voice. “Hey little guy,” Hobi whispered as his eyes opened, sleepily rubbing them as he stirred.

“Head,” he muttered, resting back against your shoulder once his eyes had opened. You sighed softly, staring helplessly across at Hobi. “My head really hurts, what do we do?”

“Hold on,” Hobi sighed, racing into the kitchen to try and find the pain relief, bringing it over as soon as he had his hands on it. “This will help,” Hobi frowned, helping his son to sit up so that he could take the medicine much easier.

As your son sat up, your daughter began to stir, crying out that her body was aching. She turned tighter into your chest, crying your name out to try and help her get rid of the cold that had been tormenting her for days now.

“What do I do?” You asked Hobi.

“Let me take them for a while, then you can rest.”

“I can’t let you be the only one to take care of them,” you sighed, holding your daughter tightly into your chest as you sat yourself up, flinching at the bright light that came through the window as you came to eye level with it.

His head shook, laying the two of them against the sofa, whilst giving you a hand up, listening to you groan as your body moved for the first time in hours. “You’ve had them all day, so let me take over for a little while.”

“I’ll help you to sort dinner out,” you informed him, groggily walking towards the kitchen. As you did, a pair of arms wrapped around you, sitting you back down as Hobi assured you that dinner was all under control by him.

Before you even had chance to sit back down on the sofa, your two little ones were out yet again with light snores escaping. You sat yourself in between them, pressing your hands to your temple as you tried to push your own headache to one side, basking in the silence of the room until Hobi reappeared half an hour later.

“Turns out I’m not as good at cooking as I think, but I’ve made soup to try and warm everyone up,” he smiled, taking a seat at the end of the sofa.

His hands slowly reached out, shaking your son first. He was gentle with his touch, waiting until his eyes had opened to shake your daughter awake too, encouraging them to stand up.

“Shall we just eat in here?” You suggested as they began to protest that they were far too tired to move, “I’m sure being ill is an excuse to eat in the living room.”

“I’ll go and bring it all in,” Hobi smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of each of your heads before walking back to the kitchen. Your eyes lit up the moment he returned with four bowls of soup on a tray, the delicious smell filling the room immediately,

You stood up and pulled the coffee table across for the bowls to rest on, making life much easier for your children as they cried out for a bit of warmth from the soup.

Whilst your children shuffled forwards on the sofa, you and Hobi made yourselves comfortable on the floor at the other side of the table. Your legs rested in his lap as his free hand massaged circles gently against your skin to relieve some of your stress.

“How is it?” He questioned, watching as everyone smiled at the taste.

“It’s nice,” your daughter whimpered, her voice still groggy. “This is exactly what I needed dad, for once, you’ve done a good job at cooking.”

You let go of a loud chuckle, your daughter not missing her sense of humour since coming down with the flu. Hobi gasped gently, nudging her arm softly, watching as she exaggerated the pain she felt at Hobi’s feathery touch.

Once the four of you had finished what you could manage of your soups, Hobi quickly cleared the room, making space yet again for everyone to lay back down on the sofa.

Seeing every member of his family sick was hard on him, he hated being the only one that felt well, he’d swap positions with any of you if he could. But it didn’t stop him from loving being the one to take care of you all and being the one you all relied upon.

“Let’s all lay on the sofa for a bit,” Hobi smiled as he returned from the kitchen with a pile of blankets in hand.

The two of you made yourselves comfortable on the sofa first before your son and daughter joined you, sleeping in the middle of you both, curled tightly into your sides. Your eyes glanced across at Hobi as they both soon shut their eyes.

“I hate seeing them like this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tops of their heads. “I’ve never seen them so quiet before, I thought I’d enjoy the silence, but now it’s beginning to eat away at me that they’re really not alright.”

“They seem to be getting better every day which is what is important right now,” you assured him, letting go of a quiet yawn. “All they’ve done is sleep today, they’ll be wide awake whenever they feel better with how much they’ve rested.”

“It looks like you need to get some rest too,” he pointed out, “you shouldn’t have to care for them when you’re not well yourself, it’s not fair on you when you need to sleep.”

“I don’t mind, they’ve not been too difficult to care for anyway.”

Hobi’s head nodded, pulling one of the blankets so it was tighter around your body, kissing the palm of his hand before placing it to the top of your head.

“You don’t need to worry about me Hobi, I can look after myself. It’s these two monkeys we should worry about right now.”

“I worry about you too,” he quickly assured you, “you don’t get a day off from being a mum, even though you’re sick as well. I really don’t know how you do it. I feel so helpless when I’m having to work, I should be the one here caring for you.”

“I’m getting better, and I’m doing alright. You’re needed much more at the studio than you are here with us. You don’t want to be catching a cold or anything when you’re so busy,” you reminded him, shaking your head across at him.

“It would be worth it if it meant that the three of you got better,” he mused.

“We’ll be better in no time, just wait and see.”

---

Masterlist

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calumxkisses · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Make You Love Me | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst (i’m sorry)

summary: part three of ‘Take My Breath Away’ (part 2 here)

a/n: hello everyone! here I am with part three! i made a promise, i know, and i honestly have no excuses for another angst part. in my defense, there’s going to be a last part, so we’ll see what is going to happen! please, let me know what you think about it and i hope this doesn’t disappoint your expectations. love you all! i also wanna say thank you to the anon who suggested the two songs, they were essential to the creation of this new part.

songs for this part: can’t make you love me ; whiskey and you ; i love you (choose your fighter)

♡♡♡

Calum was not used to believing in the signs of fate; of course, in everyday life, coincidences used to happen, but he had always stopped to call them that: coincidences. But maybe he was wrong, maybe there really were signs, and one of the certainties he had always carried with him was now crumbling.

First the fever: he hadn't been ill for years, a few colds every now and then, but never anything overly serious. Instead, this time he was hit with a bad flu, one that leads you to take too many medications to say "I'm fine" and that leads you to spend three weeks in bed. Three weeks, right around the time the wedding was planned.

Then, the wedding dress was lost. It was made by a stylist, his girlfriend's favorite, and it came straight from France. She had gone to choose it, try it out, customize it, and then never receive it. Apparently, someone had stolen it and they had to postpone the wedding: her grandmother wanted to give her the dress of her dreams (“After all, you only get married once in a lifetime!” The old lady's said) and so they had been forced to make another one from scratch, postponing the wedding.

And then the wedding rings had come in the wrong size, the church had been booked by another couple, everything seemed to prevent the couple from getting married.

She was exhausted, but she was still convinced to marry him.

Calum, however, was starting to think again: Michael had told him it was normal to feel stressed and unsure about the wedding before the big day, but he knew there was so much more. Or much less, when viewed from a different point of view. Something wasn't right and he had noticed it more and more.

The truth is, things haven't been going well for a while. The relationship was beautiful, spectacular from the outside, but in his dreams, things were different; he felt it, tried to reject those thoughts, but it wasn't easy.

So Luke had decided to throw him a party. A small party, without too many guests, to try to calm the bassist's nerves. He had invited their old group, the friends with whom they had been in the mountains to celebrate several New Years, with whom they had traveled to Bali more times than they wanted to admit and with whom he had spent happy moments. He wanted to remind him that despite everything, despite the new life that was about to begin, they would be there, by his side, ready to live this new adventure with him.

Calum absolutely didn't want to go to the party. He was obviously grateful to his friends for everything they had and were doing for him, but the only thing he wanted to do was stay home, under the covers, waiting for this to pass quickly and for it to finally be his turn to be happy. He was happy, but it didn't seem like the right happiness, he was experiencing someone's happiness. Of an old version of himself, probably.. but when had all this changed?

It was a question he had often been asking himself lately, usually accompanied by a few glasses of Whiskey. He did not even like that Jack Daniel's, but it seemed the ideal solution when all the weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, giving him a very strong headache, accompanied by the thousands of doubts that assailed him every day.

But she was always there, ready to close the bottle of alcohol and embrace all his insecurities, accompanying him to bed and hugging him in the dark of the night. She was an angel, and Calum knew it, she was ready to help him whenever he fell.

The room was crowded, although only few people showed up for the party. The place had been decorated with small colored lights, a recurring decoration at their parties, and on the tables there were all kinds of snacks: chips, popcorn, candies, pizza, any food that could have become a craving created by the alcohol.

The music played pop and rock hits, great classics that would please any music lover and that would be the ideal base for any type of dance that occupied the floor.

The girls were by the window, a beer pong table divided them into two teams, and little laughter spread throughout the room with each missed basket.

His girlfriend was talking with her friends while sipping sub-branded beer at every point of the other team, a smile was on her face as she told everyone about the different ideas she had for the ceremony.

Ashton and the others were a few feet away, their bodies forming a small circle, everyone seemed to be having a good evening commenting new albums and laughing at old jokes and moments spent together.

Calum didn’t belong to either group, he was on the sidelines of all the others, with a glass of alcohol in his hand, with his body in that room and his mind in a completely different universe. He was not in the mood, he was tired, he kept repeating to anyone who asked him the reason for this behavior and no one suspected anything or investigated in depth, because everyone knew that the preparations for a wedding were not easy, that having just released an album and preparing for a new life was tiring. Everyone understood and left him there, keeping him company only occasionally, when his eyes closed or became too glossy.

He was happy and he was really tired. Things had not gone according to plan and everything seems to be more difficult than he expected. He knew it, and he didn't blame himself for it. Everything would be fine, he would be happy and this would be the last climb before a big view. He would marry a beautiful woman, raise a family, all while pursuing his dream as a musician. Everything would be perfect, fine.

“What are you doing all alone here, loser?” A voice said at his side, a voice he hadn't heard in a long, long time, and that had missed like water in a desert. A familiar voice, which would have saved him from every bad thing.

Luke had called you just a few days before, finding you had been difficult given your continuous travels, but he knew that your presence was essential and he would have traveled the whole world to find you, pick you up and take you there. And not only because the curly-haired boy needed it, but because everyone missed you, because the concerts were no longer the same without you waiting for them with pizza and compliments for all of them.

Ashton had met you a few months earlier for a coffee in San Francisco because your absence had become painful for him too, he who was used to talking to you on the balcony of some hotel, under the sky of any city was hosting them.

You left, everyone knew you were going to, and no one had tried to stop you. You needed it. You were broken, you no longer had a certain future and you needed to find yourself, your peace, your happiness.

You didn’t know where you would find these things, so you decided to travel the world with the money you had saved and in the end you were able to find serenity, returning to yourself and the world no longer scared you.

You had missed Calum deeply and there had been so many times where you had found yourself with your cell phone in front of your eyes, with his contact on the screen, ready to call him.

And it had happened a couple of times, as the sun was rising where you were and setting where he was, and he had answered you, reassuring you that everything was going well. And you told him about the beautiful places you were visiting, about the cultures you were getting to know, and you found yourself laughing at the foods he would have never tried, but that you swore he would have loved.

Despite everything, as he promised you, he remained by your side and cared for you and that helped you to move forward. You still felt so much for him, and part of you would always love the boy with the pink mug and messy hair, but maybe now something had changed. Now your heart no longer hurted so much at the thought of a future without him by your side, and you really felt happiness when you thought about their wedding.

Sure, occasionally a few tears still fell, but the important thing was that you and Calum would be happy, even if not together.

“Doll.” It was the only thing he was able to say before hugging you tightly, with a huge smile on his face and his heart ready to explode with happiness.

And you knew that that 'doll' was worth more than the memory hidden behind the word, your badly done Halloween dress and the piece of paper stuck to your chest with your disguise written on it to help others understand.

That 'doll' carried with it all the moments you hadn't spent together, all the movies you hadn't seen together on the sofa, all the moonlit walks with Duke, every Sunday at your family brunches - the family you created with all your friends, which hasn't been the same since you left.

Calum broke away from the hug and his eyes were wet, not from the hours spent awake at night but from the emotion he was feeling in seeing you. And all of a sudden, the room was empty and your presence was the only one that mattered.

Your hair had been cut to help your new start, but it had grown back and your skin sparkled like your eyes, full of life and happiness.

You were simply gorgeous, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And beautiful not only for your appearance, but for the light you radiated. You had brought back the light into his darkness and there was nothing he had needed more.

On the other hand, you couldn't say the same. Of course, he was as beautiful as the sun and that hadn't changed, but that sun wasn't shining anymore. His eyes were dull, his dark circles were darker and his face looked paler. His body no longer gave off joy, but it was just there, a normal body.

But you loved him all the same, because he was your Calum and you knew that it happened every now and then, that his world got darker, that his happiness was rarer, and you knew that you would do anything to make him feel better, to show him how much beautiful the world was thanks to his presence.

Because the world was a better place with Calum Hood in it.

“How are things going?” you asked, although you already knew the answer. Michael used to send you messages in which he updated you on their life without you and among the thousand news, he never forgot to tell you about Calum, how his life was progressing and how marriage was destroying him before he even got married.

“Harder than I thought, honestly. I'm a little stressed out, that's all.” He lied. You knew he was lying and he knew you knew, but that meant he didn't feel like talking about it right now, and that was okay. You didn't want to force him, he would open up when he felt the need and you would be there, because there was no reason to run away again.

“You stressed out? I would have never said that. You usually never take anything seriously.” You said giggling and giving him a friendly pat on the arm. He smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

“How are you instead?” He asked softly, ready to hear you talk again for hours, never getting tired of your voice. A voice that had become a habit over time, which in the darkest nights he heard repeatedly listening to the voice messages you left him.

“I'm fine, honestly. I liked Thailand a lot, it's really special. In the hotel in Bangkok there was a little black elephant walking around and I think I spent half my vacation petting it and the Thai culture is so beautiful, Calum! And Santorini, what a dream! I’m pretty sure that’s how heaven looks like.”

You kept talking, remembering the Asian sun on your skin and the taste of Greek sea water. It was a dream to be able to travel, visit places and cultures that you had imagined since childhood, totally different from what you were used to. You had missed not having someone by your side in exploring these wonders, but traveling alone had helped you, it had made you a different woman. And there would still have been the opportunity to return in the future, accompanied by anyone who wanted to have an adventure with you.

Calum paid attention to all the words that came out of your mouth, noticing the happiness in your eyes in remembering everything you had experienced. You had been happy, the broken heart had been replaced by so much joy.

He was really happy for you but, selfishly, he longed to see you again with a broken heart, because it would mean that you still loved him.

But Calum was careful to chase away certain thoughts from his head, after all it was he who didn't stop you, it was he who let you go because you needed it, because he broke your heart and you couldn't look for help in him.

“There is this pizzeria in Naples that makes the best pizza in the world, you should try it. Nothing compared to that kind of pizza we used to order during our Friday nights, it’s way better. And Rome by night is magical. I threw a coin in the Trevi fountain, you know? I know we don't believe in these things, but I wanted to make a wish anyway, you never know that magic really exists.”

Your voice kept repeating itself in his ears and while you joyfully told him about the wonderful places you had visited, Calum could do nothing but listen to you and imagine himself there with you, admiring the Italian sea of Naples and dancing in front of the Colosseum at night, away from the prying eyes of people, on the melodies of some street artist. There was nothing he wanted more than being there with you, away from all those lies that surrounded him.

And as soon as he heard the sound of your laughter, his heart expanded and Calum knew that nothing was going right because what was missing was you. It was you who filled his days, who made sure that the sun shone even on rainy days, which made the stars jealous of so much brilliance.

It was you who took the joy out of his life as soon as you turned the corner of that old building that long-gone night of his birthday. That January 25 night he had not only lost his best friend, but he had lost what made him choose life above all his negative thoughts.

As you told him about your adventures, you were careful to tell him only the happy moments, so that he didn't know about the bad days. But the truth was that everything hadn't gone so well and more than once you found yourself at the airport, ready to take the first plane to go back to him.

There had been many days in which you were locked in your hotel room, hidden under the covers, crying over the loneliness that would accompany you.

You had spent sleepless nights imagining him in his tuxedo, with his hair tidy - as far as possible - and with his usual spectacular smile on his face, on the altar of a church or on a beach of Balì, the same beach where he was lying next to you to observe the stormy sea, holding you tightly while reassuring you that you would be fine.

And then the dream would become a nightmare, and instead of seeing you in the white dress, you saw her, shining in her wedding dress, approaching him with her makeup smeared with tears of joy, ready to promise him an eternity of love.

And you were there, sitting on some distant bench or standing at the back of the church, helpless while losing your soul mate.

At the end of your travel, you hadn't visited France. You refused to visit the Tourre Effeil, to walk along the banks of the Seine and to lose yourself in the architecture of Notre Damè. Paris was your dream since you were little, you spent entire afternoons planning your vacation in the French capital and at the age of 13 you promised yourself that you would visit Paris only with your soulmate, only with the one that would have treated you like a queen and that would have loved you like in fairy tales.

And despite growing up, you wanted to keep the promise made to your little, innocent you. And so Paris was left out and you thought it would be forever, because the only person who could make thirteen-year-old you proud was in love with someone else.

Then the words ended and as the stereo played Queen songs, your eyes were lost in his. The outside noises seemed to belong to a different space and the world really seemed to revolve around you and Calum. There was no one left but you two, lost in each other's minds. Your hearts had stopped beating, there were only two separate souls, ready to intertwine together. There was no longer just Calum or just you, there was you, together. Something was different, right.

Nothing mattered anymore and even the eyes of the boy in front of you seemed to have regained their brightness.

His hand stroked your face, gently bringing the wisps of hair on your face behind your ear, his touch was reassuring and you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

Calum took a step forward and you didn't move, his free hand took yours in his and you didn't pull it back, his gaze moved to your lips and yours to his, and neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to leave, too caught up in the moment.

“Hey, I didn't know you were coming!” A soft voice said behind you, and the bubble created by you and Calum burst. You moved away, your hearts beating again. She was there, next to him, neither of you had noticed her coming, but her presence could no longer go unnoticed. It wouldn't have been fair.

In the end, he had chosen her. His heart was beating for another girl, whether you liked it or not. His feelings were for her and it was okay, it had to be okay. You didn't go around the world for nothing. Your heart was broken, but now it was healed. Things had to stay that way.

You were happy like that.

“How are you doing?” She asked in her sweet voice. Her arm intertwined with the boy's and her eyes were watching you intently, interested in what your answer would be. She was so kind, so innocent, and for no reason was she jealous of you. She was perfect.

“Good! Ready to go back to everyday life, you?” You answered smiling at her. There was no way to hate her, you couldn't. You could envy her, sure, but in no way could you hate her. There was no reason to.

“A little stressed out but I can't wait to get married. It was more difficult than expected but my dream is coming true, you know? I'm not giving up now.” A laugh escaped her lips and joy was visible on her face.

You smiled and looked at Calum quickly, making sure he was still there. His body was mainly turned towards her but his gaze was on you.

He would have never left you anymore, He had lost you once and he wanted to make sure that that would never happen again. An awareness was making its way into his body, his mind was realizing that something, someone was wrong.

Things were about to change, someone would suffer but someone else was going to be happy forever. Things would no longer stay that way. It was time for things to go in the right way and he knew it.

It had been your laugh, your presence or maybe even your absence, but Calum finally understood.

What he didn't know, though, was that yes, things were about to change, but not for the better. He would be the one to suffer this time.

“Wait, is that a ring I see on your finger?” The girl said pointing to your left hand and making a little cry of joy. Your gaze shifted to the ring that now occupied your finger, a small smile formed on your face but your heart didn't seem to reciprocate the feeling. The gaze of the boy was now pointed at your hand.

Something changed.

In Tokyo, precisely, an angel had come down from heaven and stretched out his hand to you. And the sun was shining again, the cherry trees were filled with flowers and life was less disgusting. Your heart was full and not even the return trip could make your mood worse, because you were not alone anymore. The days were full of color again and the world no longer seemed black and white. Your future was full of hope, love, happiness. And you wouldn't have been hurt anymore, maybe, for a while.

A stranger had suddenly arrived in your life, with a happy smile and open arms, ready to pick up all your pieces and show you that you were worth it. He had made you see that everything would turn out for the best, ending up filling your heart with joy and love. It had been sudden, like Calum's proposal, but this surprise had been positive.

Then he had given you a ring, a promise ring, not for a wedding - it was too early, although the feelings were growing fast - but to promise you that he would be there, as long as there was a chance. That he wouldn't hurt you and that he would take care of you. That he would love you, whatever love is. He promised you that everything would be fine.

“Yes, it's a promise ring.” You smiled thinking about it. You were happy, right? Yes, you were. You were happy, you had to be. Someone was loving you. Still, there was something different, but this wasn't the right time to think about it, after all, you still had to get used to this big change.

Of course, the feelings for the guy in front of you would always remain, for years you were convinced that he was your soulmate, but things had gone differently. And it didn't have to be a bad thing. Finally you would be happy, not together, but still side by side. There was no more reason to run away, you could continue being friends now, without excessive feelings or broken hearts.

Calum's world, however, had collapsed. It had rolled over, traveled at the speed of light and collided with his biggest fear, and it was destroyed. Not to mention his heart, reduced to thousands of bits that not even the strongest glue would be able to reattach together. His chest really hurted, as did his stomach and head, and the flu from several months ago seemed nothing in comparison. Even the mornings when he woke up with a hangover didn't hurt that much, because that pain passed. This, however, would never pass.

Calum was in love with you. Deeply, with all of himself. He didn't want to admit it at first,it would have caused a huge disaster, but he couldn't keep lying to himself, it wouldn't do him any good.

Sure, he had feelings for his girlfriend, but it wasn't you. And he had noticed it. He used to believe that the strong affection he felt towards you was just affection, but the months in your absence had been devastating, and it wasn't normal. He wouldn't have suffered so much for a mutual friend, but for you it was different.

He loved you, and how deeply he loved you. Just a few minutes before he was ready to kiss you, no guilt assaulting him and he was ready to throw away months of wedding preparations for you.

It was you now, however, who no longer loved him. And the pain he felt was probably what you had felt over a year ago when it broke your heart. It was his fault, however, that he had come too late to a conclusion that everyone had come before.

He loved you, but you loved another, and Calum knew there was nothing more to be done now.

You would have remained friends, sure, but things would definitely change now. Before, at least, there was a chance to go back. He would not get married and his kitchen would be filled with the smell of biscuits again, accompanied by the scattered flour and your dirty clothes, victims of food wars and laughs.

But now you too were engaging with another person and those moments seemed to drift further away and to belong to a distant, unattainable, unique past.

And while you and his fiancée - a name that no longer made him smile - happily talked about your news, Calum thought there was nothing more to be done.

He could have pulled back, but for what purpose? To spend a life alone? Maybe, one day his heart would start beating again for what would become his wife and in the meantime he would give her joy, because she deserved it. She would take care of him and he wouldn't spend sleepless nights in bed alone.

So Calum drank what was left in his glass in one gulp and apologizing to th two of you, he went over to the drink table and opened a new bottle. And as the alcohol dripped into his glass, tears streamed down his face, mixing with the drink he held in his hand. He didn't even bother wiping them, he was with his back to people and away from anyone who could see him, and he just stood there for a moment, hating himself and hating you, for being so damn beautiful and in love with another, for making his heart beating again just to break it,but the truth was that there was no way he could hate you.

He loved you too much and he was ready to sacrifice everything to see you happy, even himself.

“It’s gonna get better, mate.” Someone softly whispered behind him before hugging him.

Ashton had witnessed everything from afar, had seen his friends in love, ready to conquer the world together, and then he had seen them hurt themselves, destroy their happiness for each other, unaware that there was no reason to do so. And even his heart ached.

Calum continued to cry, trying not to attract attention and letting himself be held by his best friend.

Was everything really going to be better?

-----

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum thomas hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #calum hood angst #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #calum imagine #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos angst #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #angst

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi wan x you #obi-wan series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi-wan x oc

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