#her: since I can’t bring you soup

[booksinpiles]

#recent purchases #mom sent me a gift card 🎉 #her: since I can’t bring you soup #🥺 #horror

[daycourtofficial]

Come to Bed

Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.

Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh

Az: Come to bed :(

It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.

He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.

But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.

Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.

But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.

Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.

Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me to come to bed.”

Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.

“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.

Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”

“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.

“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.

Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“

Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”

Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.

“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”

Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.

Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.

Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.

“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”

Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.

You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”

You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.

The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.

“Sleep well?”

He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.

“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.

“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”

You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.

“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”

You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.

“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”

“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

[starryeyedjanai]

@steddieholidaydrabbles valentine's day prompt | read on ao3 tags: established relationship, fluff

“Wait, how is it possible that you’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date?” Eddie asks. “You literally dated Nancy for almost a year.”

Steve shrugs. “She was sick that week. I had something planned, but had to cancel. I brought her soup and stayed with her for a little while, but it wasn't really the date I had hoped for, you know?”

In the nine months he and Steve have been dating, Steve has gotten better about asking for what he wants, but he still gets weird about some things though. So Eddie knows he’s bringing this up a couple weeks before Valentine’s Day for a reason—that even though he can’t really say it, he wants to have Valentine’s Day plans with Eddie.

So Eddie starts planning.

His plan starts with breakfast in bed because he doesn't want to take away from whatever Steve’s got planned for dinner — he knows Steve will probably plan something romantic for that.

His suspicions about that are proven right when Steve not so casually asks at the beginning of the week if he has “dinner plans on Saturday” as if Eddie won’t remember that’s the 14th. He plays along and says he doesn't have any plans yet, watching as Steve tries to hide his small smile behind his hand. He’s so fucking cute.

On Valentine’s Day, Eddie wakes up earlier than he has since he graduated high school and makes his way over to Steve's with his supplies.

He lets himself into the house with the key Steve had given him a few months ago and gets to work quietly making breakfast.

He mixes the waffle mix before he puts a pot of coffee on, fiddling with the coffee machine that he’s only used a few times because Steve tends to wake up before him and already have it brewed.

He hums quietly to himself as he cooks the bacon and eggs, the waffles cooking away in the waffle iron.

When the food is done, he grabs the tray he brought with him and arranges flower petals around the plate. He turns to grab a coffee mug and nearly has a heart attack at the sight of Steve leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, watching as Steve starts to walk forward towards him.

“A few minutes. I woke up and heard something and figured you must be down here,” Steve says, coming to a stop right in front of Eddie. He’s smiling softly and his eyes are fond and happy and Eddie gets lost in them for a moment before he remembers—

“Wait, no, go back to bed! This is supposed to be breakfast in bed!”

Steve brings a hand up to push Eddie's hair out of his face and cup his neck. He says, “Breakfast in bed is a really sweet idea, but I don't think I could handle the crumbs,” and Eddie groans.

He forgot how much of a stickler Steve is for not having food in his room. “I wanted to be romantic!” he whines, sticking his bottom lip out. Steve swoops in and kisses it softly.

“It was very romantic to wake up to the smell of coffee and come down here to see you singing and cooking me breakfast,” he says, thumb stroking over Eddie's cheek.

Eddie leans into the touch and says, “Go sit at the table and I’ll bring it to you. At least let me have that.”

Steve smiles wider and says, “Okay, love.”

Eddie pours them both a cup of coffee, adding sugar and cream to Steve's, repeating what he’s seen him do countless mornings, before he finishes plating the food.

He grabs the tray and his own plate and brings them to the dining room, setting the tray in front of Steve.

He’s about to go sit in the chair next to him when Steve pulls him into his lap.

Eddie laughs and turns in his lap so he’s sitting sideways and not blocking the food.

“You shaped the eggs like hearts,” Steve says, looking up at Eddie.

Eddie sets his plate down on the table and kisses Steve, soft and slow.

“I think this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Steve says when he pulls back. His eyes are shining a little.

“You deserve romantic things,” Eddie says, kissing Steve's temple. “You deserve all the romantic things, in fact. I have a whole day of romantic things planned just for you.”

“The whole day?” Steve asks, surprised.

“What, did you think I’d feed you breakfast and then just leave you alone the rest of the day?” Eddie asks with a playful scoff. “We’re gonna eat breakfast and then we’re gonna watch the cheesy romantic comedy I rented. Then we’re gonna go to Lover’s Lake and have a picnic in the back of my van. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll let you have your way with me before you whisk me off to whatever dinner plans you made.”

Steve has the nerve to look caught out at that last bit. “You knew?” he asks, mouth pulled into a cringing smile.

“I know you, darling,” Eddie says, grinning at him. “You’re a romantic.”

“This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever, spending the entire day doing what you planned,” Steve says, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s jaw. “But I hope you know I’m gonna woo you tonight. Sweep you off your feet.”

“Oh, are you now? How do you plan on doing that?” Eddie asks.

“It’s a surprise,” Steve says, voice teasing. He picks up his fork to start eating.

Eddie hums. “No thoughts about the having your way with me part of my plan?”

“Oh I have thoughts. Many, many thoughts,” Steve says, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Eddie's jaw. “I’ll try not to wear you out before dinner.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m holding you to that, big boy.”

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #janai.doc

[pianokantzart]

YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 

Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 

The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 

The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.

Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.

Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.

Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 

Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.

But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...

I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.

It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.

“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 

Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 

“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  

He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 

I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.

Conclusion:

There is a lot of love in the Mario family.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 

Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.

Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario brothers movie #Luigi #Mario #Not Art #mario commentary #This got a lot longer than I thought it would #There were a lot of thoughts #Super Mario Brothers #Long Post

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate - (3)

Following Instincts

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 3970

Work count for Story: 12111

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, Panic attacks, comfort, and Cultural differences.

Story Summary: The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

Outside the break room, Yoongi is in Alpha space, catching your scent of sweet peas as it changes into a moldy pea soup smell after the comment from the redheaded playmate. Turning with a low and threatening growl, Yoongi’s eyes have gone to his hybrid's bright golden-yellow cat eyes as he blocks you from their sight. Zeroing in on the playmates, tail raised and puffed out, tip twitching back and forth with a snap of irritation, making them all step back and quiet down. Hearing you murmur something in his native tongue and then the frantic footsteps, Yoongi snaps his head to watch your fleeing form disappear into a room down the hall. Taking a quick look back at the playmates, office staff, and then his pack, Yoongi huffs and quickly follows you, unable to fight his Alpha instincts.

The rest of the BTS packmates follow their bonded one closely behind as they feel his need to protect you from the others in the office. Namjoon catches Yoongi by the shoulder, stopping him from attempting to enter the room where you sought refuge. The rest of the pack forms a barricade around their Prime Alpha and packmate, who has entered Alpha space. They all are standing on guard, facing the rest of the people in the office, watching closely for any danger, and keeping the rude humans away. 

“Yoongi, you need to give her space. Remember, she is human and might get scared of your Alpha. What is happening? I need you to get enough control to explain what is happening?” Namjoon calmly speaks to his older packmate. Pushing out calming scents, trying to bring him out of his Alpha space with soothing strokes along his shoulder and back. “Can you come back and explain why you are protecting Miss Y/n?”

Barreling into the front of the group of observers with his tail bushed out and scent-smelling concerned, Derek comes up to the defensive line of BTS, “You have to let me get to her. You have to let me help calm down Y/n. Can’t you scent her distress? She is not doing okay by herself. You can even smell her over the scent-blockers!  I am the closest thing she has to a family. Please let me in to make sure she is okay. Please.”

 One of Yoongi’s black jaguar ears twitch back, hearing the urgency in Derek’s voice. He looks at Namjoon, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. After a few seconds, he turns to Derek with normal dark eyes, taking in his shifty behaviors and now partly distressed scent. 

Shaking his head slowly to Namjoon, Yoongi steps between his packmates and face-to-face Derek. “You are the closest thing to her family?”

“Yes, She and I were hired together when they decided to start this branch. We work together and spend time together at my den or her apartment. I do my best to protect her from situations like this because of her past. I normally try to keep her away from the playmates in general so things like this do not happen."

"She is only here today because we could not convince her otherwise since in the meeting yesterday with your Manager and what was said on the phone. She was bullied a lot before, and while it is not something that is okay, unfortunately, it still happens to this day. I really tried but I couldn’t do anything to keep her away. She had to be here even with little to no sleep and nightmares."

Bowing slightly but keeping an eye on the pack, Derek demandingly pleads, "Now, please, Mr. Min, please let me pass. Everyone can smell that something has happened. I think she is hurt in more ways than one.”  

The last comment got the attention of the whole pack on him, and everyone looked concerned. Several eyes flashed as their hybrid halves showed their displeasure with the news. Yoongi continued to fight his Alpha instincts with a deep growl and even breaths.

“How can you tell?” Namjoon asks from next to the door. He can smell something, but it tells him nothing since he has never smelt Y/n.

“That moldy smell. Like veggies gone bad?” The hybrids start sniffing, searching for the smell, and scrunching their noses once it hits. “That is why I know something is not right. Y/n, her scent turns like that when she is hurt. I am not sure if it is just emotional but it could be physical too. I can’t tell how bad it is because the scent-blocking measures she took for your arrival are still dulling it down.  Now again. Let me in to help my friend. I may be a Beta but she is like a pack member to me and I protect her like it.”

“Fine, but I am going in with you. I was the one who knocked into her and failed to keep her from falling. My Alpha instincts have gone haywire and I have the need to protect her,” his eyes glaring back at the playmates, “ from certain people here while ensuring she is okay and make amends for my mistake.” Yoongi states without room for argument, moving to the side, nodding to his packmates to make room for them. Once the two are through, the pack retakes their defensive stance, keeping everyone else out. 

Knocking on the door, Derek calls out softly as he opens it, entering and looking around the room to spot your shaking frame in the farthest and darkest corner. Namjoon shuts the door for privacy and protection while he stands guard just outside, with one ear listening to what is happening inside the room and one ear on the rest of the office. His mind racing from the powerful wave of rotten scent that has built up in the room.

The scent is much more robust in this room. The scent-blocking measures no longer mask your distress and pain. This causes Derek and Yoongi to whine at the smell and quickly move to your side. Derek pulled you into a tight embrace, pushing his scent out and over you and scenting the top of your head while murmuring soft, reassuring words. Yoongi comforts you with his own calming scents, pushing down the desire to pry you out of Derek’s hold to take you into his own. Much to their relief, your tears slow, and your breathing calms after what feels like hours.

“Derek, my nightmares, they came true. I ruined everything. I should have stayed away. I should have been looking where I was going. Reina was right. The one with the black tail, did I hurt him? He... He tried catching me. Me! I weigh a ton.” 

At that last comment, a deep growl resounds from behind you. It takes half a second to realize it is not from the hybrid holding you. Catching your breath and snapping your mouth shut, you cautiously peek through your hair to look behind you to see none other than Mr. Min Yoongi, who turns out to be the owner of said black tail, now snapping to and fro with irritation. 

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath, your mind racing to figure out a way to get out of this situation without causing any further damage and how best to word your resignation letter.

“Miss Y/n, let us address a few things. Firstly, you do NOT weigh a ton, nor will you ever refer to yourself in that manner again. Secondly, I am not injured, nor could you injure me, as I AM an Alpha in my own right and am stronger than I look, even if I am not the Prime Alpha of the Bangtan Pack.” Yoongi’s eyes flashed a different color.

You shrink down to try to make yourself smaller. Seeing your reaction and realizing that his Alphal is trying to be in control again, he takes another deep breath to calm himself, looking between you and Derek.

 “Lastly, would you be so kind as to allow my Alpha to inspect you for injuries? I came out of the observation room door unannounced and ran into you. I tried to prevent you from falling, but we are close in height, and I could not do much other than take what I hoped was the brunt of the fall.”

Turning more towards him but still staying in the safety of Derek’s hold, you look at him with confusion. “Your Alpha? Like your hybrid-side is not yourself?” Looking over your shoulder at Derek, you see him with a smirk and a chuckle on his lips.

“Missy here,” Derek looks at Yoongi, “has never met an Alpha male before. I am a beta, and her best friend is an omega.” Turning his attention back to you, “Unlike Evie and I, an Alpha has an inner animal that they can change into fully at will and it allows them to go into Alpha space to assist in protecting, hunting, and mating.”

You look at Yoongi with wide eyes, “You turn into a black cat?” 

“I am not a black cat,” he huffs in annoyance, eyes flashing a different color briefly. “I am a Black Jaguar hybrid, and I am trying my best to keep him at bay because he can sense that your emotions have calmed down, but you are still in pain.” 

His eyes roam over your figure, stopping when he notices you are cradling your right wrist. Standing up and motioning to a nearby chair, he asks,  “Please, can I inspect you for injuries? I can see you are being careful with your right hand.”

With a gentle push from behind you, you move to the chair Yoongi gestured to. Derek also stands up but keeps his distance, watching how the two of you interact. Yoongi kneels before you, “I have to let my Alpha see for himself. I promise he will not harm you. Mr. Gulley can attest to that at this point, my Alpha would have much rather hurt himself than you.” 

Glancing at Derek, he nods with a knowing smile while taking a seat a few tables over. Taking a moment to collect yourself, running your good hand through your hair and fixing your shirt, you look down at the hybrid. With a slight smirk, he looks at you with kind eyes,  “Miss Y/n, please allow me to check for injuries. You have no reason to be nervous. You look perfect as you are.” 

Blushing slightly at his words, you nod and tuck your hair behind your ear. You watch him closely as his dark brown eyes slowly change into a stunning golden-yellow color, with the pupil elongating into a pointed oval. His ears and tail moved this way and that, never quite settling in one position for very long. Your scent turns slightly back to sweet peas as the sight makes you smile softly. 

Cautiously, Yoongi kneels closer to you to become within reaching distance. Taking your left ankle gently in his hand, he rotates it, bends your leg at the knee, and sniffs at each joint. He repeats the process with the other side as well. Finding that nothing in your legs seems to be hurting, he looks at your face again with a short, pleased chirping sound. 

Scooting a little closer, he reaches out to your left hand, bends your elbow, feels along your fingers one by one, then rotates your wrist and again seems to sniff along the joints. 

You fidget in your seat, knowing what comes next will hurt, but you don't know how the hybrid in front of you will react. Noticing your movements and the slight change in your scent, Yoongi wraps his tail around your ankle to offer support. A slight sense of pride fills him when your scent calms down at his gesture of comfort, even if you do not realize it. 

Taking your right hand, he follows the same steps, pausing slightly before he rotates your wrist. You let out a yelp of pain and bite your bottom lip as you try to pull your hand out of his grip, which only causes him to hold it just a little bit tighter with one hand while the other quickly reaches to the nape of your neck to bring you into an awkward hug. Your head is now resting on his shoulder with your nose breathing against his neck, your good hand going to his side and gripping his shirt. 

Once the pain has dulled, you realize you smell the rain, not like fresh rain but like petrichor or the earth after a good downpour. It is comforting and relaxes you even more until you hear a soft chuffing noise and remember who you are smelling. 

Pulling away, you shyly look back at Yoongi, still observing you with golden-yellow eyes and holding your wrist firm but gently. “Umm... I think I just landed on it wrong. Just some ice and pain meds should be okay. I will be good as new tomorrow,” you say with a false smile, trying to play it off as no big deal.

However, Yoongi’s ears flatten, and his feline eyes narrow at you while nodding down to your wrist. Following his line of sight, you now see that your wrist is slightly swollen and is covered with a lovely purple color. “Okay, maybe I won’t be as good as new tomorrow.”

Derek stands up and approaches the two of you to see the damage done. Taking a sharp breath, he looked at Yoongi and froze, noting that the Alpha was sternly watching his every move. 

“Mr. Min, please remember I am like family, a pack, as you could say, with Y/n. I am also not a mate, nor am I looking to make her one. Will you allow me to get your Prime Alpha and Manager so we can decide how to move forward?”

Outside the breakroom, Mr. Johnson, the director of PMS USA, was informed there was an incident and is now standing with Manager Sejin outside the BTS barrier. He had ordered Reina and the other playmates to be escorted back into the conference room by some other staff. 

Mr. Johnson had hand-picked you to be the friendly first face of PMS because you light up any room you walk into and are always willing to put in the extra time to help make things perfect on or off the clock. 

“Hello, I am the director, I really should go in there and make sure my employee is okay, Manager Sejin,” Mr. Johnson states, glancing at the members of BTS as they continue to block the door and growl at anyone who walks near them. 

“Why are they not letting anyone near the door? I am sorry. I know about hybrids from the symposiums and conferences but rarely interact with many. I typically leave that up to my staff.” Glancing over at the hamster hybrid.

“Namjoon-ssi, do you want me to answer that, or would you like to?” Manager Sejin asks while watching Mr. Johnson. Namjoon redirects his attention from the breakroom to the seemingly incompetent human before him.

Taking a few slow steps forward, Hosek takes over guarding the break room door. Namjoon comes to stand with his pack, but nearer to Mr. Johnson and Manager Sejin, he says, “Mr. Johnson, we are a pack. More so, we are a pack of Alpha hybrids. Ranging from prey to predator types. We are a bonded pack on top of that, which means it’s all or none. We all are protective of something or someone if one of us feels the need. When one of us is hurt, we are all hurting with them.”

Looking at each of his packmates, Namjoon is filled with a sense of pride. Though they don’t know the extent of what has happened, they still support their mate to the best of their ability in a foreign country without question.

“Yoongi is feeling protective of Miss Y/n because of a few things. Y/n is injured because of an accident caused by Yoongi. She is not in a good emotional state because of your Playmates’ behavior due to the same accident.” He looks back at the Director, trying to maintain a more neutral expression to hide his disdain for the women now in some office somewhere.

“As an Alpha, our animals require us to hold ourselves to a higher standard than others. We like to try and ensure those around us are happy. With a very select few, we want to make sure they are also healthy and protected, among other things. In Yoongi’s Alpha space, he has failed to meet these standards when it comes to Y/n. It is now beyond his control, so to speak, to do anything other than fix his mistakes and ensure Y/n’s safety, recovery, and happiness. This means the Bangtan Pack is now responsible for the same.”

“Oh well. Um. I see. I can reassure you that Playmate Services has a good doctor who can tend to her if she needs one, and of course, she can have the rest of today and even tomorrow off. No need to make a fuss.”

A deep growl rips from behind Namjoon, causing everyone to look and see that Taehyung's eyes have gone crystal blue. His scent of burning ebony wood crashed over the pack. “You seem to be in over your head, Mr. Johnson. You have more than one hybrid working for you, yet you know nothing. Your company's incompetence is allowing bullying. From what one of your staff says, it has been happening for quite some time and yet you do nothing about it. Did you not hear our Prime Alpha tell you that she is ours now. We will take her to get treated by our medical professionals. We will take care of her to ensure she heals properly and regains a better state of mind. Not you.”

“Hyung, it’s okay. Calm down, please. We don’t need two of you in Alpha space right now. It will not help Miss Y/n or Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook steps up next to Taehyung, scenting his neck gently as his snickerdoodle scent pushes out, causing the blue to flicker back to his natural dark brown. 

With a last glare and a mumbled, “Pathetic, oblivious human.” He moves closer to Hosek and, in turn, you. Jungkook quickly follows in an attempt to keep the high-tempered White Southwest African Tiger calm and get closer to you as well. 

“You may have misunderstood me, gentlemen. I have tried to deal with the playmates and their disrespectful actions towards Y/n and some of the other staff. Sadly, Reina is a top pick and brings in a lot of money. Since we are the newest and smallest branch, the corporate office wants to refrain from taking any disciplinary actions for fear that she will quit. They think that any of the office staff are replaceable, whereas reliable Playmates are harder to find.”

“Mr. Johnson, while that may be the case prior to today, their bullying has gone too far. Manager Sejin,” Namjoon says, “I believe it would be wise if the director took care of the bullying by the playmates and joined them for the time being. We need a few moments without interruptions to assess what is happening and how the Pack will move forward with this office, if at all.” 

Dismissing the director to be dealt with by Manager Sejin, Namjoon walks back to the door, which is now being guarded by Hosek, Taehyung, and Jungkook. The scent of snickerdoodle, ebony wood, and lilac mix together with the pack scent of vanilla underneath.

“... can’t tell?”

“Can’t tell what?” Namjoon asks the small group.

“Hobi can’t tell,” replies Jungkook while Taehyung nods in agreement. 

“The boys say that their Alphas are reacting to Y/n but I can’t tell if mine does or not. You spoke to her, stood right in front of her. Namjoon, can you tell?”

“Oh? Hmm, I guess I haven’t really paid attention. After what happened with… you know who… I guess I have been pushing my Alpha to the back as much as I could. I have been focusing on taking care of you guys, my mates, first and I couldn’t do that with him pacing in my head so much. She really tore Yoongi, Join, and Hobi apart inside with what she said. ” 

Namjoon started thinking back to hearing your voice, full of determination and strength, over the phone yesterday. Your care, intention, and respect for the pack that you have shown today. It would be simple to say that his Alpha was comfortable around you, and from how the pack’s scents have been, he wasn’t the only one who was.

“My Alpha is comfortable with y/n, but I wouldn’t say that he is reacting in any particular way.”

A soft whine leaves Jungkook. “Why do the older mates always walk with blinders on? Huh! You need to really let your Alpha look at her. My Alpha hasn’t wanted to look away from her since we walked into the office.”

“Joon, I am with Kookie on this one. While I wasn’t drawn in right away, I trust Yoongi's Alpha not to react this way with just anyone. So when he ran after her, I was the closest one to the door and before the pack’s scent took over, I could smell vanilla with something rotten. At first, I thought it was a candle or something, but I looked around. There are no candles.”

Taehyung’s comment on smelling vanilla caught the attention of Jimin and Seokjin. Turning to join the conversation while still trying to maintain the barrier, Jimin speaks up.

“So it wasn’t just me. When Yoongi and that man went in, I smelled vanilla with almost a compost-like smell. After that, my Alpha wanted nothing but to keep everyone, human or hybrid, away from this door. He is really fighting to be at the front.”

“I figured that our muscle bunny was just leaning into his instincts of being a bunny when he was speaking about Y/n in the conference room. Yet it didn’t explain to me why my Alpha felt awkward at her bowing to me when I spoke to her before going into the room.” Seokjin commented with a stern but thoughtful look. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hosek moves away from the door slightly, his expression confused and frustrated. “Are you telling me that you have all had some kind of reaction from your Alphas for the human lady behind the door? Some of you smelled vanilla, too?”

They all look at Hosek and then at Namjoon, waiting for them to come to the same conclusion. After a few tense moments had passed, it was like a lightbulb went off over Hosek’s head as his lilac scent burst with a bit more hints of rose and vanilla. Everyone now focuses on Namjoon.

Namjoon’s head is racing over every moment that has happened since walking in the door. As Prime Alpha, his responsibilities for the pack are more significant than others, and with what the boys are hinting at, the next few moments will change so much. 

“Her reactions were top-notch with our pack, and her showing an exceeding amount of respect to the packmates could be just her professionalism.” More whines and a few soft growls are heard. Looking up, Namjoon makes eye contact with each of his mates standing before him. 

“However, only the vanilla scent can mean one thing which won’t be easy for the human woman.” Taking a deep breath, the pack turned their attention to the door.

“We have an American Mate.”

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Taglist - Open

@braveangel777 @bethanysnow @smileykiddie08 @kayways @danielle143 @nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop

#ldysmfrst fic #AmericanMate #bts #bts x reader #au #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrid bts #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #plus sized reader #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #min yoongi #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #bangtan #fluff #bts fluff #kpop smut #kpop fan fiction #angst with a happy ending

[xomakara]

Physical Therapy

SUMMARY |  Haechan sprained his ankle and is staying at the hospital. Being very horny and needy, he asks his pretty nurse for special treatment… PAIRINGS | Haechan/Fem!Reader GENRE |  smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, public sex, nurse/patient RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  2,366 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Fuck, why do I have so many one-shots saved in my computer? Anywho, I hope you enjoy :)

Part 2 here

“Haechan, you are an idiot.”

“…Shut up.”

“I can’t believe you sprained it.”

“…I said shut up.”

“You are such an attention whore. Now you have to stay in the hospital. How does it feel?”

“Guys! Will you shut up! Geez, it’s not my fault!” Haechan yelled at his friends. Leave it to Haechan to sprain his ankle before tonight’s party.

“Actually it is. You’re the one who wanted to impress that pretty girl.” Renjun said, raising both his brows at him. All because he wanted to show off his dance moves. Which really didn't make sense, since Haechan was a great dancer.

"I thought you were trying to impress that girl?" Chenle asked Renjun as he passed some soup to Haechan. “Weren’t you trying to serenade her in Chinese?”

"What are you talking about?" Renjun rolled his eyes, the others laughing. “I did no such thing.”

"How in the world could you sprain your ankle?!" Mark questioned, fussing over the younger man. "Dude."

"Should I keep you company?" Jisung asked.

“Good news is that my cousin is coming over to visit later! I'll bring you some of her homemade food later, since I know you all love her cooking. Have fun at the hospital.” Jaemin said happily, waving at Haechan before walking with the rest of his friends out of the hospital room.

Haechan gave them a surprise look. “Wait, you guys are going to leave me?!”

“….yes?” Jeno said, not sure if that question was a trick or not.

"We'll visit you tommorow, Haechan." Renjun nodded, reassuring him.

Haechan grumbled and glared at them. He crossed his arms. “Fine, leave me. Some friends you guys are. Can't believe you would leave.”

"Ahw, you'll be fine Haechan." Mark chuckled, patting him on the head. “Some of the nurses here are really pretty, you know?”

“We’ll tell them to take good care of you!” Jeno called out.

"Yeah, you'll be fine!" Jisung exclaimed.

"Recover fast! Haechannie fighting!" Jaemin pumped his fist in a victory pose.

Chenle waved and gave him a small smile. “Bye Haechan! Have fun at the hospital!”

"Guyssss!" Haechan whined, hoping that one of his friends would at least stay with him.

Haechan sighed once his friends left. Now who was going to give him the attention he needed? It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to show off his nice, smooth moves to that pretty girl. He wanted to get a chance to maybe…score something tonight.

Damn it.

There goes his chance of fucking a pretty girl.

He started to watch some TV. The hospital wasn’t that bad since he had a room to himself. The door opened again, and a very pretty woman entered his room. She was wearing a nurse outfit, showing off her generous cleavage. 

She gave him a cute smile.

“Hi there, I'm Na Y/N. I’ll be your nurse for tonight. If you need anything, just press the button.” You said, pointing at the button that was on the dresser. 

Haechan looked at you up and down before giving you a smirk. 

Oh yeah, he definitely loved the hospital now.

“Y/N, huh? Wait… Are you Na Jaemin’s cousin?” He asked, his eyes wide. “You’re the cousin that cooks all those delicious food for Jaemin, huh?”

“Oh, you know Jaemin?” You asked him.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Haechan nodded. “I’m Haechan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! The one with the sweet yet unique voice whenever he sings? It’s nice to finally put a face to a name.” You smiled at him. “Was Jaemin here to see you earlier? I just started my shift but a few of the other nurses said they saw a group of very good looking men leave your room.”

“Yep, they left not too long ago.” Haechan replied. “I didn’t know you were a nurse.”

“I normally keep my job a secret.” You chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They don’t believe I’m a nurse because of my looks.”

Which was often true. People always thought you’de be too dumb to be a nurse. That your face and body could pass more for a model.

You didn’t know how or why, but after fighting with the other nurses, you won. The prize was to take care of the handsome young man in Room 127.

“Really now? That must be tough.” Haechan raised his eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be in good hands with you.”

“I’ll get you all taken care of.” You smiled as you turned around, your back facing him. “If you need anything Haechan-ssi, just let me know.”

Haechan watched your ass until it disappeared out the door. Yeah, he was going to have fun.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Minhee, your fellow nurse, friend and roommate asked, grabbing an apple from her plate before taking a big bite of it. It was lunchtime, and you were sitting on the table, your face lying on top of it.

“It’s Haechan! He’s such an... ugh! He won’t stop calling me. He’s getting on my nerves.” You were tired and hungry. 

It has been four hours since Haechan came, and you were tired as hell because of him. He made ridiculous requests. 'Oh nurse, can you help me change the channel? Oh nurse, where is the bathroom? Blah blah blah.' 

You were sick of it.

Minhee gave you a sympathetic look. 

Poor you. 

But she didn’t want to take care of Haechan. Plus you did win that bet. You said were going to cockblock her if she ever brought a man home. 

Hell no. 

Minhee was going to get some dick tonight after her shift. “Why don’t you text Jaemin and ask him what will keep Haechan quiet. He should know since they’re friends.”

You groaned, bringing your phone out of your pocket. “I know but still, he needs to stop pressing that damn button.”

“Maybe he wants and loves your attention. He must really like you.” Minhee said, giving you a teasing smile. "You are pretty."

You stuck your tongue out. “Being pretty doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Why don’t you just fuck him or something?” Minhee suggested.

You groaned again, showing her the text you got from your cousin.

Jaemin: Why don’t you fuck him? He’s been dying to get laid lately.

Minhee laughed. “See? No wonder your cousin and I get along so well. Great minds think alike.”

“Ugh…” You let out, your phone vibrated signaling that Haechan was calling you.

“Oh Y/N,” Haechan sang before pressing the button for the 100th time. “I need your assistance again.”

You groaned and entered his room again, not before shutting the door. You didn’t want Seulyong, the head nurse, to hear you screaming at a patient, especially if it’s Haechan. “What now?”

He gave an amused look. “Now what kind of attitude is that? Aren’t nurses supposed to be friendly with their patients?”

“Not if they're being an ass about it.” You muttered under your breath. “Now what do you want Haechan?”

Haechan moved his shoulders. “My shoulders are stiff. Can you massage them for me?”

If you could, you would curse and walk away from him. But since Haechan knew your cousin, you didn’t want Jaemin to complain that you didn’t take care of his friend. You went over to his bed. “Scoot back.”

He did what he was told, smirking at you as you sat on the bed. After a few minutes, Haechan moaned in satisfaction. You were really good with your hands. He felt his muscles being relaxed as you continued to massage his shoulders.

“Better?” You wanted to get over this. As soon as he nodded, you immediately got off the bed.

Before you could leave the room, he grabbed your wrist. “Yes, better. Can you do me another favor?”

You didn’t even reply. You waited for his request while yelling profanities inside your head. 

Damn him.

“I thought I felt a lump on my stomach. I don’t know what that means, but can you check for me?” He sweetly asked. 

Curse him for being so damn hot. 

When the hell did Jaemin hang out with other good looking guys?

You could perfectly hear the other nurses dying and telling you to do it. You waited until Haechan laid down on the bed, lifting up his hospital gown, revealing his perfect, solid abs and boxers to you.

Slowly, you touched his abs as Haechan shivered from your touch. You had to admit, his abs felt so fucking good with your touch. But you didn’t feel a lump at all. “I don’t feel a lump.”

Haechan opened his eyes. He was enjoying this. “Go higher, it’s somewhere around there.”

You went higher, revealing his solid chest. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

“Huh, I must have been imagining things.” He said, giving you an innocent look. 

You glared at him. 

Ugh, sneaky bastard.

“I'll go now.” All you wanted to do was go home and sleep this off. This has been such a tiring experience for you. Before you could leave again, he grabbed your wrist again.

“Wait, stay.”

Fuck, no you weren't going to stay. 

Sure, he was hot but you were so tired.

“Why? My shift is over. I gave you all the attention you need. It’s time for me to go home.”

Haechan frowned a little. The fun hasn’t even started yet. “You can’t leave yet. I need more attention, especially from a sexy, little nurse.”

Before you could protest, Haechan pulled your body on his bed. You couldn’t even react because he captured your lips with his, dominating it. 

It took you a few seconds to realize that you were actually kissing a patient. And your cousin’s friend. 

Fuck it. 

You knew what to do with this situation, like Minhee and Jaemin told you to. You kissed him back, not giving a rat’s ass that you were about to fuck a patient.

Haechan smirked. 

“I see you want my attention.” He said before entering his tongue inside of your mouth.

You just moaned for the cocky bastard. It was better to enjoy the moment than argue with him. Haechan’s lips were incredibly soft, almost pillowy. He deepened the kiss, the hand at the back of your neck bringing you closer. He felt your hand curve around his neck. He moved closer, lured by your response and a small, almost helpless sound you made as you opened your lips. 

Haechan was rubbing all over your body, and playing with your short skirt.

“You are such a bad nurse.” He growled before his right hand went inside your skirt, lightly massaging your clit with his thumb that was being protected by your very thin underwear. “Going around fucking all your patients, huh?”

“N-no…”

You arched your back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Dear god. Haechan looked at your exposed neck. Perfect. Leaning you closer, he began attacking your small neck, biting and sucking as hard as he could, making you gasp and clutched his neck even more.

“Haechan,” you moaned in front of his ear, turning him on even more. You could feel his hard member that was covered by his gown and boxers. You began grinding his body with yours, making him moan and wince.

Right now, he wanted to pounce and fuck your brains out right then and there. Instead, he pushed your panties to the side, and added not one, but two fingers inside your now wet pussy, his thumb continuing to massage your clit. “Does that feel good?”

“Oh god, yes…”

He thrusted hard and fast, hitting your g-spot again and again, making you melt and feel good. He moved his fingers to the side, up and down, forcing you to shudder. Haechan bit your bottom lip as he continued to stroke you with his pleasurable fingers.

After a few more strokes, Haechan finally took his fingers out, licking them in front of you. “You are so ready right now, noona.”

"What?" You pouted, slapping his chest in embarrassment. "Who's your noona?!"

Since you were straddling him, Haechan had expertly taken off your skirt and panties. 

How the hell did that happen?

“You are. Noona, can you help a patient out? I’m a very horny person.”

You couldn’t reply because he already thrust up inside of you, slowly. You knew he was teasing you, waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I'll help you out, Haechan-ah!” Haechan slowly hit your g-spot.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” He said, thrusting a little bit faster. “Damn, your pussy is sucking my cock.” 

He went inside of you again, making you arch, you moaning in pleasure.

“Yes! I'll help you!” You yelled. 

You prayed the other nurses didn’t hear the filth that was going on.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Haechan replied by thrusting inside of you faster now. Each thrust was filling you up with pleasure. Instead of laying down, he sat up in bed, making him go deeper inside your wet pussy. He continued to pound inside of you, making you whimper every time he hit the right spot.

You both came not once, nor twice, but three times. On the fourth fuck, Haechan could feel your walls clenching again.

“Haechan!” You screamed, giving him the satisfaction that he needed as you came for the fourth time. Haechan came as well, arms tightening around you as you continued to spasm in pleasure.

“Another round?” He asked, catching his breath as he gave you a cocky grin.

You lightly pushed off of him and got up. You wanted to, but there was no way you were going to do this for the fifth time. He was a very needy and horny guy. “No, now go to bed or something.”

You put your panties back on. You were about to put on your white skirt until Haechan grabbed it. He leaned towards you. “Tomorrow I need to be satisfied. Will you be here tomorrow to help me, noona?”

You bit your lip, blushing from his comment. 

Why did he have to fuck so damn good?! “Of course, I’ll be here Haechan.”

Satisfied, Haechan gave you back your skirt. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. After all, you were his nurse.

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct dream #nct haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan #haechan smut #haechan x reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 8

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!Reader

A/N: Writing Nesta post-acosf is so confusing so I apologise if she’s a little ooc!

Word Count: 5,552

-Part 7- -🌌🌠- -Part 9-

It’s been while since you last ate with all of them.

Even so, the atmosphere is familiar. Jovial. Pleasant enough you can allow yourself to slip into spectation, vanishing in your mind’s eyes, becoming an observer without presence. Shadows flicker at the corner of your vision, and you’re brought back down to reality.

The restaurant lights are warm and yellowy, a magic barrier constructed at the room’s border to keep the temperature pleasantly mild, inky darkness swirling just beyond the threshold. Candles flicker, almost in time with his shadows. It’s hard to tell when natural darkness ends and his begins. But he doesn’t really like it when people stare at them, so you avert your eyes. Scratch the backs of your hands beneath the table, softened a little by cream.

By what you can only assume was a stroke of bad luck—or good, depending how you want to feel for the rest of the night—everyone had already settled into the dinner by the time you arrived, leaving a single seat open. Yes, you could’ve pulled over a chair, or requested one to be magically summoned, but that would be drawing attention to the issue, which would undoubtedly make the ineffable off-ness of your relationship with him that much more blatant.

So there he is, a steady presence to your left, situated at one end of the table. Elain to your right. How unfortunate. Or lucky, depending on the angle.

Take a sip of your water, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Lean slightly over to your sister. “Have I missed anything?” Cocoa flick to you, warm and soft in the mellow light, a little tired. Half-circles beneath her eyes. “Nothing much. I was planning on visiting Lucien again—hopefully within the week.” She answers mildly, a faint smile in her eyes. “There’s also a possibility of Nesta going over to have a look at the libraries in the Day Court.”

“Woah,” you mumble. “Looking for anything in particular, or simply for recreation?”

Elain shrugs, eyes flicking across the table. “Ask her,” she says simply.

Spine stiffens.

With fae hearing, plus the close proximity, there’s a high chance everyone heard that exchange. Refusing to do so will only draw more attention. You shoot Elain a reproachful look for putting you in this situation but she smiles encouragingly.

You find the elegant shape of your eldest sister a little further down the table—across and two over. Opposite Cassian who is beside Elain. Sharp eyes flit to your own a second after you’ve sought her out—she definitely heard. At least you didn’t vocalise any dismay over the forced interaction.

“Day Court?” You inquire, raising your brows in interest. She nods, lips parting in a smile, “quite the trip, isn’t it.” You laugh—trying to remember where the Day Court is in conjunction with Night. Come up short. “Already read through all the books here?” You reply, trying to keep the conversation fluid. Gaze absently flicks over the various plates and trays of food, picking out the things you’d like to try. A waft of something delicious floats down the table—a covered bowl sits between Rhys and Feyre. Soup, most likely. It has your mouth watering from the scent alone. Would be divine with some buttered bread.

“Nowhere near,” she responds, still smiling. “But there’s a particular author we’re after, and I’d like to see if I can find more of his books in those libraries.” You hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. “Different from The Runaway?” She blinks, then nods, “you’ve read it already?”

“Yeah. Finished it last week,” you answer, peering at the dishes closer to you, wonder what you can pick. It’s mostly meat. Some roast potatoes, poultry next along covered in an orange-red sauce that smells spicy.

“What did you think?” She asks, carefully ladling gravy to the edge of her own plate. It’s your turn to blink, recalling the story to the forefront of your mind. Exhale heavily, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t know, really,” you admit honestly, “there was a lot in it, I suppose. I’m still digesting it, in a way. Do you know what I mean?” She nods, eyes softening at the edges—you’ve said the right thing. “I think there’s a lot in it; a lot happened to him, and I think it did a good job on highlighting how perspective can be manipulated. I also like how the creature was only alluded to in earlier chapters while the first part of the plot was unfolding so you end up overlooking it?”

She gracefully cuts through a potato, dipping it in the gravy before neatly depositing it in her mouth. Elegant and refined. “Yes, I thought that was an interesting way of telling his story. The complications between Yvette and Hans helped with the initial distraction, I think.” Lips twists into a slight frown. “The section—I think around chapter seventeen? Eighteen…?” You pause, picturing how far through the book it was, then shake your head. “Around there, anyway. The section about those lights in the sky?— I had to put the book down for a bit.” You admit, smiling as you recall the passage.

Nesta nods her head. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I think I actually had to stand up and get myself another cup of tea to calm down when he connected the dots.” A grin parts your lips wider, skin warming at the memory. “Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “a different author.”

She nods in confirmation, “a different author.”

“Romance?” You ask, remembering her appreciation for the genre.

Something passes through the room, hairs slowly raising at the back of your neck. Eyes slide to Elain, but she’s conversing with Cassian, attention shifted away from you. Gaze flicks back to Nesta who has a tight smile on her lips—it’s still odd to see her smiling so openly and frequently.

“No, actually,” she begins slowly, cutlery lowering to her plate. Her fingers remain pressed tight to the metal. “It’s a spell-book,” she says, silvery-blue eyes gleaming like moonlight despite the warm glow about the private space. Brow furrows a little as you peer at her across the table, “a spell-book?” You ask. “What do you need a spell-book for?” Her spine straightens, attention moving to her meal as she slices into some meat, mouth opening to continue.

“The baby warrior’s been having doubts about his wingspan, I’ll bet,” Amren croons from across the table, snatching your attention. Your brow dips further, eyes now shifting to find Cassian further down the table—the other side of Elain. He seems fine, laughing brightly. “Is there a problem with them?” You ask Nesta, remembering how torn up they’d been after the mess with Hybern and the cauldron.

She shakes her head, lips lifting into a grin as she meets Amren’s steel-coloured eyes. “She’s just jealous,” Nesta returns, “Varian not treating you well?” Sharp eyes flash with challenge. “Maybe they should compare notes. I’m sure your mate could learn a thing or two,” she taunts, effectively ending your conversation with Nesta. A part of you wants to learn more—your natural inclination—but Amren’s whisked her away into conversation, Mor stuck between them.

Attention again flits to Elain, but she’s still contained in conversation with Cassian, leaving only the keen pair of eyes on your left to entertain yourself with. Raise the glass to your lips, forcing down a mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the light pulsing in the forefront of your head. Skin prickles beneath his attention, fingers shifting over your cutlery as you move to take food to your plate.

It seems rude to interrupt Elain’s conversation—you always go to her first. She speaks to people other than you, and probably enjoys doing so. You should leave her to enjoy the night. Take another drink of the clear liquid, shadows flickering in your peripherals as you set your sights on Nesta. Wait for an opening.

“What do you want the spell-book for?” You ask, feigning ignorance to their conversation. As if the question just appeared on your tongue, falling out before you could stop it. Two sets of sharp eyes cut to you, a single set of caramel flicking to steel warily. “A containment spell,” Nesta answers, slicing up some vegetables on her plate. “To bind.”

Amren’s lip curls into a distinctly predatory grin, almost warning. “Needing to spice things up so early in your relationship?” She croons. “I would have given it at least another few months before you two were in need of a bonding activity.” A fourth pair of eyes joins the discussion though he’s still wrapped in his own exchange. The hazel to your left has probably been observing for some time, too.

Nesta offers the petite female a tight smile, equally warning. Mor claps her hands, hastily breaking up the exchange. “Will you pass that down? Cass, be a dear and— no, next to it— the other side—yes! Thank you!” You watch slightly enviously as she ladles soup into a bowl, taking a slice of fluffy bread and slathering butter over its surface. Trace the soup as it’s returned to its place at the far end of the table, between Rhys and Feyre, one seat down from Nesta and Cassian.

And just like that, dialogue ebbs and flows around, leaving you with no way in. You’re quite glad for the reprieve. These dinners generally leave you in need of a weeks sleep to recover, by which point the next one is already scheduled. Exhausting. You don’t know how they manage it. Attention is still weighing on you as you raise your cutlery, poised to begin slicing into the meat upon your plate.

Elain is still preoccupied—to your steadily growing dismay. Nesta and Amren are locked in a verbal sparring match, while Mor chimes in here and there, occasionally attempting to rope Cassian in, too. Just to stir things up. Shadows flicker in the background.

His attention is becoming difficult to ignore. Clear your throat softly, focusing on cutting through the meat, slicing it into bitesized chunks. “Is something the matter, Azriel?” Shift the cutlery in your hands, easing up the pressure on your knuckles from the effort of cutting. He watches silently, his own plate clean and empty.

“Not at all,” he replies quietly, voice unliltling and void of inflection. Your brow twitches toward the centre, neatly spearing a chunk of flesh. Swallow in preparation. “Nothing?” You question, equally softly, biting down on the dead animal. It comes apart easily on your tongue, softened in a skillet somewhere, bathed in oils and rosemary, sprinkled with salts and spices. Force yourself to chew and swallow. “Nothing,” he repeats back, hazel eyes resting on your jaw, flicking to meet your gaze.

Finish your mouthful, move to the next sliver. Spike it on your fork. Half raise it from the plate then stop, lowering it quietly. “What are you watching?” You ask, eyes flicking down to your plate, skipping away from his. “Many things,” he answers vaguely. Shadows flicker at his back, wreathing his wings, tucking behind them. “I’d rather not be part of those things,” you murmur, finally biting down on the tender flesh. Chew enough so it’s digestible, then swallow. Think about nice things, like the books at the house, golden eyes, and dried flowers. “You’re in public,” he replies, tone still without inflection. “That’s an impossible request.”

Three pieces left, and it’ll be done.

“You can look elsewhere instead of staring a hole in my head,” you murmur. “Maybe,” you add hastily, softening the sharp suggestion. These situations always put you a little on edge. So many people.

He’s quiet for a bit, but his attention doesn’t shift, despite his gaze moving to be further down the table. You manage another chunk of meat, teeth dully masticating as you grind the flesh down, focusing on the herbs and spices in place of the ashen, earthy flavour of the animal carcass.

Azriel’s attention weighs into you, skin prickling, hairs raising at the back of your neck as you try to ignore it. It’s probably being exacerbated by your imagination. Raise the fifth and final piece to your mouth, thinking about rotating planets and cocoa, of whiskey and caramel as your teeth bite and chew absently. He’s still observing; you shift in your chair, swallowing the mouthful. Reach for your glass, gulp down the clear liquid.

Nearly choke, the alcohol burning your throat. Nose scrunches before you can help it, covering your mouth with the napkin while you cough as quietly as possible. Elain pats you on the back making you smile as you overcome the initial shock. “Something go down the wrong way?” She asks, lips curving in a grin she’s clearly attempting to suppress in favour of a more sympathetic expression. Puts those attempts to rest when you laugh quietly, nodding to the liquid. “Too eager,” you whisper, refolding the napkin. Elain covers her own mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled mirth; you shoot her a playful glare.

Mor, sitting opposite Elain; beside Nesta, breaks from her conversation with the two, attention flitting to you, as if she had been lying in wait for her chance. “So!” She says, golden hair shining resplendent beneath the glow, like a flame encased in honey. “When shall we go shopping?” Her hands clap together, red lips parting in a friendly smile.

Oh.

You’d blessedly forgotten that promise of hers.

Swallow uneasily. “It’s fine… The polish and lip tint were lovely,” you smile, hoping she’ll leave it be. “Nonsense,” she chirps, collecting a few more roast potatoes onto her plate, Amren gingerly taking a few after her, nose almost wrinkling with suspicion. “You love books, and I apparently need a reason to spend time with you, so a shopping trip is perfect!” You offer her what you hope is a steady smile, one that disguises the strain you’re feeling, “I don’t want to be a bother—it’s fine, really. There are plenty of books in the library, anyway, and I’ve barely made it through the first two levels.”

Brows shoot up to her hairline. “Every book? You’ve been reading all of them?” You blink at her surprise, then hesitantly dip your head. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach, hands gripping one another as tension slices through your shoulders. “Are they— Am I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Read away!” She laughs, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “I hadn’t expected your interests to be so different, is all,” she smiles. “I tried to read a couple from the library when I was younger and nearly bored myself to tears.” You smile faintly, relaxing back into your chair. “I guess they’re not for everyone,” you reply, posture softening against the back of your seat.

Mor laughs, the sound like wind chimes caught on a stray breeze, golden hair glinting in the warm light. You have to look away. It feels wrong to even look at her—to try and place her individual beauties. Peer down at your empty plate, hunger gnawing at your stomach lining. You should have remembered to eat before coming along.

“So what about tomorrow?” She asks, dipping buttered bread into her bowl. Raise your head to look at her, confusion lining your brows. She smiles easily, “for a shopping trip, of course.”

“Not every creature enjoys being put through your endless chatter, Mor,” Amren snipes from her side. The blonde female pouts, throwing a glare to the petite Fae on her right.

Warm toffee eyes flick to cocoa, brightening with an idea, “Elain could come along too!” Spine goes rigid, every ounce of willpower straining to keep from glancing to your left, wondering what he’s thinking. Swallow heavily, stiffening as your older sister is brought into the discussion. Mor smiles eagerly, “what do you say, Elain? Fancy a shopping trip tomorrow?”

Nails slice into your palms, piercing small crescent shapes into your skin—you’ve been trying not to bite them. Press further back into your seat, muscles coiling with anxiety. Not both of them.

You can practically feel the moment steely silver eyes pick up on your reluctance, like she has a sixth sense for picking at scabs. But Elain sighs apologetically, “that would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time.” Relief washes over your skin, bathed in a cool breeze. “I told you so,” Amren snickers to the blonde female.

Mor’s brows dip together, “oh, piss off Amren. I know you like picking out clothes to wear for Varian with me.” The cunning female raises her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies smoothly, Mor’s lips twitching at the obvious denial.

Turn to Elain, taking in the natural glow of her features. “Have plans?” You ask quietly, hand absently resting over your stomach. Involuntarily glance at the soup further up the table, tongue flicking out over your lips. She shakes her head, softly curled silky hair cascading over her slim shoulders. In your peripherals, you can make out how shadows stretch across the table, reaching. “I’ve been dreadfully tired lately,” she admits, equally hushed.

Brow furrows in concern, about to ask further, but Mor’s on you again. “Guess it’ll just be us tomorrow!” She smiles genuinely, excited for the plans. When you glance sidelong at your sister, she’s already settled back into conversation with Cassian, your youngest sister and her mate joining in. You nod in surrender, accepting it’s something that has to happen. It would be overtly rude to decline her invitation now.

“Great! We can squeeze in a lunch, too,” she grins, washing down the soup with a glassful of wine. “Maybe you can direct me to some of the more interesting library books,” she suggests, eyes sparking with excitement. You nod again, fatigue beginning to weigh on your shoulders. It’s nice watching them, but you frequently forget how draining it is to be involved.

Lean back into your chair, pulling your stomach in as you feel pressure grow—you’d die of embarrassment if it started growling. Hastily drink some more in attempts to fill it up. Hungrily eye the plates of food. Maybe the poultry wouldn’t be too bad with the sauce—chicken was hard to come by all those years ago.

A delicious scent catches your attention, shadows skittering away as he silently ladles soup into his bowl. Nobody asks about the shuffling round of plates. Stomach rumbles and you flush, hands clamping over your stomach as humiliation burns along your skin. Mouth almost watering, but you force yourself to wait; appear only mildly interested in the food. An appropriate amount of attention for a dinner.

His hand knocks into the bowl, pushing it aside to make room for another dish, so it’s to his right. Almost subtle enough to appear accidental.

Still, you finally help yourself to the soup, equal parts affection and shame weighing in your gut.

————

The night air is crisp and cool, soothing the warmth of your skin as you follow quietly a way behind the group.

Feyre and Rhys have already made their way home, not liking to spend too long away from Nyx, despite knowing he’s well cared for. There seems to be discussion ahead of taking things further for the night, perhaps more drinking.

After having left the restaurant, Nesta had sought you out. You’d been surprised to say the least—a little on edge—but it had been nothing to worry about. She’d merely extended an invitation for you to join her on their trip to the Day Court. Perhaps to seek out some books you’d been interested in, she’d suggested.

You’d politely declined.

Now you turn to Elain, the darkness bringing out the slight dip below her eyes. “You okay?” You ask, the chatter of the streets soothing background noise. Fading to a constant hum in the back of your mind, falling into the empty recesses. She nods, sighing heavily. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” she replies quietly. “And, I’ve…” shakes her head. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” she sighs again. “You always were more prone to sickness than the rest of us,” you reply, nudging her shoulder playfully.

She smiles gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Maybe I’ll come and cough on you so you get ill for once,” she grins.

Nose wrinkles as you smile, “gross.” She laughs at that, then the two of you fall quiet, walking together in companionable silence. Trudging your way back to the River House, keeping fairly close to the main group who are still deciding whether or not to turn in for the evening.

You know you’ll be heading back to the House of Wind for the night.

Curious to see if a response has been written.

————

The House is quiet. Halls empty and silent as you pad down the corridor to your room.

Maybe you should check with Nesta whether she wants you to move out of here—switch to the River House. Anxiety slices at your gut, fatigue weighing your eyelids at the thought. You’re sure she’ll say something if she wants you out. You aren’t keen to initiate conversation with her unless necessary.

When you enter your room, candles are already lit, courtesy of the House. A few clothes lay on the floor, but it’s mostly clear. Almost tidy.

Parchment rests across your desk, and you eagerly hurry over.

Nothing has been added.

Excitement dies away, scratching at the backs of your hands absently.

Wearily take a seat, playing with the pen between your fingers, chewing on your lower lip. Debating the merits of bothering him when he’s taken no interest in your last comment.

Toss the thoughts out your window, throwing all caution to the wind.

Long day?

Bite down on your tongue, pulling at the top most layer of skin until you bleed. Wait for the paper to disappear. Seconds tick by, counting as they drain away. Steadily turning into minutes. Lean your cheek on the table, slumping forward as boredom creeps in, the pendant clunking as it hits the wooden surface of the table.

Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?

You aren’t particularly sure where the question comes from. Maybe the still-boxed jigsaw puzzle sitting atop a dusty stack of books has something to do with it.

Paper vanishes, and you perk up, straightening in your chair, fingers flexing. Excitement stirring in your chest. Absently reach for a pot of cream, unscrewing the lid as you trace the desiccated skin of your knuckles. Slowly soothe it in, rub the dips between your fingers, pretending your hands are someone else’s.

Parchment reappears, having you eagerly lean forward.

No.

You scowl at the curt response, twiddling the pen in your hands.

Sour and miserable indeed. Were my earlier questions not interesting enough to deign a response?

Letter vanishes, your feet tapping against the floor, fidgeting with the writing instrument. Turn to the anthology as you usually end up doing while waiting for his reply. Flip to the page you’d bookmarked, removing the silver embossed fabric. Lips quirk when you spot the title: Explosions: Rapid Division.

Shift the book so it’s in the centre of your desk, reading the introductory passage, instinctively scanning the diagrams with intrigue. Paper reappears atop the pages.

You forget I am a high-ranking individual with a multitude of tasks to attend to. I don’t get to spend my days simply lying around to pester the only person who’ll give me a scrap of attention.

Cheeks heat with embarrassment, yet you find yourself smiling at the familiar sharpness of his tongue. Ease out a deep breath, relaxing into your chair, flicking the pen in your dry fingers before lowering it to the parchment.

I think if you truly felt pestered, you wouldn’t be responding at all. Feeling lonely over there, Eris?

The paper vanishes, and you treat yourself to an image of his brows narrowing, lip curling as ire blazes in caramel eyes. Mouth widens into a smile as your feet tip-tap on the floor-boards, absently dipping your finger tips into the pot of cream again, putting more over the roughness of your skin as you wait patiently.

Parchment reappears, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

And what about yourself? The hell-cat is leaving for quite a while, isn’t she?

Lips part on a sharp exhale, spine straightening as your eyes flick about the room anxiously. How does he know that? Should you tell someone? Brow narrows in concentration, mind scrambling to think up a response that won’t give anything away, without sounding so vague he knows you’re avoiding the question. Swallow heavily, rubbing in the last of the cream, reaching for your pen. Lower it to the desk, and falter. What do you say? Is feigning ignorance too obvious?

The letter vanishes before you’ve had a chance to even put a speck of ink upon it, and it dawns on you that the question was timed. Picture the way his lips part is a slow smile as he sees the blank paper.

Manipulative bastard.

I suppose she’ll be taking the brute with her, too?

Fingers tighten on the pen, teeth grinding. Is this why he warned you about Eris? Because of how quickly he can extract information through carefully assembling pieces? Jaw tenses, but more silence will be confirmation.

How do you know any of that?

Chew on your lower lip as you await his reply, heart pounding. Azriel would be furious. Swallow down the nausea, teeth sliding beneath your nails—toeing the line of biting down, but restraining yourself.

Really, how do you think Court politics works? Of course we keep tabs on one another. I’m sure your shadowsinger has plenty of spies littered throughout Prythian. Possibly further, too.

Blood ices, peering down at your necklace and the map contained within. Imagining how wide his net must be to thread throughout it all. How much work it must take to keep everything running. Ruthless discipline. How tiring it must be. The weight, the pressure to keep it all maintained.

Head beginnings swimming at the thought of it. Would you even be able to keep up with him?

Why are you telling me this?

The pen scratches over the parchment, struggling to keep lines clean through the slight tremor in your hands. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much work must regularly go into sustaining such a network.

It’s a little embarrassing that you don’t already know. What are they teaching you over there? How to be an emotional burden?

The words hit sharp in your chest, hooks latching into the soft, vascular muscle of your heart. Poised to shred in an instant. Awaiting for the split second of weakness to rip. Rupture the organ in a clean tear.

Fear spikes.

I understand why your brother wants nothing to do with you if that’s how you speak with people.

The words are stamped into the page before you have time to reason it out. Blood rushes round your ears, wincing as your fingertips burn with the faint embers of power that have begun sparking up every now and again. Preemptively reach for the hand cream, preparing to soothe the itch once it fully manifests.

He’ll read into that comment. You know he will. Read between the lines to figure out just how much that one stung.

Parchment reappears and you warily lean forward, eyes skimming the clean script.

I’d been wondering where you kept your lovely claws, cygnet.

I didn’t mean to write that.

Wipe hands on your skirts, anxiety kicking up in the pit of your stomach. Roiling with worry.

You knew perfectly well what you were doing. You simply despise the way you are.

Has anyone else commented on how similar you are to Nesta Archeron?

Heart sinks to your stomach, biting on your tongue until you taste copper. Dislike how deep he’s wormed his way already. How did things go from light-hearted sparring matches to full scale battle in so few conversations?

And what about you? You write, mimicking his earlier diversion. Do your brothers share your affinity for poisoned words?

The parchment vanishes for a while this time, though you don’t even try to distract yourself with the anthology. Leg taps anxiously, trying to rub cream into your hands, hoping if it’s done tonight, they won’t ache tomorrow. The last thing you need right now is another flare up. Try to focus on the scent—light and sweet. Like gardenias and sugar.

Your attempts to redirect are as graceful as the first steps of a freshly birthed hound. Perhaps once you settle into your skin you’ll become more skilled at deflecting uncomfortable topics.

Skin prickles, hairs standing on end as you again raise the pen in hand. Considering routes to return to earlier discussions that weren’t so intrusive.

Alternatively, you could choose lighter conversation starters. For example, why did you send the anthology?

Certainly not the most succinct switch in direction, but better than continuing down that path. Ease a breath into your lungs once the paper vanishes, reminding yourself you don’t have to reply to him. At any point, you’re free to leave. Lean back in your chair, stretching out your limbs, muscles spasming and aching in your shoulders, fingers trembling as bones click in your spine. Deflate into the seat, muscles relaxing all at once.

You haven’t noticed anything yet?

Brows furrow, peering at the volume. Close it and flip it over—nothing on the back. Reopen it to the contents page, peering at the compilation of titles, authors, and page numbers. Scan the introductory section again, searching for anything to give you a hint at what he’s talking about.

(Writing about.)

I’m mildly concerned to ask? You write, keeping the conversation light, steering away from the earlier topics. Hoping he’ll keep away from family-related chatter.

Then read away.

Heart spikes at the ominous reply. What the hell is he talking about?

Eris, are you serious?

Paper vanishes, reappearing moments later.

Nothing but.

Roll your eyes at the response, but again set pen to paper.

If you were a human, you’d be riddled in various worry-marks by now. Does that thought upset you?

Lips quirk faintly, hoping it irritates him sufficiently.

Is this how you cope with discomfort? Pretending it away? Making light of it?

Damn him.

Instead of…?

Instead of hiding like a coward. Your blithe little act is growing dreadfully monotonous.

Straighten in your chair, shifting uncomfortably. Are you boring? Is that it? Is that the whole reason he…

Do fae have milestone dates like humans do? You said you don’t remember your twenty-first.

Paper disappears, and you become aware of the tension coiling in your shoulders. Maybe you should turn in for the night. Writing to him is supposed to be fun, not make you feel so…

Squirm uncomfortably, slouching in the seat. Crick your neck, releasing built up pressure, stretching your toes. Move to blow out the candles, but the letter reappears.

You really are turning out to be quite dull.

Brows scrunch with hurt, then even out. It’s ridiculous to be upset over behaviour he’s made no effort to hide. You shouldn’t be surprised he’s not changing, yet you had hoped…

Swallow, then sigh, the pen feeling heavy in your hand.

And you’re unnecessarily barbed.

(Who taught you to be that way, Eris?)

(Am I going to grow up to be like you?)

Paper vanishes, but you find yourself awaiting a reply. Marinating in your room while your lids grow heavier, shoulders slumping with fatigue, the base of your spine beginning to ache.

Stand from your desk, eyes flicking unwillingly to your nightstand, a small, royal blue gift box sat neatly atop it. The tule bow as resplendent as ever—shifting between vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

(Sometimes, when it gets particularly bad, I like to look at it before I go to sleep. Fantasise about being the female he likes, instead of the one I am.)

(Sometimes, when I want to indulge in misery, I like to imagine dressing up for him. Imagine him telling me how pretty I am, imagine him sliding the golden hooks into pointed ears.)

(Sometimes I imagine.)

(Sometimes I imagine, because it’s the closest to reality I’ll ever get.)

Hear the distinct sound of paper on the table, and you still. End up turning anyway. Move over to your desk, reading the message.

You can do better.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Slump into the seat, head tipping back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms fall dully to your sides, too tired to feel anything.

Sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand in favour of pulling away your clothes. Rid yourself of every constraint, pendant clunking on the bedside table.

The same-old, off-white cotton night gown swallows you, falling to your ankles as you settle into the mattress.

And to think, you’d been considering asking what things were like in his court.

How nice it might have been to make a trip of your own.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel angst #azriel acotar #CBMTHY #azriel x reader angst #CBMTHY Chapter 8

[fear-is-truth]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧 x flu! reader

in his mind, there was a hint of selfish delight at the prospect of you staying home from school and spending the entire day with him.

but then he realized that you’re suffering, which it made him feel extremely guilty.

so he makes it his personal mission to make you feel better. (succeeded)

since he’s a ghost, he’s immune to your illness.

he brings you extra blankets and tissues, and anything you ask for. he’ll go get it, zero complaints.

“can i get you water? food? medicine?” 

“can i have a popsicle?”

“are you sure? you really shouldn't..."

“please?”

“…what flavour do you want?”

you play cards, listening to nirvana or just talk about random stuff.

he steals your cough drops when he thinks you’re not watching. he’s dead, but still has a sweet tooth.

lacing your fingers together while spooning. (the first time he assumes the position of the big spoon!)

𝐊𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 x common cold! reader

takes the day off to look after you.

"kit, it's just a common cold, you really don't have to-"

“in sickness and in health, mrs walka. don’t you remember?” 

he brings you extra blankets and wool socks if you’re feeling chilly.

a damp cloth for your forehead if you’re burning up.

he protects your peace when you’re sleeping.

“no, don't wake mommy! she’s sleepy and needs some rest. how 'bout you and thomas go make her a get-well card?”

does the household chores while you rest. ( laundry, cooking, helping the kids with their homework)

checks on your temperature every hour.

“my grandma swears by this chicken noodle soup recipe, nothing some soup and a cuddle can’t fix.”

this man is an absolute angel sent from heaven.

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 x common cold! reader

“you have a fever, sweetness. of course i'm not going anywhere.”

would be grossed-out the pile of used tissues on your bedside table. but he’s too polite to mention it.

he’ll call someone to clean it up, though.

brings your hand to his lips, murmuring sweet words. suddenly you’re not sure if the heat on your cheeks is from the fever or because of james.

pampers you like a literal goddess.

personally supervises the kitchen staff to prepare your favorite dishes, then has them delivered to you on a gleaming silver tray.

fresh bouquets of flowers.

“you need to drink the tonic, love. how else will your cold go away?”

“aw, darling you look miserable... need me to kill someone for your entertainment?”

he’ll tell you stories about his past travels; exotic places he’d visited. (or his most prided murders, if you’re into that sort of thing too)

𝐊𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 x stomach flu! reader

he leans against the bathroom door, face devoid of any emotion, while you hunch over the toilet, vomiting.

eventually, he lets out a sigh and squats down beside you, gently pulling back your hair away as you continue to retch into the toilet.

“you look like absolute crap.”

after you’re done, kai stands up. without warning, he scoops you up, bridal style.

“puke on me, and i’ll drop you.”

he carries you downstairs to the basement and dumps you rather unceremoniously onto the couch. hands you a bucket.

then he ignores you. acts like he doesn’t give a flying fuck about your well-being.

sits on the floor working on his laptop, occasionally sneaking glances at your direction.

“you can watch tv if you want. just not american housewife.”

“i’m going to the kitchen. need anything?”

mansplains to you about the importance of health and self-preservation.

“why can’t you take better care of yourself, huh?” he grumbles as he tossed you a throw blanket.

“this one’s gonna cost you. big time.” he groused as he set a glass of water and two tylenol on the coffee table.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 x common cold! reader

tells his frat brothers to kindly leave the two of you alone.

he dots on you. babies you, even.

“come on. take the medicine, i’ll get you some ice cream after you’ve taken it”

keeps a steady supply of throat lozenges and tissues within your reach, anticipating your needs before you even ask.

draws a warm bath for you when he sees you shivering.

lends you his own clothes to wear.

you looked so adorable in his hoodie and sweatpants, he stared at you.

you watch a movie on his laptop, snuggled against each other in bed.

soothing back rubs!

“you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me like this, ky.”

“you won’t get me sick. well. you might, but i don’t mind.” 

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

✧. a/n ─ my apologies for not including jimmy and austin.. will update when i finish watching! pls excuse the crappy writing, english is not my first language.

✧. part 2: the evans when they are sick

©️@brknlamb

#american horror story #tate langdon #kai anderson #evan peters #james patrick march #kit walker #kyle spencer #tate langdon x reader #kai anderson x y/n #jpm x reader #kit walker x reader #ahs #tate langdon x y/n #kai anderson x reader #ahs imagine #the evans headcanons

[gingiesworld]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings : Slight smut. Angst. Fluff. Afab! Reader

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff

18+ MINORS DNI

The snow was starting to come down, growing heavier by the minute that passed. Wanda was a panting mess beneath Y/N as they thrust the silicone toy into her aching core.

“I’m gonna…” Wanda screamed as she came down from her high. What only started as a movie marathon turned into something much more.

“Are you ok?” Y/N asked once she had calmed down, all Wanda could do was nod before she looked over at the clock.

“Shit.” She pushed Y/N away from her, scrambling to get her clothes on as Y/N threw on their own. “He is going to be pissed.”

“Come on Wanda, he’ll understand.” They told her as Wanda fixed her hair with her fingers.

“He doesn’t know. No one knows about this.” She told them. “Pietro is cooking dinner and my parents are going to be there.” She looked at her phone, seeing multiple missed calls from her twin. “Fuck.”

“Hey, you can’t leave.” They told her, moving closer as she tried to make sure she had everything.

“This was never meant to happen.” Wanda whispered. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“Hey. It’s ok, just give him a call.” They told her as she looked out of the window.

“I won’t be able to get a cab, not in that.” Wanda told them as they gave her a gentle smile, although their heart broke piece by piece everytime she left.

“Stay here.” They tried as Wanda shook her head.

“You know why I can’t.” She whispered as she squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.” She started for the door as Y/N remained in their spot, frozen and nervous about what they were going to do.

“I am in love with you Wanda.” They told her, causing Wanda to stop. “I have been for a while now and since then, everytime you walk out through that door breaks my heart, little by little.” She took a shaky breath before she turned to face them. “Please stay here, it’s too cold and dangerous out there.”

“But my family?” She whispered as a tear fell.

“They will understand, your safety will be their first priority.” They stood before her, wiping her tears away before Wanda gazed into their eyes.

“I am in love with you too.” She whispered before Y/N placed a tender kiss on her lips. Y/N led her to their room, urging her to get out of her jeans and into something comfier as they prepared dinner.

“My god Wanda! I have been so worried!!” Her twin exclaimed as he answered the phone.

“I’m ok. I am stuck at Y/N’s.” She informed them. “There’s no cab available and well, it’s not going to be a nice walk.”

“As long as you’re safe. I honestly thought about calling around the local hospitals just in case.” He told her.

“You’re such a mom.” She teased him as he chuckled.

“Well, mama and papa will be here until New Year, so maybe you might be able to make it before they leave.” He suggested as she hummed a yes. “Maybe you can bring Y/N too.” He teased her as she swore at him before the two bid their goodbyes.

“My Gran’s famous sloppy soup.” Y/N exclaimed as Wanda smiled as they brought the bowls in on a tray.

“I’ve missed her soup.” Wanda told them.

“I’ve been meaning to cook it but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, until now.” They told her as the two sat side by side, an old christmas movie playing on the TV as they both conversed about the simple things. Both finally happy to have everything out in the open and honest with each other.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

[unclewaynemunson]

A soft knock on the door and a half-whispered "hey there" wake Eddie up from an uneasy sleep. A strip of light shines through the gap of the door, illuminating the figure of Steve standing in the doorway.

"I got some soup for you. Are you feeling any better?"

Eddie shuffles into an upright sitting position while Steve comes into the room and hands him a warm bowl filled with what's unmistakably his aunt's homemade creamed potato soup. Even with his blocked nose, Eddie can still tell that it smells exactly how he remembered it.

Before he knows it, tears start blurring his vision. It's the fucking soup that does it. The smell that brings back memories he tried so hard to leave behind when he suddenly had to leave what he once called his home more than ten years ago.

“Oh, honey,” says Steve in a voice that is so soft and caring that it makes Eddie want to cry even more. He sits down on the bed, right next to Eddie, and wraps both his arms around him, careful not to spill any of the soup. “This fucking sucks, right?”

“It does,” Eddie says quietly, and that's really all he needs to say. Steve will understand. Steve knows exactly how much Eddie was looking forward to this week, how excited he was to return to the mountains and to be reunited with his family and to show Steve all the places that hold so much meaning to him. 

For ten years he hadn't been able to visit. He had missed the mountain air like a chopped-off limb and seen his cousins grow up only through grainy polaroid pictures. And now that he's finally here, his body decided to betray him and keep him chained to his bed with the worst fucking cold he’s ever had.

It's been so long since he has been home that it almost doesn't really feel like home anymore. He never wanted to leave in the first place, but the circumstances gave him no choice. When his dad got locked up Eddie had nowhere else to go but to his Uncle Wayne, who lived states away and who he had only met twice before in his life. He had to leave everyone he cared about behind: his grandma, who would've taken him in within a heartbeat if she hadn't been too old to take care of a ten-year-old kid; his mother, who had already slipped away too deep into her addictions to keep Eddie around in good conscience; his aunt and uncle, who had too many mouths to feed with too little money and couldn't afford the additional burden of another rapidly growing teenager; and his many cousins, of course, who grew up side-by-side with him and made the move feel like he was leaving an unmissable part of his soul behind.

Granted, moving in with Wayne soon turned out to be not by far as dramatic as Eddie had prepared himself for. It turned out that Wayne was actually a better parent to Eddie than his dad ever was. But no matter how much love and care Wayne gave him over the years, it could not be enough to replace home. Nothing was.

Ten years had passed since Eddie left. Most of the cousins moved out, either to find a better life for themselves or to follow the path that Eddie's father had taken. Some of them had kept in touch with Eddie, some of them hadn't. Some of them had gained a family of their own, with spouses and nephews and nieces who Eddie never got to meet.

And now he's back, and everything keeps going differently than how he envisioned it.

He blinks away his tears and tries to eat as much as he can stomach of his aunt's soup.

“Your cousin Jay called,” Steve tells him. “He insisted on visiting tomorrow, whether you're feeling better or not. He said he can’t wait to see you.”

“That's nice,” Eddie answers flatly. “D'you know he hasn't reached out to me in years?” He sighs. “It's so weird to be back here. I thought it would be different.”

“Different how?”

“More like coming home, I guess. But all the places have changed. I barely know some of those people anymore.”

He places the unfinished bowl of soup aside. Steve pulls him closer in his arms and presses a gentle kiss on his curls.

“I've felt so angry about Hawkins for so long,” Eddie admits to him, “but now it's like I don't belong here anymore either.”

“You do belong in Hawkins, you know,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs.

“No, I'm serious,” Steve insists. “Has Wayne ever told you that he thinks you coming to live with him was the best thing that ever happened to him?” He doesn't wait for an answer as he continues: “And your bandmates, the Hellfire Club, all those lost sheepies you've been looking out for over the years... Maybe Hawkins didn't exactly welcome you with open arms when you just came there, but you made a home there. You did that.”

“And where are you on that list, Stevie?” Eddie asks, a teasing edge returning to his voice despite how awful he’s still feeling.

It takes Steve a few seconds to answer, but when he does, he sounds surprisingly soft and genuine, almost shy.

“Wherever you want me to be.”

“Don't worry big boy,” Eddie tells him softly, nuzzling his face into Steve's chest, where it's warm and where the sound of Steve's heartbeat forms a comforting presence. “You're the most important part of what home means. Top of the list, whether we're in Hawkins or here in the south or on the other side of the world.”

Steve hums and kisses Eddie's temple.

“I do wish this week would've been more like how you wanted it to be,” he says. “But for what it's worth, it sounded like Jay was really excited about reconnecting with you. Let's see if you can sleep off this cold, and tomorrow will be a new day, alright?”

Steve starts to pull away to leave Eddie alone in the bed again, but Eddie clenches his fists around the fabric of his polo.

“Stay with me?”

Steve chuckles softly. “Of course.”

He sits back down on the bed with his back against the wall and gently manhandles Eddie until he's lying with his head in Steve's lap. And with Steve's fingers softly stroking through his hair, Eddie quickly drifts back to sleep again.

Tomorrow will be a new day. And even if being back is bittersweet, at least Steve is with him - and the sound of Steve's heartbeat will always be home.

This one's for my dear friend dae @strawberryspence because sometimes life sucks and while nothing can actually solve it, some warm soup and a loving hug can at least make things a little bit more bearable <3

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[7s3ven]

LACY. cato hadley

( master list )

IN WHICH… Clove Kentwell can’t help but compare herself to Cato’s ex. They may have dated a year ago, but she sees the way he still looks at her.

“Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me. You poison every little thing that I do”

—

“Cato, are you listening?” Clove placed a hand on her boyfriend’s muscular arm, her eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t usually worried but with how distant Cato had been lately, she couldn’t help it.

“Huh?” Finally, Cato turned to her. “Yeah. I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired.” But his eyes didn’t fail to trail back to her. Clove followed his line of sight, feeling a sudden burst of jealousy.

He had been paying more attention to her than Clove.

Y/N L/N, District Two’s prized possession. A delicate beauty none the less. And Cato Hadley’s ex-girlfriend. It had been a year since the two broke up but he was still gazing at her from time to time, which angered Clove.

She had tried to bring it up with him, but he brushed her off. “Cato.” She tugged on his shirt, gaining his attention. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” The pair were sitting in a small cafe that happened to be Y/N’s favorite. She was always sitting in the corner, laughing with friends.

“I thought you liked this place.” Cato tilted his head to the side.

“I do.” Clove glanced down at the cinnamon spice coffee that she adored, “But I… want a change of scenery.” All she wanted was one day where she didn’t have to witness Cato eying up Y/N.

“Uh. Yeah. We can leave.”

Clove did her best to hide her sigh of relief. They stood up, pushing their chairs back. Clove grabbed her drink and practically shoved Cato out the door.

“What about that dessert place you like?” Cato questioned. Only, Clove didn’t like desserts. She liked warm and hot things; like hot chai lattes and spicy soup. Y/N was the one who liked desserts.

“I’m not in the mood for cold things.” Clove smiled, cooly playing it off. She couldn’t help but loathe Y/N for influencing Cato this much and leaving such a huge mark. But it was partly her fault for falling in love with a guy who wasn’t over his ex.

“Do you just want to go home and watch a movie then?” Cato suggested. Finally, he remembered one right detail about her. Clove silently nodded, taking another sip from her cup.

Cato abruptly paused. “Hey, your friend is friends with Y/N, right?” Clove wasn’t even disappointed at this point.

She heaved a light sigh. “Yeah. I guess. They talk.”

“Great. I need to return some things to her but I don’t know her new address. So do you think you could ask your friend?”

“I’m not really comfortable with you being around Y/N.” Clove fiddled with her fingers, which was another trait she had gained from her relationship with Cato.

Cato quietly scoffed, but not in a rude way. He smiled. “It’s just a few things, Clo. I’ll be in and out like that.” He quickly snapped his fingers. Clove rocked back and forth on her heels before giving in.

“I’ll ask but I can’t make any promise.” She uttered, the light in her eyes dimming when she saw Cato grin wider.

Y/N was the type of girl nobody could compare to with her stunning E/C eyes and lingering perfume that hung heavily on her skin.

She was Heather Conan talked about. She was Lacy Olivia referred to. And in a way, she was Clove’s rival.

“Excuse me.”

Clove’s heart practically dropped after she heard that all too familiar voice. Cato seemed to spin around impossibly fast.

Y/N stood behind them, softly smiling. “I think you left this.” She held up a hardcover book that Clove had forgotten to grab despite it being her favorite.

“Oh…” Clove quickly reached for it, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Thank you.” She choked out. Y/N sent her another smile that made Clove feel sick. How could she be so perfect?

“Cato, I found some of your stuff in my closet.” Y/N turned to the blond-haired boy. “Would you be wanting it back?” Clove almost prayed for Cato to ignore her. To not reply. But Cato opened his mouth anyway.

“I have some of your things too. I was planning on asking Clove’s friend, Aria, for your address.”

“Oh, Aria! She’s so nice. She let me borrow her perfume once.”

It was like Clove wasn’t even there. She clenched her hands into fists as she watched the two converse like they were old friends. They somewhat were but their dating history made it weird for them to be speaking so casually.

Cato was hanging off every word Y/N said which left Clove alone. She almost shrivelled under all the pitying looks people passing by gave her, but she continued to stand tall.

“I’ll meet you there then?” Y/N asked, her perfectly tinted lips curving upwards. Her makeup was always perfect, unlike Clove who preferred to wear none at all. Suddenly, Clove grew self-conscious.

Did Cato like feminine girls? Clove looked Y/N up and down, noticing her neat outfit. The H/C-nette was wearing a skirt while Clove was dressed in loose fitting cargo pants. Her gaze flickered to Y/N’s hair. Every strand was placed perfectly while Clove’s hair was simply pulled back into a messy ponytail.

“Yeah. See you.” Cato bid Y/N farewell. He looked at Clove again, who was losing her confidence the more she compared herself to Y/N. “You ready to go?”

Clove hid her insecurity behind a smile. “Yeah.” She muttered, her voice quieter than she planned it to be.

The couple always watched movies at Cato’s house. His family had a spare room that they used as a small movie theatre. Clove leaned against Cato and despite him allowing her to do so, she knew he wished she was someone else.

“So, what were you and Y/N talking about?” Clove carefully questioned as the movie had begun playing. She felt Cato shrug.

“Not much. We were just arranging a place and time to give stuff back.”

“Why do you still have her stuff?”

“I must’ve forgotten about it.”

The pang in Clove’s heart told her that he was lying. She saw the way he hugged a pink hoodie to sleep. It wasn’t her’s, and it didn’t smell like her either. Clove’s perfume was heavy and mature while the hoodie smelled airy and floral… just like Y/N.

Clove did her best to focus on the movie. She would get lost in her thoughts from time to time but always came back to reality when Cato shifted around.

Clove yawned and slightly slouched, letting the cushions of the couch engulf her. She glanced at Cato who was too focused on the screen to notice.

She suddenly paused the movie, confusing Cato. “Are you leaving now?” He asked, watching as she stood up. She shook her head.

“Cato, we need to talk about…” Clove paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Some things that have been happening recently.”

Cato raised his eyebrows, indirectly telling her to continue.

“Lately we haven’t been the same. I mean, I’m training more and you… you seem distracted. Did I do something wrong?” Clove had never felt more vulnerable than right now.

“I mean… you did eat salt and vinegar chips with Oreos.” Cato quietly chuckled.

“That’s not what I mean!” Clove exclaimed, “And that was a dare just so you know!” She pointed a finger at Cato. “You keep looking at her. And don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m referring to.”

“What? Y/N?” The way Cato immediately caught on unnerved Clove. “Clo, she’s just a friend. Not even that. I only talked to her today because I needed to.”

“I see the way you look at her. And…” Clove had to take a minute to compose herself, “I know that you wish I was her.” Cato said nothing, confirming her theory.

“Clove.” He uttered after a moment. That was the first time he had called her by her real name in a long time. “I’m dating you. Not her. I”- Clove unexpectedly cut him off.

“Then why does it feel like we aren’t dating?!” She shouted, her voice slightly shaking. She was glad no one else was home. “Why does it feel like… I’m a replacement?”

“You aren’t”-

Clove didn’t let Cato speak. She launched straight into another scolding. “Why are you always looking at her?! And ignoring me! I’m your girlfriend, Cato! Me! Not her! So why do you pay more attention to Y/N than me? You hardly even talk to me now!” If Clove was a normal girl, she would be sobbing. But her parents taught her to keep her emotions, especially her sadness, at bay.

Cato remained silent, staring at her with the same look of pity everybody else did. All Clove wanted was for him to look at her the same way he looked at Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Clo.” He uttered. Clove took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for whatever was next to come. “I just can’t love you like I love her.”

“I see.” The brunette whispered. She quickly gathered her things, blinking away small tears.

“Clove. Come on.” Cato stood up as she walked away. “We can talk about this. Where are you going? Clove.” He was annoyingly insistent on following her.

Clove spun around, staring right into Cato’s eyes. “I can’t be her, Cato. So maybe it’s best if we split up.” She was prepared to leave but Cato grabbed her wrist.

“Y/N.” He uttered without thinking. His grip loosened on Clove’s wrist once he realized his mistake.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” Clove unlocked the front door, stepping out. “Just… leave my stuff on the doorstep and I’ll do the same.” She closed the door behind her and allowed herself a moment of weakness.

Cato stood on the other side, listening to Clove’s quiet sobs and sniffs. He slowly backed away. He knew that deep down, Clove was right. He did wish she was Y/N.

He glanced at the box Y/N’s stuff. It sat at the bottom of the stairs, almost collecting dust.

Maybe it’s for the best, he told himself. He had already hurt Clove enough. There was no reason for him to pretend that he loved her as much as he still loved Y/N.

#hunger games x reader #cato hunger games #cato hadley #clove kentwell #cato x reader #cato thg #thg series #dystopia #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot

[bl00d-bunny]

wakeup call - lip gallagher

-pairing- lip gallagher x fem!reader

-summary- after you're late for a shift at patsy's pies, lip swings by your apartment to check on you

-warnings- smut minors dni!!, smoking (w33d), shameless activities lol, general smuttiness, unprotected p in v (be smart, wrap it!),

-word count- 2k

-additional notes- not proofread or edited,

18+ minors do not interact!

the southside wasn’t the best place to live and you knew that, between the near-constant construction and the fights on the streets it was a miracle that you ever got a lay in. you hadn’t been able to sleep until at least 3 am since your neighbours decided to blast crappy songs in an attempt to hide the fact they were fucking all night long (it didn’t work, obviously). And it sounded like they just started up again, great.

you sigh as you glance at the clock, 9.34 am, there goes your lie-in. you roll over and pull a pillow over your head, but the pounding against the wall only gets louder. eventually, you decide you can’t take it anymore, full of rage and lack of sleep, you throw yourself out of your warm bed, tugging your robe on tight. as you make your way to the front door you realise the banging was not your neighbours going for round 5, it was someone knocking on your door, aggressively.

you grab the wooden baseball bat you keep by the front door just in case and make your way to the door. on your tip toes, bat raised, you squint to look through the peephole. you roll your eyes and lower the bat. what was lip gallagher doing pounding on your door on a sunday morning?

“what do you want?” you swing the door open.

juxtapose to his knocking, he didn’t seem angry.

“fi sent me, you didn’t show up for your shift,” he said plainly.

fiona really helped you out when you were in a bad place, she gave you a job at patsy’s and let you rent one of her apartments. she got you off the streets and gave you stability and for that, you were forever grateful but you knew you didn’t have a shift today, you never had a shift on a sunday, and in the rare case you worked a sunday shift you wouldn’t start til 11. you told lip that much.

“it’s saturday and…” he pulled out his phone to check the time, “it’s quarter past 12,”

“what? no, my clock said…” you trailed off rushing back to your bedroom

9.34 am still flashed on your alarm clock, the power must have gone out. you grabbed your phone from where it was charging but it didn’t turn on. it died last night on your shift, but you plugged it in. and it was still plugged in you pushed the cord and your phone lit up letting you know it was finally charging.

“fuck!” you flopped back onto your bed, dragging your hands down your face.

“i’ll call fiona,” you jumped not realising he had followed you, standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

“thank you, i’ll literally be 5 minutes,” you pushed past him making your way to the bathroom.

you brushed your teeth in record time, turning the faucet off you overheard him on the phone.

“…she can’t stop throwing up, fi. there’s no way she can come in.”

you poked your head out of the bathroom “what the fuck are you doing?!?” you mouthed to him.

“relax, trust me” he turned his attention back to his phone, “i think i’m gonna stay here a little while and make sure she’s okay,”

you looked at him with wide eyes, what was he doing? you were practically ready for work and he just told fiona you’re not going in.

“what was that all about?” you started as soon as his phone was back in his pocket.

“well now neither of us has to go to work” he shrugged with a smug smile.

“and what if fiona decides to come to check up on us?” you questioned. when you are actually sick, sometimes fiona will stop by and check on you, maybe bring you some soup and a box of tissues. what if she came to check up on you and saw you were fine and lip was nowhere to be seen?

“guess we will have to hang out here, ya know just in case,” he settled himself on the sofa.

“whatever, i’m gonna try and get some sleep,” lack of sleep finally caught up to you as you shuffled to your bed that had long lost its warmth.

after what felt like an eternity you gave up on going back to sleep. tired of tossing and turning you moved to the living room. plopping yourself on the opposite side of the couch from where lip was scrolling on his phone, as whatever daytime show played on your tv. you reached under your coffee table, pulled out your rolling tray, and began rolling a joint. you saw lip watching you out of the corner of your eye but chose to ignore him until you brought the joint to your lips. you locked eyes with him as you slowly slide your tongue out to lick the gum strip before rolling the joint closed. you only broke eye contact to find a lighter, which of course you couldn’t find. lip shifted his body weight as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, he moved closer to you and sparked it. you leaned in, joint held between your lips, looking down as the end glowed red in the orange flame.

you brought your fingers up to remove the blunt from your lips, closing your eyes and leaning back as you inhale, feeling the warmth of the weed spread throughout your whole body, instantly relaxing you. exhaling, you sit up again taking another puff before holding the spliff towards lip, instead of taking it he pulled you closer to him with your outstretched arm. you’re confused until you finally exhale your last puff and he inhales it keeping his eyes on yours. you bring the joint to your lips once more, inhaling deeper this time, moving your lips inches away from his as you exhaled.

you watch as the milky smoke moves from your lips to his. your entire being is warm, maybe its the weed, maybe its lips hands resting on your legs, or simply the close proximity, but you feel lightheaded. finally breaking eye contact with him you place the joint in the ashtray- but don’t you move from your cross-legged position and he doesn’t move his hands from your legs.

you watched his eyes fall from yours to your lips and back again. you knew what was coming next, it was only a matter of time. you and lip have had this predicament going on for a while now. you’d flirt with each other, tease each other, until the tension hung in the air like smoke, and just when one of you was about to make a move, there was always an interruption. sometimes it was a phone call, or someone walking in, no matter what it was the interruption was always there. maybe it was a sign that you shouldn’t, but neither of you cared enough to pay it any mind.

but here, in your apartment, alone, together, with nowhere to be, there was no interruption this time. he knew that you knew that, still neither made the move to close the gap. maybe a little more weed would help speed things along, you reached towards the half-smoked joint still in the ashtray, but he stopped you, his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. before you could say anything, do anything, his lips were on yours, hungry as if he was starved and only you could satisfy his hunger.

his hands on your face pulling you impossibly close, you pulled yourself to be on his lap, your arms around his neck fingers tangling in his hair. no distractions, no interruptions, just you two on the couch smoke hanging in clouds around, keeping the world out.

you feel him grow hard beneath you, grinding against him, searching for friction in any form, he growled in your mouth so you continued.

he pinned you between himself and your worn-down couch, his tongue moving against your own. you bucked your hips, still chasing any kind of touch or friction. his large hands came to pin your hips against the tattered couch, you whined missing the movement.

“be patient,” he kissed your jaw. you turned your head to allow him more access as he left sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping here and there. you bit down on your lip to not give him the satisfaction.

he soon found out how worked up he’d got you when he shoved his hand down your pants. his slender fingers teasing your clit with large, slow circles. you reach between you to start unbuttoning his pants but he uses his opposite hand to pin your wrists above your head.

“really?” you huff out

“i told you to be patient,” he smirked applying pressure to your clit that caused you to squirm beneath him, his teeth at your neck.

eventually, he removed his hand from your wrists in favour of your boobs, pulling your neckline down to expose your chest. one hand pinching at your nipple, the other keeping up the slow circles on your clit, as if he couldn’t be doing anymore he brought his lips to your free nipple, sucking and nipping leaving you a mess. the room was spinning, your head clouded, heart beating wildly underneath your ribcage.

he removed himself from you, much to your displeasure. with his legs on either side of you, he unbuttoned your pants, pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you breathless. with him above you now you could see his cock struggling against his jeans, almost instinctively you reach up to unbutton them. he stands up to remove them further as you kick yours from around your ankles.

he kneels over you once more, one hand next to your head the other pumping his cock between you. you look down to watch, subconsciously biting your lip. he readies himself between your legs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. in one agonisingly slow thrust he bottomed out. you squeezed your eyes shut mentally adjusting your self.

he places a hand on your hip as he pulls out almost completely, he looks down where the two of you connect. you can’t help but buck your hips desperate to feel him inside of you again. he brings both his hands to you hips to press you into the couch, all you can do is whine, showing him just how desperate you are.

before you knew it his hips snapped against yours in a ruthless thrust causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head, a mix of a moan and a scream climb from your throat.

his lips against your ear now “ i warned you to be paitent,” his voice darker than before

“guess i’ll just have to teach. you. a lesson.” each word punctuated with a thrust deeper than the last. you felt yourself coming undone, he knew it too, between the moans you let out and your nails in his back, lip knew exactly what he was doing to you.

he released you hips from his grasp but didn’t let up on the speed, he brought his thumb to your clit drawing slow steady circles, a mind-numbing contrast to his thrusts now growing sloppy.

his breath hot across your face, he was close, you were too, it was a matter of time before one of you came tipping the other over the edge. he picked up the circles on your clit hoping to make you come first, you attacked his neck with your tongue, trying not to give him the satisfaction. but it was to little to late, he had you a mess beneath him, you wrapped a leg around his hip, allowing him to hit just the right spot.

in a matter of seconds, you came, closing your eyes you allowed yourself to be swallowed by the sensations, lip following closely behind, collapsing on top of you.

eyes still closed, trying to catch your breath, you feel lip get up and move to the other side of the couch, then you hear the lighter click and his steady inhale. without opening your eyes you stick you hand out in his direction awaiting the joint, instead you only hear him inhale again. you sit up giving him a death glare.

“did that lesson really teach you nothing?” he smirks before blowing the smoke in your direction.

you stand up, taking the joint from him before sitting on his lap, taking a long inhale.

“i guess i’ll be needing more lessons then”

WANT MORE LIP GALLAGHER SMUT?? Check out this!!

#bunny writes #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher x reader #shameless #shameless us #shameless imagine

[coveted-covey]

Word count: 2,161

Living near a beach all their life ideally would have made anyone develop a better immune system than most. 

There’s the warmth of the ever-loving sun, the salty ocean breeze, the fun things you could do on the beach. With that said, you really don’t know what got you bedridden since yesterday night.

*Ah-choo!!*

You quickly grab a tissue from your bedside table, bringing it to your face to blow your nose pitifully. A cough quickly follows suit, shaking your whole being. You gingerly toss the balled up tissue to the bin except that you miss it by a couple of feet. Head throbbing from the hard cough you just had, you huff in annoyance as you slather your hands with the hand sanitizer you have on you.

“Goddd, I hate being sick.”

That seems to be the cue for Mom to knock and come in with a tray of what you could only guess as chicken noodle soup, a glass of water, and medicine. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

You whine despite yourself. “Bad,” you try to sit up slowly when another sneeze hunches your upper body. “Ugh, very bad.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” she sets the tray on your bedside table then reaches out to feel your forehead using the back of her hand. She hums thoughtfully, “Still hasn’t gone down. Here, eat. The warm soup should make you feel better.” 

She adjusts the pillow behind you and you uncurl your back as she does so. “Where’s Ma?”

Your Mom sniffs and dabs fake tears from her eyes. “You look for Ma while I’m right here? You hurt my feelings, [Name].” 

The scowl you’re wearing must have worked (as much as a half-hearted scowl could) because she adds right after a small endearing sigh, “She had to go to work. You know that she’d have wanted to be here taking care of you instead of going to work, but I already took the day off. You’ll see her this afternoon, okay?” She fixes your hair and kisses your forehead softly.

“Okay. Thank you,” you try to clear your throat. “I’ll feed myself, Mom, no need to worry.” She laughs at that. 

With the food set up on the bed tray, she stands up then gestures to the door. “Then I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You make a noncommittal sound then start spooning the soup to eat. It’s good. Warm and soothing. You are on your fifth spoonful when you hear the doorbell ring muffledly from the first floor. 

“Hi, Cove!” You hear your Mom’s voice greet the visitor. Your ears instantly perk up at that. Cove? There was a bit of a hushed discussion and then you hear the door close.

Did he leave? You pout at the thought. Maybe Mom made him leave because you're sick. You frown harder at that. But you want to see him…

The spoon is halfway to your mouth once again when you hear a soft knock from the other side of your door. “[Name]? It’s Cove.”

“C-Cove!” you almost choke at your words when a hack disrupts your speech. “Come” –a cough– “in–”

The door opens, your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows downturned as he surveys you.  “I’m here… Are you okay?”

You chuckle at that. “As okay as someone could be with their immunocytes fighting for their life.” 

He laughs airily, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “I heard that you were sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You look at your phone five steps away from your bed and he follows your gaze. “Something about my phone being literally out of my reach.” You turn to him, “How did you know I’m sick?”

“Liz.” 

“Oh– I may or may not have been complaining to her about wanting to see you but not being able to.” 

“Oh… I was actually almost sent away just now, but I also wanted to see you so I tried to convince your mom to let me stay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No problem.”

You blink at him, his gaze locked onto your eyes. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t quite place. Almost like–but maybe it’s just your fever making you see things–

“I’m sorry we can’t hang out,” you shift awkwardly. “Weren’t you planning on doing something today?”

He breaks off his gaze from you and moves to bring your desk chair beside your bed. “It’s alright. I-it’s not as fun without you around.”

You look down at the soup starting to cool off on your tray, feeling your cheeks become hotter for some reason. “...I see.” You bite your lip, still not looking up.

Cove sits on the chair and looks at the poster on the opposite wall. “You should probably finish the soup.” 

You regard him, a bit incredulous. “You gonna watch me eat?”

It’s then that you notice he’s not looking at you and that his ears and neck are redder than when he got sunburnt that one time he stubbornly did not put on sunscreen. That only happened once, in your younger years, and you never saw it happen again. Maybe he stayed too long outside before coming to your house. You open your mouth to speak when he responds: 

“Well, not watch watch, that would be weird–! I just thought it’d be nice to hang out here, for a bit, since you can’t go outside and all. And I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone; I totally understand–” he gestures wildly, and you feel your hand stretching out to his gesticulating hands.

“Calm down, Cove,” you laugh softly. “I want you here. I mean,” you clear your throat, “Yes, of course we can hang out. Though I’m kind of worried about you catching whatever I have right now.”

Your neighbor stills, looking fixedly at your hand touching his wrist. Then he looks up, seagreen eyes wavering a bit. Softly, he says, “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll stay.”

You grin at him, reluctantly letting go of his wrist. “So what were you doing before coming here?”

He smiles back, then regales you of stories about what he did earlier today as you finish up your chicken noodle soup and take your medicine.

~*~

You fell asleep.

Cove looks at your sleeping figure, seemingly deep in thought. He breathes out a laugh when you wrinkle your nose in your sleep. 

Cute. 

Huh, what?

Man, he should get it together.

He sighs, defeated. There’s something that’s been bothering him lately. 

It’s you. 

He can’t seem to stop thinking about you lately, and it’s driving him insane. 

He finds himself staring at you more. He blames it on how bright and captivating your smile is.

He finds himself itching to touch you more. But you’re best friends. You do touch platonically quite a lot. You hold hands when necessary. (When he helps you go up the poppy hill. When he helps you go down to the beach. When you go to town during the peak summer season and he doesn’t want to lose you in the not-quite-a-crowd crowd. Those are what he considers necessary.) And you do hug. Side hugs are quite normal in your friendship, but lately he does not seem to want to let go.

It’s you, on his mind, 24/7. He’s not sure for how much longer he can take it.

You shift in your sleep, kicking off your blanket. His mind stops whirring at that and stands up to gently put the blanket back over your exposed feet.

Inching his chair closer, he eyes your hand over the blanket and sighs again for the hundredth time in the past hour. 

He wants to hold your hand so bad.

But it’s just right there, open for the taking. He’s almost sure you wouldn’t mind him holding your hand, but doing it while you’re asleep and unaware is making him doubt that.

His hands tremble on his lap. 

He’s gonna do it.

His heart beats faster inside his ribcage and sweat beads on his neck. Slowly and steadily, he outstretches his hand until the pads of his fingers lightly touch the back of your hand. Gently, he flips your hand over then clasps your hand in his.

He wills his heart rate down then marvels at you.

Smiling to himself, he stands and leans down to press a light kiss on your temple.

“Feel better soon, [Name].”

With that soft get well soon wish, he sits back down, your hand in his hand.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to confess his feelings for you. And he’ll get to do it while you’re awake.

~*~

.

.

.

You blink blearily, seeing your bedroom walls shining with a bright orange-pink glow from your window. With a deep sigh, you look at the digital clock you have on your bedside table. It reads 5:37 PM.

Must’ve fallen asleep sometime after eating– And. 

Oh, right! Cove was here.

Your eyes look around, trying to get back to the waking world. Did he leave already?

That’s when you notice a weight on your hand, then you look to your side to see your neighbor, Cove James Holden, asleep, using one arm as a pillow as his other hand holding yours. His seagreen hair almost looked golden due to the sunset hues coming from the window behind him.

Like a moth to a flame, you can’t help but draw your other hand close to touch his hair. You’re about to pat his head when you feel his hand lightly grip the hand in his hold. “[Name]?”

You smile awkwardly at him, caught red handed. You clear your throat. “Uh, good evening?”

He grins at you drowsily, taking your other hand and letting it flop on his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you smile softly. Better since you came here. 

“Hmm, that’s good,” he yawns. “Sorry, I fell asleep here.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Ha, you’re right,” he laughs, eyes shining as he beholds you. “[Name].”

“Hmm?” You continue stroking his now-golden hair, a soft smile on your face.

He looks at you seriously and you see the gears in his head turn and finally decide against what he initially planned. He shakes his head, looking down at your joined hands. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

You nod sagely, then give him a light grin. “It’s okay… Feel free to tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

With hands comfortable in each other's, the both of you sit in contemplative silence; it's quiet but not uncomfortable. For a brief moment only the rolling waves from the beach and your soft breathing were the only sounds you can hear, then you ask,

“Hey, you did not use the window,” you tease.

He grins, gently pushing stray hair from your eyes, “You're practically bedridden, would you have opened it for me still?”

“Yes.”

Maybe it's because of the way you looked while you said it, or the fact that the answer quickly left your mouth, but your response startles a laugh out of Cove. “I figured. Which is why I didn't. Shouldn't disturb resting patients and all that.” He laughs fondly, adjusting his hold on your now sweating palms. He does not seem to want to let go despite that.

You pout. Is he making fun of you? 

“Sorry, I'm not making fun of you,” he lightly grins, his thumb rubbing at your hand soothingly. “I just really didn’t want to disturb you while you're resting.”

Your heart rate speeds up and your face heats up at his soft admission, leaving you no choice but to look away. God, you really, really hate being sick. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, because why is he looking at you like that?

Him and his soft eyes and soft grin and soft hair and soft demeanor looking at you like he’s…

…

“What a charmer,” you mutter under your breath.

Your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows shoot up at that, “What?” His lips wobble into a startled frown and whines, “Hey, I was being serious you know.”

You sigh, then slowly shift yourself up. You do not miss the way Cove immediately stands to help you, his hand still holding yours. You take in the hold he has on you then at him as he settles back down once you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Cove.”

“Hmm?”

You laugh at the feeling of deja vu. Didn’t this happen just a few minutes earlier? You grin at him. “Nothing, I guess I’ll tell you when you’re ready to tell me what you were about to tell me earlier.” You lightly squeeze his hand in yours to tell him that you’re not making fun of him. 

It may be too soon, but you hope he tells you tomorrow when you’re fully recovered.

fic by @coveted-covey (2024).

a/n: slowly experimenting with formatting and stuff. i'm still not sure what i'm doing but i'm getting there! lol

#divider by @cafekitsune #this is such a cute divider oml. i hope nobody else is currently using it in OLBA fics! #cove holden x reader #cove holden x reader fluff #cove holden x you #cove x mc #cove holden fluff #olba cove #our life cove #cove holden #cove x reader #cove our life

[alotofpockets]

Not your typical date | Wanda Maximoff | Part 2

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: After meeting Wanda's kids and you spend more and more time getting to know her and her family.

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.2k

Part 1 | Part 2

Since that first day that you had met Billy and Tommy, you spent the weekends that the boys were with Wanda at their place. The boys loved showing you a new recipe every week and you loved to learn every recipe that they wanted to show you. Unintentionally the four of you had started your own little tradition. Billy and Tommy loved having you around, and when they found out that you loved gaming as much as you did, they loved it even more.

On the weekends and throughout the week, you spent most of your free time with Wanda. The two of you continued to get to know each other and grow closer together. To be honest, it felt like you had known Wanda for a lifetime, in the best way possible. You clicked so instantly that you couldn’t remember your life without her. Over the months you had met her friends and her brother Pietro, you loved being a part of Wanda’s life. She had also met your friends and family, everything just clicked perfectly.

You were walking around the grocery store when you saw Wanda’s name pop up on your screen. She was working today, so you hadn’t expected her call, but picked up after the second ring. “Hi baby.” You say as you pick up. “Hi love, I’m so sorry to ask you this, but I desperately need a favor.” You hear worry in her voice, “Of course, anything.” You assure her. “I just got a call from the boy’s school that they have both spiked a fever, and they need to be picked up. I can’t get away from work, I have a meeting with the big bosses today and they flew in for this meeting. After the fishing trip thing with Vision, I cannot ask him to pick them up and I was hoping that maybe you would be able to. I know it is a lot to ask.” - “Hey Wands, it’s not too much to ask, I’ve got you. Just text me the address of the school and I’ll be on my way.” You hear Wanda release a deep sigh, “Thank you so much, I’ll let the teacher know you’ll be picking them up and I’ll come right over when my meeting is done. I love you, thank you.” You smile at how much she cares for her sons. “I love you too, baby. I’ll keep you updated on the boys.”

You grab a few ingredients for chicken noodle soup, and kids medicine before heading to the register, forgetting the rest of your shopping. When you arrive at the school the boys are both looking pale sitting at the nurses station. You had planned to take them to their own house, but seeing as they were nauseous and the car ride wasn’t helping much in that department you decided to bring them to yours instead, since it was closer to the school. Once inside you led them to the guest room, you had them sit down on the bed so you could take their shoes off for them. “Mommy always gives us one of her really big shirts when we’re sick.” Tommy says with a shrill voice. “Do you have those too, y/n?” You set their shoes to the side. “Two big shirts coming up.” 

The shirts you grabbed turned out to be exactly what they meant. You helped them change since their bodies hurt too much to do it themselves. You tucked them in and said that you would be right back. In a couple of minutes you were by their side again with two cups of water and some of the medicine that you got. “Your mom said that this is the medicine you usually take at home. Here, this should make you feel better soon.” And handed each of them some. You also placed a cold washcloth on their foreheads since they were heating up again. “Okay, try to get some sleep, boys. I will be right outside if you need anything okay? And your mom will be here soon too.” 

You walked into the kitchen and texted Wanda an update on the boys and told her that you took them to your place. She was in her meeting but you knew that she would be worried about them and would check her phone the moment that she had time. After that you started on the soup so that it would be ready for when the boys woke up. 

About two hours after you tucked Billy and Tommy in you heard footsteps coming your way. “Hey guys, how are you feeling?” Neither one of them still felt nauseous, but they said that they still weren’t feeling great. You offered them some soup, they each took a few sips of the broth before saying that they were done with it. “That’s okay. Do you guys maybe want to watch a movie before your mom get’s back?” They picked out the movie that they wanted to watch and sat down on the couch on either side of you. Tommy leaned into your side so you wrapped your arm around his shoulder so he could comfortably lay against you. Billy saw his brother getting more comfortable and decided he wanted that too, so he laid down on the couch and put his head down on your lap. Your heart warmed at how comfortable the boys were with you and started the movie cuddled up with them.

You were so focussed on the movie that you missed the notifications on your phone, saying that Wanda was done with her meetings and was on her way to your place. She used the emergency key that you gave her, in case Billy and Tommy were still asleep. When she walked into the living room and saw the three of you cuddled up on the couch, all her worries left her body. On the way to your place her mind was racing, what if this was too big of a step too soon? What if the boys weren’t comfortable? What if you didn’t have the things that the boys usually wanted when they were sick? Seeing the three of you just peacefully watching a movie, and the boys were wearing some of your oversized t-shirts, she realized that the boys were comfortable with you and that you were with them as well. She walks up to the couch and kisses each of you on the forehead, as well as asking her kids how they are feeling. 

After a shower Wanda joins you in the kitchen, while the boys continue to watch the movie. “Thank you so much for today.” Wanda says as she walks up closer to you and places a kiss on her cheek. “Do you mind if they stay until the movie is done? I’ll take them home after.” - “I don’t mind them staying at all. You can all stay the night, if you want to of course. I know the boys had some good rest in the guest room earlier.” Wanda was okay with that too, she was actually quite happy that she could stay and rest after her long day. You joined the kids back on the couch and finished watching the movie cuddled up together.

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[soft-mafia]

Sore Throat[Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fem y/n, blowjobs, face-fucking, smut, nsfw, sick Buggy

a/n: just a short smut shot :3

When Buggy is sick, he acts like he’s on his deathbed. It doesn’t matter if it’s just the common flu, or a scratchy throat, or a mild headache, anyone would think he was suffering through a deadly illness.

“Y/n.” Buggy croaked out in a hoarse voice, “Lay down with me.”

Y/n sighed and laid next to him, snuggling against his chest. She had just given him an ice pack to lay over his forehead to help with his temperature, she gently patted his chest, “You’re gonna be fine, Buggy.” She said to him sweetly, “Mohjis taking over for the day until you start feeling better.” He was completely naked, the only thing covering up his manhood was the blankets, he hadn’t left the bed at all ever since he started showing signs of sickness. Well, except when he would detach parts of his body if he needed to grab something or use the bathroom.

Buggy gently held Y/n’s arm as she curled up with him, he sniffled loudly, then groaned as he tilted his head back, “I feel awful.” He grumbled. Y/n couldn’t help but giggle as she readjusted the ice pack on his forehead, “I’ll make you some soup later.”

“I don’t want soup.” Buggy frowned.

Y/n looked up at him, “What do you want then?” She stroked his jaw, grazing her fingertips against his stubble, “More ice?”

Buggy placed a hand to his chin, “Hmmm… No, no…” he thought out loud, then grinned, “I can think of one thing that can ease my nerves.” Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes and sit up on her elbows, leaning over his chest as she looked down at him.

“Buggy, we can’t have sex when you’re sick.” She stated, to which he growled, his neck detaching so his head could float upwards and he could look down at her without having to move his body from being sprawled out on the bed.

“WHY NOT?!” He shouted at her with a slightly nasally voice due to his nose being clogged. “Because you’re sick!!” Y/n grabbed his head and forced it back down on the pillow, squishing his cheeks together.

Buggy gripped her wrists, continuing to shout, “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I don’t have needs!!” He wiggled his head away from Y/n’s grasp, then whined at her, “How about you just suck me off? Just this once, I’ll be fine I promise!” The ice pack was starting to slump down from his forehead, however Y/n quickly laid his head back down and readjusted it, knowing if it fell he would start complaining even more.

“Ok.” She grumbled, “Fine.” With a sigh, she moved to lay in the space between his legs, tossing the blanket to the side to reveal his thick cock, which was already hard. Once it was uncovered it bobbed up, nearly hitting Y/n in the face. Buggy giggled softly when he saw that. She grasped his shaft in her hand and he let out a low grunt, laying his head back against the pillows. “Does this feel good?” She cooed to him, pumping his cock slowly, his pelvis twitched and he couldn’t help but buck his hips upwards just slightly.

He nodded, groaning as he looked back down at her. Y/n slowly took his tip in her mouth, licking her tongue over the slit before sliding her mouth down further and further until her nose was pressed up against that fluffy blue bush of his. Buggy’s hand instantly flew to the back of her head, making her gasp lightly as he began to move her head up and down. He let out rhythmic grunts, groans and other noises of pleasure, he spread his legs wider as he continued to make Y/n suck his cock, bringing her deeper and going faster until he was fully fucking her face.

He held either side of her face, gripping it firmly as he bucked his hips up in tandem with bringing her head down on him. Y/n’s soft gags and moans around his dick drove him crazy, giving him a burst energy. “See? I’m doing just fine.” Buggy laughed in between huffs of pleasure. Y/n whimpered on his cock as a response, looking up at him with fluttering, tearful eyes.

“Oh, what was that? Too much for you?” Buggy teased, a wicked grin on his face, he then pulled her face back, making her gasp once his cock popped out of her mouth. Y/n’s lips were flushed and slightly swollen, her mouth gaped as she caught her breath, continuing to look up at him with bedroom eyes, “B-Buggy…”

Buggy guided Y/n with his floating hands, “Lean back, baby.”

Again, Buggy was too lazy to get up and move, but he could easily maneuver Y/n anyway he wanted by detaching his body parts. He held her legs open after pulling her pants and panties off, his cock floated over to her entrance and the tip grazed against her clit. Y/n trembled, then leaned her head back and moaned, “Buggyy…” she mewled.

He grunted deeply when he thrusted his cock all the way inside, a deep growl leaving his throat as he began to plow rough into her, he kept her legs spread wide open, watching her from his place as if he was getting a front view show— which he technically was, but he was feeling everything.

“See? See, I’m sick and I’m fucking you just right!” He said in a hoarse voice through pants and grunts. He tilted his head back again, water rolling down his face from the ice that was slowly melting in the ice pack. Y/n moaned in response, makeup running down her face as her eyes rolled back. Seeing her fucked out expression made Buggy even more hard, his abdomen clenched, letting him know he was so close to an orgasm.

He panted heavily, beginning to tire out as his movements slowed, only slightly though as he was still keeping up a good pace. Y/n trembled around him as she came, moaning out his name in the way that always drove him crazy.

“Who’s your captain?” Buggy groaned, using a little bit more of his energy to speed up his cock again, “Who owns this pussy?!”

“Y-You!” Y/n groaned out, her entire body trembling, her upper half falling back on the bed as her arms could no longer keep herself up. She was panting and moaning heavily.

That had Buggy spilling over the edge, watching her laying back with him holding her legs up in the air, her pussy swallowing him whole— it sent a rush through his body that went straight to his cock, then splurted out inside of her. They both were breathing heavily.

Not too long after, Buggy was groaning, his hands falling down on the bed along with Y/n’s legs, letting them fall over his thighs. That splitting migraine came back again, and now his stomach was starting to hurt due to all of that pressure moments ago. “Oh crap, I don’t feel so good.”

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes, sitting up on her elbows, “Not so hot now huh? Told you so.” She sniffled, “Damn it I think you’re starting to get me sick now.”

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #my fic