#IVE GOTTEN SO TIRED SINCE I STARTED WRITING THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dangerkittenclaws · 4 months

Note

Are your requests still open? I’d love a fic where the (AFAB) reader is in a situation where she’s forced to share a bed with Vessel (maybe she’s a musician who’s touring with ST and the hotel is short on rooms? lol I know it’s super cliche) and in the middle of the night he wakes her up by initiating sex? 🥰

This was so fun to write, thank you!! And thank you for being my first request/ask, I'll never forget it! Sorry it took me a hot second to finish. To be honest, I feel I got a tad carried away but I hope I did our lean bean of a man justice! <3

vessel x f!band!reader

warnings: smut MDNI +18

You were waiting in the lobby of the hotel your tour agent had booked, spinning your luggage case lazily by its extended handle. The staff had been frantic as your large group entered the building.

IV was at the counter talking to the man who was clicking desperately at his computer. Something clearly was wrong with the reservation, but you were so tired that you really didn't care, you just wanted to slide into a cozy bed and sleep like the dead. It had been a long day, not including the show tonight and piling into a van afterwards.

Two of your best friends and bandmates, Alexis and Maggie were sitting on one of the lobby couches quietly showing memes to II. Vessel, III, and Liv, your bassist, were sitting on the bench right next to them. You all had gotten to know each other fairly well considering you inhabited a bus for numerous hours, watched each other practice, and went out to eat together.

You had noticed Vessel staring at times the past few weeks. You didn’t particularly mind the man was checking you out, it felt good to be wanted in a genuine way. You were not opposed to something new. You had become aware of him giving you glances that were a few seconds too long, a hand grazing just a little slower, him waiting for you so he could walk with you to wherever you were going.

And the teasing and bickering, god, it never ended. You didn't expect any different, being in close quarters with four boys and your three raunchy best friends, it was a constant war. You didn't quite know how to navigate these waters with Vessel though, it had been quite a while since your last boyfriend.

Your attention was brought back by IV walking back over to where you stood, a grimace on his face.

“Something happened to their booking system, they’re overbooked and we're going to have to share rooms until tomorrow.”

Some sort of seniority took over his voice, “Maggie, Alexis, Liv you can share the two-queen room, II, III, and I will share the other. That leaves you and Ves with the last king room”, he said pointing between you and Vessel.

Your eyes could’ve popped out of your head at that moment, but you schooled your expression hopefully before anyone noticed. You looked over to your bandmates and saw how Liv wanted to protest, but closed her mouth before she could say anything, knowing it was futile and everyone was too exhausted to care. It was nearing 3am and you were only spending two nights here before traveling again.

Vessel's eyes instantly shot towards yours, a small smirk forming on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest. Those lips.

“I guess it's you and me, then, love.” He gets up, standing to his full height before grabbing his duffel bag from beside him. The rest of the group rises and gathers their things, IV giving out key cards in silence.

You look at your girls, bidding them goodnight with a small wave and suddenly your hands are empty. Vessel had taken it upon himself to steal your suitcase and start walking towards the elevators.

Startled, Maggie giggles behind you at your expression. Breath leaves your mouth in a sort of sigh and laugh, and your tired legs begin to move in his direction. He is already in the elevator, keeping the door open for you.

“Damn your long legs.”

He turns to you once the doors shut, “I hope you have a little bit of energy left in you,”

You look at him confused, “What do you mean?” You know what kind of tone he has, a playful, flirtatious one that makes you blush.

“I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?” the doors open to the new floor and he darts out, immediately walking in long strides and searching for the correct door. You try to keep up, watching him try the key card on the fifth door down the hall and entering. You walk into the blackness of the room knowing he's just in front of you. He nearly giggles as he turns on the bedside lamp and watches your face scrunch up at the sudden light.

“You could at least warn a girl,” you yawn. Just as described, there is one large plushy looking king bed in the center of the room, a tv mounted to the wall, a little breakfast counter, and a door ajar on the other side, the bathroom.

Vessel drops both of your bags at the end of the bed, “Okay, me first, I need a shower.” he announces. You scoff and nod anyway, both of you taking out your pajamas and toiletries you'll need to set them aside.

Vessel puts his hand on your hip from behind you, the boldest move he’s made yet, “I’ll be quick” is all he whispers near your ear. The warmth of his hand lingers on you even though you hear the door shut. You finally breathe again, you had stood frozen for too long. Is this really happening?

You finally search out the TV remote, finding some mind-numbing home renovation show. You watch a few minutes, zoning out entirely, before the knob of the door twists and you turn your head. Your eyebrows raise at the sight before you.

He is a little damp, clothes in hand, the last few water droplets running down his lean torso, hair scruffy from the towel dry he did before wrapping it lowly around his waist. You almost drool before looking back up to his eyes.

“My eyes are up here, darlin,” he smirks. You feel your entire being light up red hot before you want to implode for getting caught staring at the very… enticing area that he is putting on display. It's not like he wears those pants for no reason at shows, it leaves little to your imagination and he knows it.

You jump up with your head down, grabbing your things and dipping into the bathroom without another word. You shower hot, needing an excuse to be as pink as you were with that fine man that you had been roomed with. Your pajamas were just an oversized Sleep Token shirt and a short pair of plaid shorts.

After scrubbing the day off of you, you change into your pajamas before your hand hesitates at the knob. You breathe out. We are just sleeping. We aren’t even anything yet. Why am I being so dramatic about this?

You summon all of your courage to open the door and look out to see Vessel in bed, scrolling his phone, the room only illuminated by the TV. You put your leftover toiletries and laundry on top of your bag before plugging in your phone and pulling back the covers on the other side.

Vessel looks over to you, “Come here, love”, opening his arms to you. You snuggle into his side and onto his chest, as his hand rubs up and down your back. You involuntarily let out a little sigh of relief, finally you can rest. You fall asleep like that, him holding you close and warm.

You wake up a few hours later, having turned to your side in your sleep, one of his still around your middle and the other under your neck.

You move slightly and become aware of something pressed against your ass. You immediately hold your breath.

You slowly breathe out, and try to inch yourself away. His arm tightens around you. Oh shit, he’s awake.

Like he reads your nervousness, he starts to kiss along the back of your neck to the side, underneath your ear. You shiver at his warm breath.

“Hmm, I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it with your ass backed up to me darling.” You smile and blush at his words, knowing the effect you have on him. He grinds a bit into you as his hand slowly moves towards the waistband of your shorts.

You realize your shirt had bunched up just below your tits just as his other hand reaches up and runs through your hair, long fingers pulling just enough for your head to move back. You turn to your back when he easily grazes over your clit and you clench your thighs together. Vessel gives you a little growl in your ear and your thighs cave open as quick as your resolve.

“I've wanted you for so long, sweet thing, and I've got you all to myself now.” His fingers move in slow, small circles over your clit and your hands go to his bicep, grabbing at him for more. You let out a small moan as you lose yourself in the feeling of warmth of both of his hands touching your body and the building starry sensation in your belly.

You reach down towards his stomach, caressing down, trying to burn the feeling of his skin into your mind before coming into contact with the curls of his hair. You hesitate slightly and he quickly attacks your lips, like he's reading your mind again.

You continue on to wrap your hands around his long, hard dick and begin tugging on it. He smiles against your neck and brings his other hand up under your shirt to massage your tit before pulling your nipple taut and thumbing over the hard bud forming. He does the same with the other while his fingers work their way into your wet cunt, one slender finger at a time.

You are getting impatient now, kissing his lips and neck, sucking his soft skin into your mouth to leave your mark. He lets out a whimper before seemingly regaining control of himself. Noted for future reference.

He slides down your body in a quick moment before licking up your slick cunt, making you nearly cry out. He tongues your entrance before making his way up to your clit and practically latches on. You claw at the bed sheets beneath you eventually finding his grown out hair to pull. You don't know if you want him to stop or if you want more, this is so much better than your own fingers. You buck up into his mouth and he locks his arm around your thighs to keep you from squirming away. That feeling in your stomach is burning.

He makes a few deliberate swipes of his tongue in succession over your clit and he watches that you come undone beneath him. Your eyes roll back, your hips tighten, and you gasp out his name. He keeps his tongue flat against you, tasting your cum before coming up to kiss you.

The moment you taste yourself on him is the moment you feel him press against your swollen pussy. You moan into the kiss, wanting more of him. He grabs himself to properly press his dick into you. He does it slowly, making sure you savor every inch.

“Please, please, Vessel, please”, you beg him.

“Please what, kitten?”, that slow devilish smirk comes back with a vengeance on his wet lips.

“Please fuck me, I need you to fuck me.” You mumble out, embarrassed but full of anticipation.

He thrusts into you fully, making both of you moan out curses. Ves sets a pretty quick pace but makes sure to hit the one spot inside you that makes your pussy tighten around him on every pass. He bottoms out, touching the beginning of your cervix and you see his eyes roll back.

“God, you are better than I ever imagined.'' He reaches his hand down between the both of you to play with your clit again. This time though, your orgasm is quick to approach with him inside of you. His fingers move swiftly as you grind yourself down onto his cock to meet his every thrust.

You are scratching down his back trying to find purchase with how full he makes you feel. Soon enough, the pool of white hot in your belly is overflowing again and he changes the angle just slightly, fucking you through your orgasm. You moan out knowing your pussy is clenching around his dick in a vice grip. Just as you cum around him, he settles deep within you and his fingers dig into your hips. His thick ropes of cum spill into you and he pulls out to leave your cunt messy.

You open your eyes half-lidded after a moment, trying to catch your breath, “Jesus, did you… did you plan that all along?!”

He smiles wide at you, “Which part, the room sharing or the me-getting-you-to-myself?”

“Either?”

“The rooms being short just happened to play into my favor, but I was plotting to get you alone this weekend, my sweet kitten.” He pecks your lips before moving to the bathroom to get a warm towel for you both.

You sigh out as you watch him, “I didn’t know what I was missing out on, really.”

You hear his sweet laugh as he comes back in, gently running the towel over your pussy, cleaning you up. You squirm a bit but are easily distracted by the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh. You let out a small yelp when you feel teeth graze and a quick nip before he pulls away.

He slides in next to you again, pulling you close, “If I have it my way, you’ll be mine forever.”

“I’d really like that,” you murmured against his chest. You feel him press his lips to the top of your head before you fall back into a satisfied dreamless sleep.

#dangerkittenclaws #sleep token #sleep token fanfic #vessel sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #vessel x reader

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afterhourswjay · 1 year

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HI JAY! Ive been sick for like a week now so it got me wondering... how would Thoma Ayato Itto and wanderer take care of the reader when they are sick? (SFW, HEADCANON) I NEED THE MALEWIFE OR DOTING PARTNER ENERGY 😞😞😞😞❤️❤️❤️

Howdy, Kichi!! That sounds like it sucks! I'm also really, REALLY, sorry for how late this is!! I haven't had the motivation to write as of late (・・；) I've also been kinda sick myself

Drown in soup, but not literally

the reader is sick, and requires bedrest to get better. how does their partner help them out??

characters: Thoma, Ayato, Itto, and Wanderer warnings:

Thoma

goes full nurse on you

when he hears that your not feeling well, he immediately ushers you off to bed. you don't need to worry about any of your obligations, as he'll make sure to take care of them to the best of his ability

if you're sick with the flu, then he's making sure that your keeping food and fluids down

if you got a simple head cold, then he's not nearly as worried which is saying a lot

he really loves you and doesn't like the fact that theres only so much he can do to help you feel better

he gets really scared if your unable to keep stuff in your stomach

i feel like you'd be pretty good friends with ayato and ayaka, so they'd be more than willing to contact some of the best doctors on your behalf for some of the best medicine they can afford

ngl, he's super worried about you

if he notices your uncomfortable, tired, or really anything other than rested and comfortable, he'll try his best to help you out

do you need more pillows or blankets? are you hungry or thirsty? are you bored, perhaps??

makes you the best meal when your finally feeling better

probably takes you out for an evening walk as well, since you haven't really been moving while sick

definitely hovers around you a lot more for about a week or 2 after you've recovered before he eases up

he knows that getting sick is just part of life, and that it happens to everyone, but that doesn't mean he won't still worry about you

Kamisato Ayato

ngl, i feel like his attention is already split between all his responsibilities that he doesn't notice you feeling unwell at first

once he does notice, however, than he's ushering you off to rest for the time being

he doesn't want to see you trying to do any work until your feeling well

you two have been living together as a way to make it easier for him to protect you from any attempts at people trying to kidnap you for ransom

has the staff bring you anything you may need on days where he's particularly busy

he's not the best cook, either, so he has his staff cook the best foods for someone whos feeling under the weather

spends any of his spare time in your room with you

some times he'll even bring his paperwork in with him so that he can spend time with you but also get some stuff done hint: hes too worried about you to work on his stuff

your condition worsens into the flu before you start getting better

by the time your feeling better, you've pretty much got a mountain of blankets and pillows on your bed

he asks you what you want to eat a day or so after confirming with a doctor that you are officially recovered

Arataki Itto

you were taking a couple days off from taking commissions from the adventurers guild, deciding to spend it with your boyfriend arataki itto

the two of you were running around the whole of inazuma, collecting lavender melons and catching onikabuto beetles

you and itto had gotten caught in a downpour, having to book it across the beach to some makeshift and rather run down huts

why the two of you chose to come to koseki village, you'll never know

but, after the downpour passes, you two head back to your waverider and then back to inazuma city

wet clothes forgotten about due to the rest of the arataki gang having gotten into a little trouble with the guards, you proceed to talk to them while kuki shinobu chews out everyone

eventually, like. close to sundown, your able to make your way to your home to change out of your still damp clothes

you catch a cold the day after, having full body shivers

with practically no word from you for a few days has the whole gang worried for your wellbeing, and they practically break into your home

when you wake up, all bleary eyed from sleep, your met with the group surrounding your bed

after explaining you just have the chills, and are fine for the most part, the most of them leave to go do what they do most days

however, itto sticks around, keeping you company

he does also apologize for the fact that you got caught in the rain a few days ago

you immediately tell him that he has nothing to be sorry about, unless he can control the weather and intentionally made it downpour on the two of you

you then get out of bed, giving him a hug, and then meander off to your kitchen, asking him to help you make some soup

Wanderer

whenever you start being sucked down by depression, you tend to push yourself to work harder

and, often times, this leads you to neglecting your own needs

he may not be the best boyfriend, what with having to sort through his past and his feelings, but he does try his best

he's also hella observant. while he may not comment on everything, hardly anything is able to get past him

so, he makes a mental note every time you add another commission onto your growing list of commissions

he starts to grow annoyed with you when, instead of stopping to take a break for lunch that, you decide to just eat lunch on the way to your next commission

you don't really know what you did to upset him, but kuni seems to start making what your brain interprets as snide comments towards you sometimes

it isn't until your body decides to rebel against you and you fall sick when you realize that he wasn't really making snide comments towards you, thats just how your tired brain interpreted it

he was trying to warn you about pushing yourself to do more than what your body could handle

kuni doesn't really let you do anything until your recovered from being sick

he puts you back on a proper schedule, making sure you get 3 meals a day, all easy on your stomach as to not make you feel worse than you likely already are

he also puts you on a proper sleep schedule, making sure you get between 8-10 hours of sleep a night

kuni's surprisingly nice while your sick. he knows how much more sensitive you are to his usual comments during times like these so he saves the lectures for when your back to feeling 100% better

its ok, tho. he's back to being mean, and more than makes up for it by basically dragging you all over sumeru and inazuma for ascension materials

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comfortjoonie · 11 months

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Hey, can you write one where Namjoon overworks himself and passes out and ends up in the hospital, and the members take care of him. Thank you.

hey guys sorry i've been gone so long! but I'm having more availability now! this was super fun to write! keep the requests coming guys!

Namjoon jolted awake as he heard his alarm go off. One hour of sleep. That was all he’d gotten, in between working on the lyrics for Jimin’s album, backing vocals for Seokjin’s song, and the new album for the whole band, and now, a group lunch. He stood up and pulled on his hoodie. He was so dizzy. He’d been working too hard to sleep, practicing dancing too much, writing lyrics day and night. His body ached and screamed for rest. But he wouldn’t give it. He had too much to do now.

He rushed out of the dorms as quickly as he could and called for a company car to the restaurant everyone was meeting at. As he got in the car, he was shaking. He could feel the driver’s eyes fixed on him as he eased himself into the seat and clamped the seatbelt over his lap. It was only a four minute drive, so he couldn’t sleep, but he could relax a little.

“Are you ok?” Namjoon heard the driver say to him softly halfway through the drive. Namjoon nodded.

“Fine. Just tired.” But he was out of breath. He was shaky and nauseous.

“Are you sure?”

“I just need to eat,” Namjoon replied, and the rest of the ride was silent.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Namjoon felt even weaker than before. He was still shaking, but he was also dizzy. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had eaten – he’d been so busy. It had been at least two days since he’d slept. He knew that.

He bowed and thanked the driver and shakily made his way into the restaurant. He bit his lip in worry when he didn’t see his members, but Jungkook making a quick call of his name guided him in the maknae’s direction.

Namjoon sat down slowly and smiled at his company. As much as he could, at least. He felt Jimin’s arm move around his back from the right and Hoseok’s hand go on his left thigh. The conversation with the rest of the members continued, but Jimin whispered into Namjoon’s ear with Hoseok listening.

“What’s wrong, hyung?”

Namjoon swallowed. “Nothing,” he whispered back.

Hoseok bit his lip. “You look terrible, Joon,” he said softly.

It irritated Namjoon in his sleeplessness, and he somewhat shoved both Jimin and Hoseok’s hands off of him. “Leave me alone,” he grumbled. He could feel Hoseok and Jimin both looking at him silently. He didn’t say anything. But all eyes at the table were turned to him now.

“What’s wrong, guys?” Seokjin asked.

“Nothing,” Namjoon said again, more forcefully this time. But he was feeling worse. He felt like he was running out of breath. He needed to get water before he passed out. He stood up, barely keeping his weight up. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said.

Jimin stood up. “I have to go, too,” he said.

Namjoon just started walking away. But before he could get more than a few feet away from the table, his breath caught and he collapsed.

—

“Shit! Namjoon-ah!” Seokjin called out when Namjoon fell to the floor. Everyone stood up and rushed over to him. “Jimin-ah, call the ambulance.”

“What happened?” Yoongi asked, rushing over and squatting next to Namjoon.

Seokjin shook his shoulder gently. “Namjoon, wake up,” he whispered. “Namjoonie.”

Namjoon didn’t move an inch.

“The ambulance is on the way, hyung,” Jimin said.

“He’s so pale..” Yoongi observed. “Is he sick?”

Hoseok shook his head. “I don’t think so. He didn’t feel warm or anything.”

“This is really bad,” Jungkook said softly.

“He’ll be fine, Jungkook-ah,” Jin said. “He’ll wake up soon.”

—

When Namjoon woke up, he was at the hospital with an IV in his arm. His head hurt when he opened his eyes. He let out a small groan of pain when the bright lights hit him, and everyone looked at him.

“Hey, Joonie, you’re awake,” Seokjin smiled at him.

“You scared us to death,” Yoongi frowned and put his hand on Namjoon’s.

“What…happened?”

“You just fainted, Joonah,” Taehyung said. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

Namjoon winced. “At least two days…”

“Namjoon, you need rest,” Seokjin said, pushing the hair off Namjoon’s forehead and frowning.

“I’ve just been so–” “--busy? Namjoon, you need time for yourself too, though,” Hoseok said.

Namjoon felt tears squeezing at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“It’s ok, Joonie. We already called manager-nim to tell him you’re out for the rest of the week.”

“Week? But–”

“No buts. You need rest,” Hoseok smiled a little.

“When can I go home?”

“They want you here for another hour or so, just to keep you on the IV. You’ve been stressed too, they think. Your blood sugar is really low.”

“I…haven’t eaten in a while.” Namjoon admitted.

“That’s ok, Joon,” Seokjin reassured him. “They’ll keep you on these fluids for now. Just get some rest, ok?”

Namjoon nodded. “I can do that.”

#sick!namjoon #bts #sickfic #caretaker!hoseok #caretaker!jimin #caretaker!jungkook #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!taehyung #caretaker!yoongi #btssickfic

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multifandumbmeg · 12 days

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Random update per my fics:

Sorry I haven't updated in the last few days. I usually try to write some every day, but I took a day off to plan Golden Glint and then finished the mini fic (Reckoning of Mike Carrera) I started before it because that's what I wanted to write and I wanted to finish it.

On the topic of all my in-progress fics, my writing just isn't consistent right now. I mentioned a while ago that I'm going through AO3 author's curse and would eventually expand on that, so since I'm extremely frustrated and paralyzed from being productive today I'll do that now.

Starting from winter/late fall of 2022 I got sick and basically never got better. I was having illness after illness that meds weren't solving, and my headaches just got more and more frequent until they were every day for at least three months. By the time I came home from Korea, I was having full-blown debilitating migraines every day and attacks where I would almost pass out and couldn't breathe. It took me a couple months but I got on insurance, started a new job, and managed to convince my parents to let me focus on getting my health together this year.

It's been extremely difficult and frustrating because US healthcare, but I found out I do not in fact have ANY allergies despite doctors telling me I do, literally putting me on allergy shots for a year, and telling me that was the cause of migraines, inability to breathe, and constant illness, none of which were true. I had to prove this to them by fighting to see an actual allergist and getting re-tested which costs me hundreds of dollars out of pocket, but at least the allergist was a good dude who wrote a SCATHING letter to my primary care demanding I be sent to the proper specialists for my symptoms. Several blood tests and medications later, we have whammy number two:

The hypoglycemia I was diagnosed with as a teenager was not in fact random. Instead, I have hyperthyroidism caused by Graves Disease. Except I ALSO have Hashimoto's Disease, because I am just so special like that. Basically, rather than allergies like I was always told, I have been getting every single sickness that rolled by for the past several decades and because I was so used to being sick and so criminally gaslit about it, I didn't even know I was ill and just kept going. Thyroid also has tumors on it. I may also have other autoimmune disorders, or thyroid cancer, but I won't know until I finally see an endocrinologist an hour away later this month.

Though my daily migraines stopped last summer, I still get frequent headaches and now extremely bad ones (or migraines) every time it rains. Generally, there seems to be some kind of inflammation issue where my body over-reacts to literally everything by swelling up and causing more problems.

Possibly tied to that, I was in pain every single day at work. Considering my age, there is no normal reason I should be crippled by joint pain but that is yet to be solved. I now only work two days a week, which has helped significantly, but I am still consistently in a ton of pain two days a week, sometimes three as a rebound.

In January, before I had gotten any diagnoses, my parents gave me an ultimatum that they were kicking me out in May. I had to beg them to go part-time because I simply could not keep up with job applications while I was so constantly tired and pain. After sobbing for two straight days about the inevitability of becoming homeless because I can't afford to or logistically live on my own, my mom convinced my dad to let me go part time on the condition that I continue to pay the same rent Ive been paying to live in one of their empty spare rooms.

In February, I went in for the first appointment toward getting an Autism screening. The therapist suggested I get an ADHD test and recommended me for the official autism screening, saying I have a solid case for suspecting. After a little computer game and another talking appointment, slightly to my own surprise (especially because of how easy it was) I was clinically diagnosed with ADHD. I recently started meds for that and it has made basic tasks and job applications infinitely easier to the extent it's insane, plus my final Autism screening is next week and based on my results every step of the process so far diagnosis seems likely.

All that said, the job search process has been soul-destroyingly frustrating. I have a masters degree in a specialized field, backed up by a Bachelor's in a relevant field, years of study abroad and work abroad (which is relevant to my career path) and a track record of excellent academic achievement. I also speak French and Korean near-fluently and am conversational in Romanian and Russian, as well as knowing a fair few phrases in a number of other languages. Every job I've had has stressed me out to the point of quitting by around a year (hello Autism), but also none were related to what I studied at all, highly customer service oriented, and still every one would tell you I was one of the best employees they ever had and begged me to stay. Even with this track record, after literally HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS of applications (which in my field almost always require a cover letter, often questionnaires and lengthy short answers, or even writing samples in addition) I have had ONE interview in four years. ONE. And I was so heinously underqualified for that hail-Mary I'm 99% certain they only interviewed me to meet a quota. As you can imagine, for someone with highly probable AuDHD, doing the same thing over and over for 4 years with a 100% failure rate is enough to make me want to dive into a lake with a pile of bricks chained to my back.

I'm still months out from seeing a neurologist about my headaches and general constant pain, I don't have a plan of action for my buck-wild medical anomaly thyroid, and I don't know if my parents are kicking me out next month. They haven't brought it up so maybe with my recent headway on the Peace Corps application (was told I stand a very good chance, but that's another contract job overseas, further pushing back my ability to find a stable, long term career job) and slew of diagnoses and medications, my dad is cooling off a bit. I don't know.

All that to say my body is crumbling out from under me, my job is stressful, and despite being extremely qualified and putting in so much effort, I have zero long-term life prospects. Sometimes, that results in me diving whole-hog into writing for fun and as an outlet, other times I'm too tired or need to bury myself in mindless content consumption or days of spending every spare moment staring at my ceiling in silence until I maybe fall asleep. Did I also mention the crippling lifelong insomnia which my ADHD meds (along with rapid weight loss I'm desperately trying to curb because I'm already borderline underweight due to my thyroid) are exacerbating?

Anywyay. Point is I'm very tired and stressed so my writing is going to be much less consistent than in the past. Hope you understand. Also just an update for my online friends. TMI but I needed to rant and put it out there for those wondering to lower expectations.

#Sorry #You can leave now

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just-before-dawn · 1 year

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just a lil small statement from me :)

i know that the zine and the people involved has caused uproar within the fandom. i wanted to ignore it as best as i could, but because of me wanting to live my life in peace (as i already have enough on my plate), some people call it me being naive and idiotic.

im going to say this again (as i have done so many times already but people keep needing to be reminded), my zine is on a neutral standpoint. if people think of it in a certain "discourse" position, then please change your thinking. im so tired of having to overexplain and defend the entire purpose of this zine constantly, again and again. some people still don't understand.

ive been involved with this fandom since december 2022 when i made my first post. i decided to make this zine because there was nothing else out there and i thought it would be fun. i have experience in outsourcing and finding manufacturers, i also know the process and the ins and outs of being in a zine. that's why i decided to make one for this fandom. dont let this zine be the ONLY zine in this fandom, i myself plan to make more after this one (coughcoughtuggoffeleeszinecough) and if someone else wants to start one, please do!

i truly love this goddamn musical about singing and dancing cats. this zine is for the purpose of celebrating this musical through art and writing. this musical has had a horrible reputation amongst society, why not turn that around?

in my own words and actions, i chose the people in this zine based off of what they have submitted in their applications, both moderators and contributors. i dont have time to do a deep dive internet check to see what problems a person has caused in a fandom. i work two jobs, im currently also packing 300 kickstarter orders, and im running this zine at the same time. i honestly do not have time to look into the drama that happened in this fandom unless if someone brings it up to me personally and they give me proof. i have explained myself time and time again that i do not absolutely give a single fuck about what side a person stands on. i do not care what a person enjoys or likes on the internet, i have my own business to attend to and other people have theirs.

if im so busy, why am i running this? because i want to and it gives me joy knowing that something great is coming into fruition!

please note that ive gotten anon hate from both a "proshipper" and an "anti", if that doesn't already explain the true neutrality of me and my zine, i dont know what does. im sorry that the results of who was picked and chosen for this zine gave out the supposed wrong reputation. im sorry that i didnt work hard enough to spend time (that i dont have) to do an fbi check on everyone to find out that they've done a certain action in this fandom. i cant make anyone happy with how this zine goes, i can only do so much. i had no idea that fandom discourse was going to be the main problem with running the zine. i thought it would be something bigger like finance. but this discourse does not define the zine.

im so tired of reading things said behind my back, assuming things about me, without actually confronting me about it. my dms are always open for anyone to talk to me about things. my asks are always open too.

the zine and myself have zero people blocked because i dont have time for that. guest contributors were chosen because multiple people requested them, moderators were chosen by me without any bias because i liked what i saw in their applications, contributors were chosen by all of us mods (there are FIVE of us, nothing more) as a collective group. my process with choosing was specifically on work, i dont choose people by bias. im not that kind of person. i also have already talked to my mods about interacting with the apparent discourse surrounding this zine. they will not interact with any posts outside of the people involved. any actions they have made already are not condoned by me and i couldnt say something about it earlier because i was at work.

so please, if a person has a problem with me and my zine, confront ME about. do not bother anyone else.

again, if my zine happened to make someone assume that its "proship" or "anti", then please think twice. this zine is a celebration of this musical and fan content. i dont fucking have a stance. stop assuming shit about me behind my back, im so tired of having to explain this to people. the people involved might and i have no clue because yet again, i dont do fucking deep dives on people unless if someone actually mentions and brings it up to me. but just because i choose to enjoy my time in a fandom without any drama doesnt make me naive and stupid.

it is a person's decision whether or not they want to support this zine. but please do not spread hate. tell me about it and i will take action. thank you.

again, my dms and asks are open. i have zero people blocked on here and the zine's acc. i cannot say the same for anyone else involved. the zine's acc on tumblr and insta are only run by me, nobody else.

#im sorry about this again #i literally hate talking about this but it had to be said #because im tired of it truthfully #idk whos gonna read it but please take my words into consideration

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illdesigns · 1 year

Note

hii! i hope ur doing well! idk if u have gotten other asks ive sent or not but i was wondering where u went… u havent really posted writing or even fandom stuff period lol

i just want to clarify that this is like…the fourth or fifth message i have gotten, seemingly from the same anon due to typing styles and general content. i’ve been steadfastly ignoring them for a bit because it’s no skin off my nose but i’m honestly tired. so i’m sorry if i come off as unnecessarily mean during this but i cannot overstate the fact i’ve been ignoring this for a while.

i’m still blogging. i haven’t left or gone anywhere. yeah, i haven’t really posted writing, because i’ve been busy. because i’m a grown adult who does other things in my life. and i have posted fandom stuff - i am not immune to gifsets, fanart and jokes about media i like. but i am deciding to cease participating in fandom spaces because it’s not really for me any more. i want to focus more on my original writing and am not in a point where i can give a hobby and something i want to turn into a career the same level of attention.

and i know this anon probably means a Certain Fandom, as i’ve only been active in one the past few years. i’ve not felt the need to make some big announcement of a fandom flounce at my big age but i also don’t feel as if i have any particular place i fit in in the metalocalypse fandom any more. i’m glad for the great friends i made during my time participating in that, and i also met my current partner through the fandom and that’s given me a lot of nice opportunities in life too. so yay me.

however, if i may allow myself a certain degree of flounce since i’ve been pestered into sharing this information by somebody who seems to have had a bi-weekly alarm on their phone about sending me passive aggressive anons: i’m not particularly keen on a fandom space that, outside of an immediate circle of friends, has been an absolute minefield of social interaction. between watching drama and outright harassment my friends have dealt with and the issues i have faced myself (harassment to the point of changing certain social media accounts, having my locked twitter account put on blast by somebody upset i blocked people not in my immediate social circle so i wouldn’t deal with awkward follow requests, somebody in my dms threatening suicide over his traced ship art for months at a time, getting vagued constantly and associated with actual abusive people and/or practices because i liked a character with four minutes of screentime AND OTHER INCIDENTS)…i realized that was a lot of emotions for a cartoon. especially a cartoon ive liked for a long time, since it started airing, and it’s a cartoon i would like to continue liking.

so i honestly don’t know what else this anon would want from me. i’ve already lost a few followers from my drop in fandom related activity, which i’m fine with, so if another person or multiple people would like to unfollow after this that’s fine too! it’s just tumblr, babes! curate your dash as you see fit! just don’t randomly pester people about a lack of content that was barely supported when it was being made, by a person who was constantly getting shit on by randoms because of said content while posting it :)

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deanscherrypie69 · 2 years

Note

hi, check this post to try and solve the problem with your tags. i’m sorry tumblr is being shitty. now i hope you don’t take offense, bc i’m gonna give a few tips and constructive criticism to help you out, from a writer to another.

there’s a lot of us writers here, a hundred is not a stretch. it only makes sense that there are many well-known and favorite writers, so sometimes readers don’t check tags everyday. not to mention that tumblr’s tagging system is shit. since you’ve only started writing recently, it will take some time for your notes and activity to grow. i know it’s discouraging, but everyone goes through this phase, so all we can really do is persevere and wait.

sometimes it also depends on the trends/fan favorites, on which character is being talked about/thirsted on the most right now. in our case it’s currently Ari (due to the recent photos) and Lloyd (because of TGM). you don’t have to follow the trends of course, you can write for anyone you want, but it’s a factor that affects the notes. Andy is still one of the fan favorites though, so don’t worry, readers will come around.

as for writing, it’s better to post when you have the fic finished. oneshot sneak peeks don’t get good notes in general, and readers are likely to forget them. i also suggest having someone beta for you, or if you don’t want to (which is okay), you can use grammar checkers. make sure to not skip over scenes no matter how long they take to write so the fic won’t seem rushed. you can try being more descriptive of what they’re doing, what they’re feeling, the atmosphere and environment, expound more on the background story… sometimes they’re more important than dialogue and character thoughts. don’t just tell readers what your characters are doing, show them. you know the kinds of stories that you can see and imagine so clearly in your head? that’s our goal. it’s not easy, it’s tiring and writing makes you double-think especially when you’re not getting the feedback you want, but it will come, and it will be worth it.

i hope i did not offend you, i just wanted to help you out because i was like you when i started writing too. above all, you have potential, so believe in yourself :)

Ty sm much for this. I’ll try to figure it out, I’m not entirely. New to tumblr and writing. I’ve been doing it a while so I know how tumblr works. (Wow that sounds mean, it’s not tho I promise)

BUT! I’ve never had this problem AS many times as I have. It’s so discouraging. And I hate it. Idk what else to do. I’ve done tags. I’ve looked at tags that no ones has used, Ive did all that… a lot of ppl use the tags. So I don’t know honestly. Which ones to use and not to use…

As for the sneak peeks. I’ve seen a lot of writers do it before and get 200+ notes… so I thought it would be cool because I was Proud of what I wrote.

And as for a beta reader. I don’t have anyone. I’ve always read my own work. It sucks yea. Because I feel like no one ever wants to proof read my work… so I just post it without a beta reader.

As for fan favorites. I’ve always written for lloyd. Andy and, Ari. I have two new Andy series in the works and a hundred oneshots in drafts in multiple apps.

Imma vent really quick:

I’ve been writing for YEARS and I’ve never ever gotten the feedback I wanted. So having this void of where ppl cannot see my work. Suck. I mean I should be used to it now? You know what I mean?

So. It doesn’t entirely suck. Maybe it’s for a reason. Idk

I’m just really hurt buy all of this..

So if this whole message is scrambled. It’s 3am.

But Ty for the sweet message. Ily🫶🏽

#anon #roise responds #asks

0 notes

ellrond · 7 years

Note

Fave Thomas headcanons, pls.

sorry for the late reply!! this has been in my inbox for like a week but i wanted to give it the attention it deserves!!

also i dont know if you’re asking for fandom headcanons that ive noticed or my own, but seeing as how i havent seen that many (none actually really spring to mind if im honest) this will just be an incomplete list of my own thomas headcanons unless otherwise stated

(disclaimer: of course it’s very difficult to have an original thought these days, and if you’ve seen these headcanons anywhere else, know i’m not trying to pass someone else’s idea off as my own, it just so happens that i have come to a certain conclusion that another person has, without me even seeing their posts. two people can have the same ideas without ever having any sort of interaction or seeing their posts alright alright glad we got that sorted)

fandom headcanons that r great and i fully endorse

thomas is gay. he absolutely adores miranda and they share a sex life (whether that be through group sex, mutual masturbation, or straight up one on one sexual activity) but he is a homosexual man

thomas is a top. this one the fandom seems to be agreed on. bottom thomas?? i dont know her

he doesnt like wearing his wig much it is itchy

my own headcanons

during elections he cast his votes for the Whigs rather than the Tories and should he have ever stood for office in the lower house would have done so as a Whig (the less right-wing of the two political parties during this period of British history) but believed party politics were dangerous and detrimental to the greater good of the country. He saw the dangers of the laizze-faire attitude the Whigs had and their sometimes aggressive anti-Catholicism disturbed him although sometimes the way he has been raised means he lets anti-Catholicism come into his line of thinking (as seen when things get heated with him and pops). That being said, he was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a royalist and had Tory tenancies (I think it’s safe to assume there was little love in Alfred Hamilton for liberalism, and I’m sure Thomas was raised a Tory) in that regard. Thomas was born very close to the time of the Glorious Revolution and with his family being an old aristocratic one, conservatism, in one form or another, would have been in his very bones.

tl;dr ^^ he’s a liberal who dislikes party politics and subscribes to ideologies from both sides of parliament

he’s a genuine believer in God and in Christ. He knows his scripture (he must be quoting the bible more than hes saying his own original thoughts in the show probably gfgdgfd) and Christ is important to him. He bases his life around Christ’s teachings - that’s why he’s so kind and so concerned with forgiveness and redemption and hope. He rejects the violence and hatred found in other parts of the Bible and has a great love for the gospels instead and finds his strength in Christ’s words about love and kindness and charity and forgiveness. He believes that to be a good Christian one must above all else be kind. He also highly values the lesson of the Good Samaritan (surprise surprise said no one ever) and reminds himself daily to never judge someone else for the life choices and decisions.

his mother was just as bad as his father. I’ve seen people suggest that thomas’ mother must have been an angel to balance out the devil of alfred for thomas to have turned out so good and im calling bullshit. someone with two mean-spirited and cruel parents can absolutely be wonderful people, and in thomas’ case i believe it was the distance of his parents and their disdain and judgement of the world and unkindness that made thomas quite the opposite. he saw the mistakes they were making and learned from them.

we know he went to eton. he deffo started kissing boys at the age of 13 or 14. he’s been a heartbreaker since teenagehood.

he’s around 30-35 when we see him in 1705 (less a headcanon and more a lazy estimation similar to ones hundreds of other people have made)

he enjoys sex a lot. he’s had a number of sexual partners most of whom were of the same social standing as he and he’s been in love before he meets james. he’s never loved anyone like james though. he believes james is his soulmate

he is caught between thoroughly enjoying high society life with all of its frills - the fashion, the music, the art, the luxurious houses and exuberant interiors - and feeling guilty about being so rich whilst others have so little in comparison. he’s not perfect, and so he lets himself enjoy the glamour of aristocratic europe without trying to give it too much thought.

it’s canon he’s a Big Thinker and was homies with other Big Thinkers (he probs fucked half of the enlightenment giants but thats for anotehr time) and I Think he’d spend a lot of time Thinking about Big Things you know like ??? would educating the masses be a good thing?? child labour, huh whats that all about is that worth it?? why are some people entitled to more simply because of who they were born as? and what even IS class? and other big questions politics and sociology and criminology and philosophy and economics and history students spend £9k a year thinking about lmao (tag urself im tragic politics student still cryin over the overlooked work engles did for yrs n yrs oh fred you was done so bad i lovE YOU)

crazy horny boy have james wear a butt plug during dinners with alfred lmao oh tomhas you wild thing

#thomas hamilton #ellie writes #IVE GOTTEN SO TIRED SINCE I STARTED WRITING THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry #i love asks like this i love you #black sails //////#sex cw ///#nswf cw //////#Anonymous #ask

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formulawonu · 3 years

Text

at last / daniel ricciardo

(not my gif! credits to the owner <3)

finale to these two pieces: one & two

warnings: just kinda sweet and soft all over. i cant

summary: from summer fling to maybe a forever thing. you will always find your way back to what's meant for you?!?!?!?!??! ft. daniel ricciardo

a/n: THIS MADE ME SO ,,HSUEHFIUHE TO WRITE!!! when will i ever. honestly. daniel ricciardo makes me so mushy gushy inside i honestly wish him all the best & happiness in this world. hope you all enjoy this last piece <3 i didn't get to proofread this and ive just realized IDK HOW TO REALLY WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS??? SO idk if this is how i really wanted it to end but i tried lol AND FOR EVERYONE WHO LEFT REQUESTS IM WORKING ON IT IM SO SORRY ITS TAKING FOREVER help hahaha enjoy!!!! <3 x

7:35AM

Please tell me you’re going to be at Spain next weekend. It’s a raaace weeeeekend!

You blink a couple of times at your phone, registering the content of the text message that has been sent two hours ago. Today, you are at London. Next weekend? You’d be willing to be anywhere he wanted you to be. You type out a quick reply.

9:48AM

Depends on who’s asking?

This is how you have been talking to Daniel (along with the occasional video call here and there) ever since you had bumped into each other in Italy. He had kept his side of his informal promise from the morning you had woken up to catch your flight to Norway — he had texted you right before you boarded your flight and since then you two had been talking whenever you could.

9:49AM

I’m asking!

9:49AM

Hm. I’ll have to think about it then.

You’re still trying to wake yourself up, having gotten used to waking up to messages from Daniel asking the silliest things to the more serious ones. The past race weekends you hadn’t been able to watch, despite Daniel asking you to, because you had always been busy with your job or other commitments. However, next weekend was free for you. Your phone ringing snaps you out of your slight morning daze.

“Playing hard to get so early in the morning?” The familiar Australian accent greets. He can’t see you, but your smile has made its way onto your face thanks to the voice on the other end of the line. “Just to keep you on your toes, Daniel.” You retort. “Good morning to you too.” He greets in reply.

It was the little things like this that made you appreciate Daniel’s newly established presence in your life, despite the distance that separated the two of you. He always made it a point to find his way into your otherwise normal days. Whether it be a quick picture of something that reminded you of him or a call at the end of a tiring day, he always tried to connect with you. You treasured each moment you had with him because you fully understood how busy his career made him.

“So Spain, huh? Back to where it all started. Kinda cliché, I like it.” You ask, thinking of where you had first met Daniel. “Yes! A hundred times, yes. I’d fly you out as early as possible since you seem to have a thing for early flights.” He teases. “Might just pick a later flight to rile you up.” You reply. Daniel laughs. “I think you would actually do that. Might have to pick you up myself.” “Desperate to see me?” You joke. “Desperate to have you beside me.” Daniel replies. You’re caught speechless for a few moments, not used to the seriousness that came with what Daniel had just last said. “You-“ “Oh, you’re blushing, aren’t you?” “I am not!” You say, knowing full well you’ve just lied and Daniel clearly knows this as well. “Okay, whatever you say. So, Spain? Yes? Yes? Yes? The only correct answer is yes.” You take a moment to answer, loving the feeling of knowing that he wants to see you just as much as you want to see him.

“Yes.” You finally reply.

“Well then, I’m counting the days until I see you again.”

“That is too cheesy.”

“You love it.”

Time moves so quickly you can barely register that it is Tuesday night of the next week already. Daniel had asked you to fly out Wednesday morning so you could both spend some time together before he got swallowed up by the demands of a race weekend. Thursday was media day for him then Friday until Sunday were obviously the more important parts of the hectic schedule he had. You worried a lot about how crazy it seemed to be traveling alone just to see a guy that admittedly meant more to you than you would like to admit, but everything about your story with Daniel felt insane and nearly impossible. More than the uncertainty that came with jumping into something you had no prior experience with, you were excited. Just like that last night on your little island almost a year ago, you would go anywhere with Daniel Ricciardo. Anything felt possible with him.

You couldn’t sleep at all during your flight to Spain. The reality of flying to see Daniel race suddenly felt so real to you and you couldn’t, for the life of you, think about how you were going to act when you finally saw him again. Would you hug him? Would you just wave and say ‘hello’? Daniel had told you he was going to arrange for someone to come pick you up at the airport so that calmed you down a bit, knowing that you would have more time to think about what you were going to do before you actually saw him. Baggage claim didn’t take too long since you had only brought a single suitcase and then you were off to look for whoever it was that Daniel had sent for you.

You burst out laughing the moment you see the sign. There, standing for all of the arriving passengers to see, was Michael at the exit of the airport. “For the girl who came out to watch Daniel Ricciardo race.” The sign reads.

Your cheeks are flushed and you almost want to pretend to not know who he is, but Michael says, “Y/N! Over here!” You groan and make your way towards him. “Really?” You ask, laughing. He pulls you into a hug. “Daniel said I would be fired if I didn’t hold it up.” He jokes. “Wouldn’t be surprised.” You both make your way across the road, presumably to the car you’re both taking to the hotel. You make easy conversation with Michael, asking him how he’s been and catching up on random bits of information on what he’s been doing when suddenly your breath catches in your throat.

There, leaning on a sports car, is the man you would have travelled to anywhere for. He is in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, with his arms crossed by his chest. His curls are being moved about by the Spain wind and the crinkles by his eyes are at full force. He is smiling at no one else but you. He looks absolutely wonderful.

You don’t realize that you’ve stopped listening to what Michael has been saying because you’re smiling at no one else but Daniel too. There is barely anyone paying attention to the scene that is unfolding or maybe you just don’t notice them too, but in this moment, all you can really focus on is the man just a couple of feet away from you. “He wanted to come surprise you.” You hear Michael say. Daniel pushes himself off the car, opening his arms for you to jump into. Your steps quicken, dragging your suitcase with you. You end up letting go of your suitcase when you’re near enough to throw yourself into Daniel’s arms, wrapping your own around him. He smells just as good as he did from the last time you found yourself in his arms and he is just as snug as you remember him to be. Once again, it feels as though you both have been made to fit each other perfectly.

“Hi.” He whispers into your hair, breathing in your presence too.

“Hi.” You whisper back.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t come sooner.”

You pull away from the hug, just wanting to take in the man standing in front of you. You still don’t understand how life could turn out this way — that you could be so fortunate enough to have crossed paths with someone like Daniel. You can’t comprehend that you’ve waited so long to come back to him. You turn to Michael, who is standing behind you both. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was here!” You say, laughing. You take note of how one of Daniel’s arms remain wrapped around your waist, almost as if he is making sure you aren’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t. Not for anything. “Again, he would fire me if I did so.” The three of you burst out laughing. “But I’ve done my job. I’m off!” Michael adds. You cock your head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, I’ve actually just played the part of a decoy. I have some business to attend to near this area so I came along to say hi.” “Fair enough. It was great seeing you, Michael. I’m happy to say I’ll probably be seeing you again later.” Michael laughs at what you’ve just said, probably realizing this time you aren’t leaving so quickly. “I’ll see you then.”

“You’re staring, doll.” Daniel teases as he drives through the streets of Spain. You shake your head, still taking him in. You take a mental note of the nickname he’s just called you, your heart fluttering at the sweetness of it. One hand is on the steering wheel, the other is holding your hand. He gives your hand a quick squeeze. “I still can’t believe we’ve made our way back here.” You offer, not quite knowing how to put your feelings into apt words. “Good thing?” He asks, quickly glancing at you then back at the road. “Great thing. I feel happy.” “I do too. You have no idea.”

Daniel drives you both into the less crowded entrance of the hotel you are both staying at to evade a lengthy trip into the lobby. You check in with the receptionist, who is eyeing Daniel most of the time. More than it bothering you, it pleases you even more that he doesn’t seem to notice because he is too busy discreetly drawing circles into your lower back. It seems that neither of the two of you would like to be separated any more than you need to be (quite literally). The tension building between the two of you is almost suffocating and if Daniel not being able to keep his hands off of you wasn’t enough of an indication of that, you can’t seem to get your mind off of the unforgettable nights you had with him back in Spain. The moment you are in the elevator, which you luckily have to just the two of you, he pulls you into his back, his arms wrapping around your waist. Your back is pressed flush against his body, feeling all of him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you left me on our island.” He whispers into your ear before his lips come in contact with your cheek. You smile against the feeling of his lips on you once again. This is different from your brief encounter in Italy, it feels more intense and urgent. If anything, the two of you meeting in Italy, paired with the conversations that ensued afterwards, were building up to what was happening now. “I’ve missed you so much,” Daniel continues, moving down from your cheek to your jaw. “I’ve missed you too.” You whisper, almost as if you don’t want anyone else to hear what you two are saying. This moment is between the two of you only. “I’m so happy you are here.” He finishes, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. You are about to give in and you are just about to turn around to finally kiss him after all these months, but suddenly the elevator opens and you are on your floor. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek. “I am happy I am here too.”

You both enter your hotel room, your suitcase already placed near the complimentary closet by the bellhop before you had arrived. You survey your room, familiarizing yourself with where everything is and Daniel has immediately made himself at home on your bed. The sight of him, laying down in your bed as if it is second nature, makes your heart skip a beat because you so desperately wish this was something that you could have for a long time coming. “Excuse me, I don’t recall inviting you to my bed.” You tease, leaning on the wall to watch him. He looks at you then pats the space beside him. “Just wanted to make sure it was in tiptop condition. Feels great, if I do say so myself.” You make your way to the bed, throwing yourself onto the space beside him. Daniel wasn’t lying, the bed felt absolutely great. Your head sinks into the pillows and you close your eyes for a while, finally feeling like you can relax. Right now, in this moment, everything feels like it has fallen into place.

“What are you thinking?” Daniel asks, his voice finally coming from right beside you and not from over the phone. You both are lying down on your bed, simply enjoying each other’s presence in comfortable silence. You open your eyes and glance to your side, he is already looking at you. “Can’t seem to think with you staring at me, actually.” You tease. “It’s payback for the car ride. I could barely drive with you watching me.” “Once a stalker, always a stalker.” Daniel chuckles, his hand coming up to brush away hair that has fallen over your face.

“You came back.” He says, looking into your eyes. Suddenly, it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room and you are enveloped in a moment in time that consists of just you and Daniel. “I keep my promises. You came back too.” You reply, noticing how Daniel’s eyes are able to express much of his emotions without him needing to say anything. You wonder if he can read yours just as well. “It was difficult not to.” He confesses. “Even more so for me.” You say back.

“Then maybe we should both just stay and make life easier.” He says after a while, his smile making his way onto his face once more. You know he is not just talking about this weekend, he is talking about something more. Something more intimate — something you want just as much as he does. “I think that’s a great idea.” You reply, inching your face closer to his. No extra words necessary, you both understand what you are trying to say. “One of the best ones I’ve had in a while.” Daniel has moved his face closer to yours, the morning sunlight spilling in from the windows lighting up his features. He is stunning.

“You know what else is a great idea?” You whisper now, your lips way too close for big movements. “What?” He whispers back, your lips now brushing against each other. It is taking everything in you not to eliminate all of the unnecessary space between the two of you.

“Breakfast!” You say, planting a peck on his lips then getting up from the bed.

Daniel groans, burying his face into one of the pillows. “You are such a tease!” He says, getting up anyway. “We have plenty of time to do that later.” You reply, winking at his pouting face. Suddenly, his expression shifts. The realization that you both are not working with borrowed time anymore — that you have the promise of all weekend and maybe next weekend or even future weekdays to make up for lost time between the two of you because neither of you need to worry about when you’ll see each other next. “That we do, that we do.” He replies after a while.

And as you make your way to the hotel’s breakfast area, your hand secretly in his as you ride the elevator, you are smiling wider than you have in a while and you wouldn’t be surprised if he is too. Daniel squeezes your hand and you think you’re hearing things but you’re sure he’s just whispered it:

“At last.”

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unoriginalmess · 3 years

Text

A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

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To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

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And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

#a second mask #feralnette #feralnette au #felinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #here it finally is #idk why some of the tags arent working

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jadegreenimmortality · 3 years

Note

hello! your header said requests are open so here i am 👉👈

if it’s okay, may i request hcs for atsushi when he just keeps accidentally (and unintentionally ofc) ignoring/neglecting his gf (or gender neutral if you wish) because of yk, ada detective stuff and exhaustion?? if possible angst to fluff or just overall hurt comfort pls :)

ive been going through smth similar with a close firmed so yeah haha

i hope you have a nice day or evening!😊

Atsushi accidentally neglecting his s/o

A/N: Heyyy dearest anon! Thank you so, so much for requesting, I am glad you deemed me worthy!!!! (ノ▽〃) I am truly sorry to get to this so late, my writing schedule is just not made for emergency comfort requests and I hope that whatever was going on with your close friend is long resolved by now. (≧≦) If not, this hopefully will bring you some comfort. <3

Pairings: Atsushi x gn! Reader

Genre: hurt to comfort

Warnings: angst, crippling self-doubt

Summary: Atsushi gets buried in work and doesn’t notice how this leads to him neglecting his s/o, until (y/n) has had enough of it. Fluffy ending.

Being the s/o of an ADA member in general is already hard. Any of them will work overtime regularly or just ignore regular work hours completely if need be. The burden to protect a whole city is heavy after all and you have to go to certain lengths to be able to do it justice.

But Atsushi is a very devoted s/o. Since you’ve stepped into his life, he’s been deeply thankful to have met you; even more when you became a couple. And although he has to deal with a high workload, he never failed to set time aside to spend with you. Until now.

You are used to him calling you in the late evening when he walks home to ask you about your day, only talking about his own day if you ask him to, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his matters. You are used to getting random texts throughout the day whenever he can spare a moment; asking you trivial things about your day or commenting on something he saw that reminded him of you. You are used to meeting up at least twice a week for lunch and spending most of the weekends together; you are used to having him close to you, even though his work keeps him physically away from you most of the time.

But lately, he barely calls you anymore. You start to feel a painful sting in your chest whenever you sit by the phone waiting even past midnight, hoping he might still call. Lately, his texts have gotten shorter and strangely impersonal; still peppered with emojis, but even seven differently coloured hearts can’t compare to a proper message with actual content after a week; lately, he’s been late to your lunch meetings or have been cancelling them altogether. In short, he’s been more and more absent.

At the start, you were just worried. Knowing his line of work, you were pretty positive he was working a bit too much lately, but you didn’t wish to burden him further by asking for his attention, which is why you didn’t express the accumulating sense of rejection and hurt which started to arise after weeks passed by with no changes in his behaviour.

And the continued absence started to get worse. After three weeks, he started to run late at Fridays, sending you a million “I’m so sorry’s” via text because he had, yet again, to work overtime. It’s fine, you told yourself, as you stared at the dinner you had prepared in your excitement to finally see him again, which would now get cold.

When he finally arrived, he looked exhausted. It made you forget the painful tightness in your chest for a moment. He looked just too pitiful, his face adorned by quite visible, blue-ish shadows under his eyes, his body slumped forward in the clear need of rest. When you hugged him, his reaction was weak and a yawn escaped his mouth the moment you leaned back. But his smile was as sweet and loving as ever, so you had mercy on the poor, tired soul and decided to draw him a hot bath. Maybe a bit of relaxing together in the bathub would lift his spirits, and you could just eat afterwards…

But when you came back to the living room, you found him fast asleep on the couch, one arm resting over his eyes to shield him from the ceiling light. You just didn’t have the heart to wake him up…even though you suddenly felt all alone again, his physical presence seeming only a weak replacement for actual time spend together.

The rest of the weekend made you largely forget your pain though. After a good night’s rest, Atsushi finally seemed to be back to his old self again: a cheerful, soft-mannered and caring boyfriend you could share your life with. You were hoping that there was no need to bring up the matter anymore. And he didn’t bring it up either; he didn’t notice the way your smile faltered when he mentioned how much word he had to do lately.

Your hopes were in vain. The week following that one was the worst yet. You barely got a text a day, some of them purely emojis, and you didn’t meet to eat lunch together even once. You felt yourself get close to the point of despair – not that your happiness depended on him, but could you even call him your boyfriend when he seemed to have forgotten that you existed? The hurt and pain started to get slowly replaced by anger and a subtle, yet very persistent fear of abandonment. You felt guilty for thinking about him this way – sweet, kind Atsushi, deep down you knew he would never neglect you consciously - but it was still getting harder and harder for you to remember.

The breaking point came on Friday. Even though it felt cynical, you already didn’t expect Atsushi to be on time – but you didn’t expect him to send you a text (a text!!) saying that he wouldn’t be able to make it and he’d come over the next day. It was the exact moment you finished reading the message that you lost it.

Something inside you – the dam holding in all the different emotions that build up over the past few weeks – crumbled. Your next actions were purely impulsive, logical thinking reduced to tired little speck in your mind.

You dialed Atsushi’s number. As he picked up, you didn’t leave the man even half a second to greet you and just sobbed into the phone: “Please come over. Now.”

Yes, sobbed. You didn’t register when the tears started to flow over and stain your face, but now you were trembling from the uncontrolled hiccups that interrupted your words.

And then you hung up.

Atsushi was on your doorstep 15 minutes later and ringing the doorbell like a maniac.

He was close to panicking. He was talking to Kunikida before he got the call, who witnessed his face turn paler than the moon after you hung up. Atsushi was in clear distress and proceeded to bow deeply, sputtering something about being very sorry and making it up to the older colleague, then spurting out of the room without even taking his bag with him. Kunikida didn’t dare to interfere.

Now, Atsushi has had his fair share of clashes with rivaling organizations already. He has witnessed people getting held hostage, kidnapped and threatened, including himself. So of course that is where his mind goes after receiving your call and when he arrives, he’s in a state of mind close to panic.

Imagine his relief when you open the door shortly after, physically unharmed. He grabs you by the shoulder, looking you up and down to check for any injuries. The relief only lasts a split second though because as he takes a close look at your face, his eyes widen in shock.

He doesn’t need his emotional radar to realize that something is wrong with you. Your eyes are puffy and red from all the crying, your cheeks are stained from the endless stream of tears and your lower lip is still trembling when you open him the door. You see his expression change from alert and highly worried to a second of relief and then to deeply worried again. It’s touching, really, and you are thankful to see the man you love still care about you as much as you care about him, but right now, you are too upset to let that be enough.

“(y/n)? What happened? What’s wrong??”

You drag him into the living room while he tries to find out what has happened, confused and unsettled by your behaviour. The whole situation is giving him a high level of anxiety as he feels the urgent need to ease whatever pain you are going through and, at the same time, starts to get the vague, yet suffocating feeling that he missed something terribly important.

As you sit him down on the couch and take a seat in front of him, he’s already desperately wracking his brain to understand what he could’ve done wrong, and the more he struggles to understand, the worse his desperation gets. This man is inclined to blaming the whole world’s suffering on himself and seeing his partner in such distress without understanding is already torture to him – especially as you won’t react to his questions at all.

As you start talking, his hands are folded in a cramped up position in front of his body to keep them from trembling.

At first, you manage to keep your composure while you recount what has happened. He listens attentively and eager to understand; and as the terrible realization dawns on him what had led to your current state, it doesn’t take him long to fall into an emotional pit of self-hate for not noticing his negligent behaviour. While you keep talking, you can observe how he lowers his head to avoid your gaze, hands clasping into tight fists on his knees.

He’s in a state of shock, caught between the terrible blame he’s putting upon himself and the need to somehow, in any way, make it up to you. He’s terribly afraid this may be the end of it; of your relationship, your love, everything the two of you had. He has disappointed you, he has proven to be unreliable and useless after all – that’s what the voice in his head, wearing the face of his old orphanage caretaker, is telling him.

Somewhere midway through your recount, the tears start flowing again. Even in his state of turmoil, Atsushi’s emotional radar registers your current mood swing. He automatically lifts a hand to wipe your tears away - only to have you slap it away.

You’re both shocked from your outburst of emotion, and you feel guilt spike as you see the evident hurt on his face, knowing well that he doesn’t bode well with violence in the domestic environment. That is when the anger finally dissolves and leaves back nothing but pain and the dreaded loneliness inside of you. You struggle to finish your monologue between hiccups and recurring sobs, now talking about how it all made you feel and how you didn’t want to burden him further by asking for more attention. You keep your head low, struggling not to break down physically, all the emotion that busted out of you leaving you empty and exhausted.

In the meantime, Atsushi’s mind is screaming at him. Your slap dragged him out of his shock-induced paralysis, but his head won’t stop spinning around the same questions. He made you suffer with his behaviour and he didn’t even notice. How could that happen? How could he let it go this far?

It’s only when stop talking that he dares to talk. For a few seconds, a heavy, cold silence falls over the room, nothing to be heard but both of your tears hitting the sofa. Then:

“I’m sorry.”

His voice sounds like a crumbled piece of paper, barely audible as he chokes on his words.

“I know that there is nothing I can say to make this up to you. I can see in terrifying clarity that I messed up. I just hope that there is something that I can do for you to forgive me.”

That’s were his voice starts trembling.

“I know I am not worthy of your love anymore, but I will do everything in my power to make it up to you, even if that there’s nothing I can offer you -”

By this point, Atsushi is crying too. His tears are almost silent as he muffles his sobs, not wanting to make you feel guilty for making him cry.

What he doesn’t know is that your angers has long dissipated by now. The moment he dares to lift his gaze, whole body slightly shaking from the hold-in sobs, that you realize all of this isn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to yell at him, berate or tell him what a horrible boyfriend he has been. You didn’t want him to look so hurt, or guilty, or fearful. You just wanted him to acknowledge you again, to remember to text you, to feel his affection and love and be able to show him yours. You can’t deny that it makes you feel relieved to see him have such a strong emotional reaction though – a tiny part of you is satisfied to see how much he does indeed care for you. But this is no reason to keep him suffering.

You cut him off with a hug. It may be a simple gesture, but as you lean forward and wrap your arms around his slender shoulders, you can feel how his tense body slumps forward, falling into the embrace. Don’t get me wrong, his thoughts are still spinning 180 miles an hour and his eyes widen with the sudden gesture of love, but his body knows instinctively what it wants, how much he longed for your embrace.

“Eh? (y/n)?” – “It’s okay, Atsushi. I’m so sorry that I yelled at you…it’s alright now. I’m sorry, this is not how I wanted this to end.”

Your voice is just as shaky as his and as your equally tired body sinks against him and you press your tear-stained cheek against Atsushi’s, he’s finally able to relax. He wraps his arms around you and presses you against him in a most desperate manner, one hand buried in your hair, one on your back.

You stay like that seemingly forever, listening to each other’s heart beats, buried in each other’s warmth while you calm down. You finally start to feel again what you’ve been craving the last weeks: the safety, the closeness and the trust in Atsushi’s love and care for you. And you’re determined to make him feel the same.

So when you peel out of his strong grip, you proceed to take his hands in yours and lean your forehead against his, steadying him physically first. You continue with trying to steady him mentally second, repeating that you love him and you only felt so hurt because you feared he may be starting to lose interest in you. You assure him that this does not bring you even close to the end of your relationship and that every couple has fights of the sort, yes, even ones this bad. You repeat this again and again, until you can see the of hope in his eyes that you were waiting for.

Even though things have calmed down now, the two of you stay up all night. You started with changing into more comfortable clothing and ordering take-out. When it arrives, you sit down at the couch instead of the table, craving each other’s closeness. You snuggle up under a cosy blanket and eat, silently basking in each other’s presence.

After finishing your meal and feeling a bit recovered, you start talking again. You remind him that, even though your current emotional struggle is solved now, the problem at hand isn’t, asking him to be less compliant at the agency and not accept every task that may significantly extend his working hours.

You both know that it will be a struggle for him; of course it will, as a part of him still believes his level of helpfulness to measure his worth in the world. But he understands now that he can’t comply to everything if he wants to keep his life together and he’s determined not to let something like this happen ever again. He still feels guilty, he still feels like he failed at being your boyfriend, but after your reassurances, these feelings are more of an incentive for him to better himself. All of this he says out loud, smiling cautiously, but with the warmth you do love so much.

He promises to work less and put more time aside for you again. After you thank him, he asks you shyly for a favour in return: to approach him faster if you ever notice similar behaviour to happen again.

“I don’t want you to have to suffer through the same thing ever again.”

If you needed any last proof that he means it, this is it. You can’t do anything but reach forward to grab his face and give him a short, yet loving kiss. It’s only after that that you whisper in response:

“Only if you promise the same.”

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dragon-temeraire · 2 years

Text

You're the sky that I fell through

Summary: Hal doesn’t really seem to hear him, and if possible, looks even more tired than before. “I landed the plane, right? My memories are pretty blurry at that point, but I landed it, didn’t I?”

Notes: I've always liked that Hal Jordan is a pilot, so I wanted to write something that showcased that part of his life, since I am an aviation enthusiast myself. This fic has a fair amount of medical and aviation terminology in it for flavor, but familiarity with terms is not necessary for enjoyment. Please be aware that there are some potentially graphic descriptions of bleeding and injuries. (On AO3)

---------------

The third floor of the hospital is quiet, and Bruce keeps his steps light and purposeful, his eyes scanning restlessly. A nurse working at a mostly-empty station in the middle of the hallway gives him a nod, and returns to her work without a word. The door to room 317 is ajar, just a crack, and he stops for a moment to look inside and assess.

Hal is sitting up in bed, staring blankly forward, looking pale and tired and forlorn. His hands are gripping the blanket, and there’s a soft whirr as the automatic blood pressure cuff around his arm begins to inflate. From the brief report he’d gotten on the phone, he knows Hal had gotten a blood transfusion earlier, but the IV drip he’s getting now looks like it’s just normal saline.

He pushes the door open, and Hal’s eyes flick toward him, for just a moment, and Bruce realizes Hal hasn’t been staring at nothing, he’s been staring at a clock.

“Do you know how it feels, to wake up in a place like this, and realize absolutely no one in the world cares about you?” Hal says, in a low, scraping voice. He rubs his hands roughly over his face. “Sorry, that’s the drugs talking. And the blood loss, probably.”

“If you’re referencing the fact that it’s me who’s here, I’m curious about that myself. I assumed I’d rate tenth on your list of emergency contacts, if that,” Bruce says, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Nope, you’re third,” Hal says offhandedly, eyes tracking his progress. His head doesn’t move.

“Then I can explain. Barry is at a conference out of town. He was willing to drop everything and try to get here, but as he’s the main presenter, I discouraged him from doing that. Oliver is dealing with a massive bank heist with a hostage situation. I updated Dinah on your status, so he won’t worry too much when he finally gets all the messages from the hospital,” Bruce says, but his eyes are on the right side of Hal’s neck.

I told them both I would take care of you, he thinks, but he hadn’t been prepared for the way it would feel, to see Hal like this. He’d been told Hal was stable, would be discharged soon, and he’d foolishly thought that would make it easier. But the sight of that white bandage on Hal’s neck, tape running every which way in an effort to keep it in place, and the bruising he can see beginning just below the edges of the bandage, starts up an unexpected ache in his chest.

Hal sees him looking, but what he’s feeling must not show on his face, because he just says, “They’ve had a hell of a time keeping it on. There’s like, sixty-something stitches under there, and somehow I’m still bleeding. I asked the doctor why they couldn’t just put the tape all the way around my neck, really get the pressure they want, and he said, ‘that could occlude both of your carotid arteries’. Doctors are no fun.” There’s a pause, when Hal turns his whole body to pick up a cup of water and takes a few sips. “You are here to spring me, right? Because I’m so ready to get out of here.”

“Yes. You’ll be discharged soon.” That’s what he’d been told on the phone, anyway. Once he’d gotten to the hospital, he hadn’t thought about finding out more information or getting the discharge process started. He’d just needed to see Hal. Especially after he’d seen the plane.

As though Hal can read his mind, he says, “Did you stop by Ferris before you came here?”

“Yes,” Bruce says. “Carol wanted to be here, but there was a lot happening that she needed to handle. I collected your belongings from your locker, including your phone.”

Hal doesn’t really seem to hear him, and if possible, looks even more tired than before. “I landed the plane, right? My memories are pretty blurry at that point, but I landed it, didn’t I?”

Bruce thinks about the jet, askew off the side of the runway, the front landing gear bent and the tires buried deep in the dirt. Thinks about the blood all over the instruments, and down the side of the plane where they’d pulled Hal out. “You landed it,” he says, and the ache in his chest is worse than ever.

“Good,” Hal says, giving the tiniest of nods.

He looks like he’s drifting, his face drawn, so Bruce holds in all the questions he wants to ask.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and the nurse comes in holding a clear plastic bag filled with medications and wound care supplies, and handful of paperwork. She glances at the latest blood pressure reading before she removes the cuff, then moves to the other side of the bed to disconnect the IV.

“You’re doing well, your BP’s just a little low. You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks, while your blood volume replenishes,” she says, as she peels away the clear dressing on Hal’s arm and pulls out the IV catheter.

“Sure,” Hal says, and Bruce thinks that if anyone deserves to take it easy for a little while, it’s Hal.

Bruce listens attentively as the nurse runs through the list of medications he’s being discharged with, along with necessary wound care and his scheduled follow-up appointment. She summarizes the care he’s received, including the surgery that repaired his nicked artery and closed his neck wound. He can tell that Hal is trying to follow, trying to keep up with the constant flow of words, but it’s clear that he’s having a difficult time.

“The surgeon was considering putting in a drain,” the nurse says, and that pulls Hal’s attention back. “If the swelling gets worse, or doesn’t decrease over the next few days, you’ll need to be reassessed.” Her gaze moves to Bruce then, including him. “You’ll also need to start slowly, gently moving your neck tomorrow, to stretch out those muscles. Having them tense all the time will only increase your pain. Just be careful of your stitches—if anything hurts near them, stop.”

Hal agrees, and signs the paperwork she hands him. Then the nurse is gone, promising to return in a few minutes.

“I brought you some clothes,” Bruce says into the sudden quiet of the room. “In case you don’t want to leave in that hospital gown.”

Hal brightens a little at that, seems to finally notice the bag Bruce is holding. “Yeah, I would love to get out of this thing,” he says, plucking irritably at the string ties.

He watches as Hal eases himself over until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and sets the bag next to him. He turns mostly away, watching Hal out of the corner of his eye, to give him what privacy he can.

“Um,” Hal says after a moment, and Bruce finally turns to look.

Hal has already managed to get the sweatpants and socks on, but the button-down shirt he’d shrugged into is still mostly draped open across his chest. Without being able to duck his head, he’s having a hard time aligning the buttons properly. And his hands are shaking.

“Let me,” Bruce says, stepping close and lightly tugging the plackets until the shirt settles into place. It’s soothing, while he buttons, to feel the warmth of Hal’s skin through the fabric, to let his fingers brush against Hal’s chest and know that he still breathes, that his heart beats steadily on. He’s struck with a strange, powerful urge to take Hal into his arms, to hold him tightly until the fear still churning inside him finally recedes. Instead, he steps back, hands dropping away. “All finished.”

“Thanks,” Hal says, not quite managing to look at him.

He looks like he might say something else, but the nurse returns then, pushing a wheelchair. “Your chariot awaits,” she says cheerfully as she rolls it closer to the bed.

While she gets him settled, Bruce busies himself gathering Hal’s few belongings in the now-empty clothes bag, along with the medications and discharge instructions.

“Ready?” She asks, and then they’re headed out the door.

She waits with Hal on the sidewalk while Bruce brings the car around. He’d driven a sedan, hoping it’d be easier to get Hal into than a low-slung sports car. It still takes some maneuvering, and Hal lets out a few hisses of pain, but they finally manage to get him settled in the front seat.

They’re a few minutes away from the hospital when he remembers Hal’s phone, and retrieves it from the center console. There are more than a hundred text messages and missed calls. He turns to offer it to Hal, and sees he’s already dozed off.

Bruce puts the phone on silent, and sets it in a cup holder. Hal can deal with it later.

It’s not until the car is crunching slowly along the gravel driveway that Hal wakes up. “Hey,” he says sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. “This doesn’t look like my apartment.”

“That’s because it’s not,” Bruce says, amused in spite of himself. “You shouldn’t be alone right now, not with an injury like that.” He pulls around to the side entrance, the one without stairs.

“Okay,” Hal says, though it doesn’t really sound like it is. “But you need to let the NTSB know I’m here. They’ll be expecting me at my apartment.”

“They were on site when I stopped by Ferris,” Bruce says, getting out of the car and waiting for Hal to do the same. “I let the investigators know you’d be here. Some of them actually went to interview you at the hospital, but you were unconscious at the time. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“I’d wondered about that,” Hal says, lightly touching the bandage at his neck.

“Are you hungry?” Bruce asks, leaning back into the car to grab the bag of medication. Hal will likely need something for pain soon. “I’m sure Alfred has dinner prepared.”

“I could eat,” Hal says.

He looks like he regrets that declaration, though, when the food is served. In front of Hal is a spinach and kale salad, sprinkled generously with beans and lentils. Next to it is a bowl of beef and barley soup.

“Uh, am I missing something? Being punished?” he asks, looking from his own options to Bruce’s plate, on which a creamy pasta with shrimp and scallops is piled high.

“Nothing like that,” Bruce says, carefully spinning some pasta onto his fork. “Those are iron-rich foods to help replenish the blood you lost. And the soup will help with dehydration. Be grateful there’s no liver.”

“Oh,” Hal says firmly, immediately spearing some spinach. “I’m grateful.”

Bruce lets him eat in peace for a few minutes before asking, “Will the ring help you heal faster?”

“To some degree,” Hal says. “It’s probably also what kept me from actually dying of blood loss.”

“That, along with pure stubbornness,” Bruce says wryly.

“Oh, that’s actually just force of will, it’s my superpower,” Hal says, smirking.

They’ve just finished dessert when Oliver shows up, which is the exact moment he remembers Hal’s phone, and the fact that there are probably a lot of people Hal needs to contact. He’s ashamed to admit, if only to himself, that he’d been enjoying Hal’s full attention, without any distractions.

Hal’s head turns a little, automatically, when Oliver comes in, and Bruce catches his wince. He’s smiling though, so it can’t be that bad. “Ollie!” he says brightly.

“Hey, just came to see how you were doing.” His gaze drifts over. “Bruce said he was picking you up from the hospital, but it’s been radio silence since then. How are you doing?”

“We haven’t been here long. And I haven’t even thought about calling anybody. Sorry,” Hal says, rubbing at his face, eyes closed.

“You’ve had a hell of a day,” Oliver says easily, eyes on the tape snaking across Hal’s neck. “I won’t stay long. Hey, why don’t I show you to the usual guest room?”

Bruce clears his throat, feeling awkward at interrupting their moment. “Please do. Hal, I’m going to get your phone out of the car.”

“Thanks,” he says, and then he and Oliver are standing and making their way slowly down the hallway.

“Didn’t know the planes you were flying these days were so vicious,” is the last thing he hears as he heads the other way, along with Hal’s answering laugh.

When he returns, they’re both sitting on the bed, Oliver’s arm slung across Hal’s shoulder, and he’s embarrassed by the twinge of jealousy he feels at that. He hands Hal his phone, and it’s a little comical, the way his eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” he says, starting to click through all the messages, his phone held out awkwardly in front of him.

“What, did you forget you have friends?” Oliver asks teasingly.

“I’m just impressed that the five friends I have managed to call and text me this much,” Hal says, laughing.

Bruce makes his retreat then, sorting through Hal’s medications to make a schedule of what needs to be given, and when. He’s not quite finished when Oliver says goodbye and lets himself out, though not without an obligatory and vaguely threatening “you better take good care of him.” He knows Oliver would prefer Hal to stay with him, but he doesn’t have the medical experience or supplies that Bruce has on hand.

He sorts out what Hal needs to take tonight, along with a glass of water. Hal is cautiously opening drawers of an old, creaky dresser when he walks into the guest room.

“Can I help you with something?”

Hal startles a little, turning his whole body to glare. “I’m going to get you some tap shoes. Then I’ll be able to hear you click-clacking all the way down the hall.”

“What were you looking for?” Bruce asks, completely ignoring the mental image that invokes.

“Oh, a shirt,” Hal says, tugging at the button-down he’s still wearing. “I don’t really want to sleep in this, but I’m really cold, so I want something.”

“That’s the blood loss,” Bruce says. “I’ll be right back.” He grabs one of his own long sleeve shirts, along with another blanket.

Hal has his shirt unbuttoned when he returns, and Bruce’s eyes catch on the livid bruise that’s forming above his collarbone. “I have some medication for you, as well,” he says, handing Hal the shirt and spreading the extra blanket across the bed.

The shirt is large, but Hal still works his way carefully into it, trying not to move his neck or catch his bandage as he puts it on. Bruce turns mostly away again, but this time to keep his gaze from lingering inappropriately.

“There’s a couple of antibiotics, something for pain, and a medication to help keep your blood pressure up,” he says, once Hal is seated on the bed again.

“Delightful,” Hal says, eyeing the collection of pills. “My neck is really starting to hurt.” He takes them carefully one at a time, tilting his head back the little bit that he can. “Hey, how come I’m still having blood loss symptoms? Why didn’t the hospital put back as much as I lost?”

“Even in these modern times, blood transfusions aren’t completely risk-free,” Bruce says, sitting in a chair close to the bed. “The more they transfuse, the higher the likelihood of electrolyte imbalance, allergic reaction, or even a bacterial infection. They gave you three bags of packed red blood cells, and that was enough to stabilize you, so they didn’t push any more. It’s a careful balance, to bring up your oxygen levels and blood pressure without overloading your cardiac system.”

Hal raises his eyebrows. “You sure know a lot. Did you want to be a doctor, or something?”

“I learned a lot of basic first aid from Alfred at a young age, along with some field medicine. But once I started taking my son on patrol with me, I was determined to become as much of a medical expert as possible, in case it might be useful.”

Hal gives the barest nod, looking suddenly very serious. “Of course.”

“Hal,” Bruce says, equally grave, and finally unable to hold in the question he’s been wanting to ask all day. “Why didn’t you eject?”

“I thought I could make it,” Hal says, looking at him briefly, then away again. “I lost a plane once, when I got too far in my own head. The way it felt, watching her impact the ground below me, knowing that the loss of that beautiful bird was all on me—I couldn’t do that again. This time, I had to save her.”

“Hal,” he says, his hand closing around Hal’s arm, leaning in and trying to catch his gaze. “You know a plane isn’t worth your life, right? It could never matter as much as you do. You know that, don’t you?”

He gets a quiet sound of assent, and Bruce leaves before he can give too much of himself away.

There’s nothing like a near-death experience to put things in perspective, even if it’s not your near-death experience.

He checks on Hal several times though the night, and when he leans into the room at around six-thirty in the morning, he’s actually awake and alert enough to answer a few questions.

“Hey, I was kind of zoning out during that whole discharge thing,” Hal says, straightening the sheets. “Can I shower with this thing on? Should I take it off now?” His fingers lightly trace the edges of the bandage.

“Leave it on. You need the dressing changed anyway, and the hot water will make it easier to remove. I’ll get everything prepared if you’d like to shower now.”

“Sure,” Hal says. “Um, can I take some more pain medication? It’s really starting to throb.”

“You should really have food, first,” Bruce says, then pauses, considering. “Unless you wouldn’t mind taking it with a glass of chocolate milk?”

Hal laughs. “Haven’t had that in a long time. It’ll be a little treat, I guess.”

Bruce gathers a change of clothes, the medications, and the milk, and makes sure Hal knows where the spare towels are before leaving him to shower. He has his supplies set up by the time Hal emerges, but does a little double-take when he strides out of the bathroom shirtless.

“I wanted to hurry before it dried,” Hal says, catching his look.

“Fine,” Bruce says, gesturing to the chair he has set up in front of him. He pulls on some gloves, and starts with the adhesive remover, carefully peeling off all the tape. The gauze pad is still adhered to the wound, though. There’s a lot more dried blood under it than he’d expected. “Why the hell didn’t they use telfa?” he grumbles.

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing. This is going to hurt.” He peels up a corner carefully, and gently sweeps under the bandage with a wet swab. “Guess it’s good you didn’t wear a shirt,” he adds, spraying a little saline on Hal’s neck.

“Yep,” Hal says, absently wiping his chest. He winces a little as Bruce keeps working.

Finally, he manages to detach the dressing without starting any fresh bleeding. He stares at the bruised, swollen skin with its crescent moon of stitches, assessing. “There was some significant force here,” he says, gently pressing around the wound, and Hal makes a little sound. “Looks like it nearly went through your neck.”

“Guess I got lucky,” Hal says, staring fixedly ahead.

“There’s quite a bit of dried blood around your stitches. I need to clean the area, and apply the ointment. Are you okay to do that now, or do you need a break?”

“I’m good, go ahead.”

He grabs Hal a towel this time, draping it across his chest and shoulders.

“You gonna get me wet?” Hal asks with a smirk, and gets a spray of saline in his hair for his trouble. He just laughs.

Bruce works patiently and carefully with swabs, scrubbing the dried blood away. It’s time-consuming both because of the sheer number of stitches, and because Hal keeps leaning involuntarily away from him. When he’s done, he sprays more saline to rinse, and isn’t completely reassured by what he sees.

While the edges of the wound are mostly well-approximated, a few of the stitches at the bottom of the crescent moon are under greater tension than the others. It’s from the swelling, and though the bruise above Hal’s collarbone tells him the wound is draining, it’s not as fast as he’d like. It’s obvious why Hal doesn’t want to turn his head; the pressure must be uncomfortable, at best.

He gently blots the wound dry with gauze, monitoring Hal’s pain response. Then he grabs a clean swab and gently spreads antibiotic ointment on the wound, bandaging it up with non-stick dressing and a neat latticework of tape. “We’ll have to do this again, tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Hal says. “Is it time for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Bruce says, pulling the towel away. “Get dressed.”

The NTSB shows up about an hour after breakfast, and Alfred shows them to the sitting room for the interview. Bruce waits until Alfred’s returned to the kitchen, then creeps over to an open doorway. He’s positioned where he is unlikely to be seen by Hal or the investigators, but can still hear and see everything himself. And he’d be embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping in his own home, but he needs to know.

“We have the tower recording from your test flight, and we’re currently reviewing it,” an investigator says, “but we’d like to hear what happened in your own words.”

“I took the flight knowing that the plane was flawed, but I didn’t expect that to reveal itself quite so early,” Hal says with a shrug, leaning back in his chair.

The investigator looks up from adjusting a recording device. “You knew there was an issue with the plane?”

“Of course I did,” Hal says easily. “There are always issues when manufacturers try to make planes smarter than pilots, as I’m sure you know very well.”

There’s a small smile from one of the investigators, along with a nod of agreement. “What were your concerns about this plane?”

“Well, it’s a fighter jet with an excessive payload on the wings, which has really screwed with its aerodynamics, and has delicate recon equipment on the belly. Those components can be damaged by excessive speed, so it has a built-in automatic system that deploys the spoilers any time an overspeed is detected. And based on the schematics I saw, this data is fed from only one pitot tube, with no redundancy.”

Bruce finds himself leaning closer, compelled by the absolute confidence in Hal’s voice.

“This is a problem, because it’s absurd to purposely slow down a fighter jet, especially with no warning to the pilot.” Hal continues, expression intense. “This plane is trying to be too many things. It’s a bad compromise. Like a spork. Sure, it can work as a spoon or a fork, but it’s not great for either, and it’s no one’s first choice. If the military wants more payload, it has bombers. If it wants to do recon, it has stealth jets or UAVs. And if they need to engage enemy aircraft, they have fighter jets. There’s no need for a plane to be all three.”

“And knowing the plane had problems, you flew it anyway?”

“That’s what a test pilot is for,” Hal says. “Admittedly, I was expecting some control issues and flight instability, not a life-threatening injury.”

Hal looks like he’s going to say something else about that, but then the investigator says, “Okay, let’s start from the beginning. Was this the first time you’d flown a NeoJet aircraft?”

“Yes. My impression is that the company is mainly in the prototype stage of production, and they don’t actually have that many functional, flightworthy aircraft.”

Bruce catches a surly look from one of the investigators.

“Okay, how did your flight start out that morning?”

“It was good. Nice weather, not too much crosswind. I did some basic handling, just to get a feel for the aircraft, then I started testing the safety systems. I brought the speed down until I got a stall warning, I did a low flyover to make sure the ground proximity warning was functional. I got back up to five thousand feet and did some maneuverability tests: I banked it hard a few times, flew it inverted, and pitched the nose up for maximum climb. Next I was going to test the overspeed system.”

“How was it handling at that point?”

“A little clunky, and the controls weren’t as light as they should be, but it was doing what I asked,” Hal says, hand lightly tracing the bandage on his neck. “As I was getting the speed up, I decided to do a few aileron rolls. But just as I started a roll to the left, all the spoilers deployed, and it arrested the speed so suddenly it felt like hitting a wall.”

“Had the overspeed warning gone off?”

“No, I never heard or saw it. All of a sudden, the plane is practically stopping in midair, and at the same time something sliced my neck open. I distinctly remember thinking ‘who left a knife in the cockpit?’ as I put my hand up to try and stop the bleeding. It wasn’t a knife, though, was it?”

“No,” an investigator says. “It was a piece of aluminum frame from the circuit breaker panel at the rear of the cockpit. All four pieces were supposed to be secured with screws, but that side had only been temporarily tacked up. We’re trying to find out why.” He rustles through a manila folder, and slides a picture across to Hal. “Here it is. It was found on the cockpit floor.”

Hal lifts the picture to study it carefully. “Yep, that sharp edge sure found me.” He sets it down without saying anything else, but Bruce can practically feel the anger radiating off him.

“What happened next?”

“Well, that sudden slow-down slammed me forward—I could feel the entire airframe creaking under the strain—and apparently it temporarily lodged a piece of metal in my neck. That was a little disorienting, I can tell you. The plane tipped forward into a dive, I could feel the blood running down my neck, and all I could think about was where the runway was. I didn’t pull it out of the dive until pretty late, because I needed to get down quickly, and because I knew I’d need both hands to pull it up, and I didn’t want to let up pressure until I had to.”

“Were you far from the runway?”

“No, I was honestly a little too close. I didn’t have much time to slow it down, and I wasn’t trusting the spoilers much, since I figured if I tried it might drop like a rock. Thankfully it’s a pretty long runway. I remember setting it down, and engaging the thrust reversers. I could feel myself losing consciousness, so I waited until the last second, and then I shut them down. I passed out probably a few seconds after that, I’d guess.”

“If the jet was still carrying speed, why did you stop the thrust reverse?”

“Because a plane with running engines is not approachable by emergency crews. I knew I didn’t have long, and the jet wasn’t moving so fast that I didn’t think it’d roll to a stop fairly quickly. Besides, there’s a sandpit at the end of the runway for that purpose.”

“Turns out you didn’t need the sandpit,” the investigator with the manila folder says. He slides it closer to Hal. “Would you like to see the pictures we took of the plane?”

Hal hesitates then, hand hovering over the folder for a long moment. “Yeah, I guess I would.”

Bruce watches, concerned, as Hal lifts the stack of photos up and starts flipping through them. He knows when Hal gets to the pictures of the cockpit by the way his eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He stares for a long time, then keeps moving through the rest of the pictures. “I knew it was bad, but…not that bad.”

Watching the scene play out is a potent reminder to Bruce that, unlike many other members of the Justice League, Hal’s civilian job is also dangerous. It’s painful to think that he could lose Hal, not to an alien force or a particularly powerful villain, but simply to human error.

“Did you consider ejecting?” The investigator asks, interrupting Bruce’s thoughts. He slides the photos back in the folder and tucks them in his clipboard.

“Yeah, for a second, as I was heading straight toward the ground. But I felt that I could get it down safely, so that’s what I was determined to do.”

“That was some truly impressive flying. Thank you for your time,” the investigator says, shaking Hal’s hand. “Please let us know if you think of any other details.”

“Sure,” Hal says, then, “Hey, wait.” He points to one of the men. “Aren’t you a representative from the manufacturer?”

“Yes,” the man says shortly, looking surprised.

“Well, your plane’s fucked up,” Hal says.

“I’m getting that,” the man says grimly, and Bruce slips away, feeling a little lighter.

Hal finds him not long after the interview, smiling when Bruce glances up at him.

“I think it went pretty well. Managed to get through everything without cursing. Well, mostly. The NTSB is planning to thoroughly check their other prototype planes, along with their schematics and automated systems. That’s gonna hold up their manufacturing and test flights for a while,” Hal says cheerfully.

Bruce makes a noncommittal noise at that, which is, he realizes a moment later, a mistake.

“Hey, Bruce? Were you by chance considering buying NeoJet just to shut them down?”

He hesitates, weighing his answer, but Hal looks amused more than anything. “I wasn’t actually thinking of shutting them down. But they’re clearly lacking quality control, so I felt some new management might hone their attention to detail.”

Hal laughs. “Yeah, okay. Some of the engineers there are doing good work, I’d hate to see them punished. And their prototype intended to compete with the Cessna in the civil aviation market looks good.” He reaches up and traces the bandage idly. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll be doing much flying for a while, so it’s not likely I’ll test their planes again.”

Bruce nods, and he’s saved from having to say more by the arrival of Barry, followed shortly by Carol.

They all end up having lunch together in the dining room, as Alfred is only too happy to whip up some extra portions. The three of them talk excitedly together, Carol asking questions about the investigation, and Barry asking the follow-up questions someone not familiar with aviation would ask. Bruce sits quietly, listening with interest, but not contributing unless asked something directly.

They talk a little while after the plates are cleared, but eventually Barry says goodbye. When Hal excuses himself from the table, Carol follows after him. Bruce sits there for a moment longer, trying not to let his thoughts drift to their logical conclusions, then gathers Hal’s pain medication and a glass of water.

The door to the guest bedroom is open, and he has to push down a wave of jealousy at the way Carol is leaned against Hal’s side, arm around his waist as she talks quietly to him. If Hal could turn his head, they’d be close enough to kiss.

Of course. If there was something powerful enough to rejuvenate their on-again-off-again relationship, it’d be this.

He’s also had enough of lurking outside doorways for today. “How’s the pain?” he asks, eyes dropping momentarily to Carol’s other hand, which is curled lightly around Hal’s bicep.

“Not terrible,” Hal says. It’s probably a lie.

“Here,” he says, handing over the medicine. “Try to get some rest.”

He leaves then, feeling restless and unsettled, and resists the urge to look back.

He doesn’t know when she leaves, but he assumes she’ll be back, probably more often than he’d like.

Hal is napping in the late afternoon when Clark drops by. It’s ostensibly to check on how Hal is doing, but he ends up following Bruce around the house and then the grounds, going on about Bruce’s generosity in looking after Hal and giving him a bed to sleep in, all while giving him significant looks that Bruce pointedly ignores. It’s heavy-handed, at best, but it does get him to admit that Carol had visited, and that, if he’d actually had a chance, he’s probably missed it by now.

That night, Hal dreams that he loses control of his plane, and is caught in a deadly spin, unrecoverable. He yanks on the control column, but it’s unresponsive, and he tries desperately to eject. Nothing happens.

He pushes helplessly on the canopy, feet pressing hard on the rudder pedals, and fingers desperately holding the eject button as the ground spirals closer. Dread fills his stomach with a sick leaden weight, and in the dream he’s screaming, but when he startles awake his jaw is clenched shut and his throat is silent.

It’s disorienting, and he blinks, looking around the strange dark bedroom. He’s sweaty, panting, his entire body burning hot, and there’s nausea swirling in his gut. Something’s not right. He looks to the window with its open curtains, the moonlight streaming through. Looks toward the door, still closed.

Wait.

He looks back to the window, then down at his pillow. It seems oddly dark in the moonlight, shadowed. A sharp pain pulses through him, abrupt and shocking, as he reaches out and touches it. His hand comes away wet with blood, and this time, he really does scream.

Bruce sits beside the bed in the Batcave’s little medbay, eyes shifting from Hal’s face to the IV line, then back again. Hal’s pulse is a slightly fluctuating digit on the monitor, but Bruce can’t resist lightly touching the inside of Hal’s wrist every few minutes, just to feel that strong, steady beat.

He’d prefer to be in the suit, down here. It has always made him feel centered, in control of his emotions, as though there is nothing he cannot handle. It’s as if, by embodying his fear, he can tame it and make it useful. It would be a comfort, to wear it now. But he’s certain it wouldn’t be a comfort to Hal, to wake and find him armored and cowled, so he doesn’t put it on.

Hal doesn’t stir for several more hours, more than halfway through his second bag of IV fluids. Bruce’s hand has been resting close to his, almost close enough to touch, so he catches the first twitches of Hal’s fingers, before he tentatively lifts the hand up to rub his eyes. He blinks up at the ceiling, looking confused, and the confusion deepens when he tries to turn his head and is stopped by the high sides of the special pillow Alfred rigged for him.

Bruce stands, so he’s more easily in Hal’s sightline.

“What happened?” Hal asks, voice scratchy.

“You ripped your stitches in your sleep. You were screaming,” Bruce says quietly. Luckily you didn’t tear the ones holding your artery together, or we would’ve had to take you to a hospital.”

“Shit,” Hal says, eyes darting away to the cave formations above before returning to Bruce. “Did I lose a lot of blood?”

“Not an amount that would normally be significant. However, on top of your previous blood loss,” he says, shaking his head a little. “We were concerned. But your blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels have remained at acceptable levels, and the new sutures Alfred placed are holding well, so we kept you here.”

“That’s…good,” Hal says hesitantly. He points toward the IV bag, and Bruce notices the shaking in his hand. “What are you giving me?”

“Lactated Ringer’s,” he says.

Hal wrinkles his nose. “That sounds like it has milk in it.”

“It does not, I assure you. It’s restoring the electrolytes you need,” he says, lightly resting his hand on Hal’s arm. “And while I’m sure your ring is helping you regenerate your blood volume, I think it’s best you don’t push your luck for a little while. Why don’t you rest some more?”

Hal, who’s been looking tired the last few minutes, says, “Sure,” and closes his eyes.

Bruce leaves his hand right where it is, and settles back into his chair.

Much later, Bruce returns from checking the monitors to find Hal sitting up, talking quietly to Alfred. He pauses for a moment to enjoy the sight of Hal, alert and smiling and not looking too much worse for wear.

“I’ll make sure your room is prepared,” he hears Alfred say, before he turns and quietly disappears up the stairs.

Hal droops a little the moment he’s gone, looking fatigued.

Bruce moves toward him, intending to ask questions, to check on how he’s doing, but instead his jaw remains tight and his step doesn’t slow as he finally gives in, does what he’s been wanting to this entire time. He closes the distance between them until he can gently pull Hal into his arms, feel the reassuring warmth of his body, the movement of his chest as he breathes. If he’d had enough forethought to guess how Hal would react, he wouldn’t have imagined the way Hal sort of folds into him, arms coming around his waist as he leans into Bruce. He holds it as long as he can, not knowing when Hal might be bothered by the press of their bodies, by the way Bruce has his head ducked down, cheek resting against the uninjured side of Hal’s neck.

He can feel Hal’s pulse against his skin, and he savors it for a moment before carefully disentangling them.

“You’re wanting to go back to the guest room?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” Hal says, tucking his arms around himself, looking cold. “Sorry if I ruined your mattress.”

“Just a pillow, don’t worry about it. Are you feeling lightheaded?” he asks, watching Hal’s face closely.

“No, not really.” He holds up his hands. “I’m just a little shaky.”

Hal’s still standing upright, so Bruce is willing to believe him, at least to some degree. Doesn’t mean he won’t be taking precautions, though. “I’m going to help you up the stairs, okay?” He sees the beginning of protest in Hal’s face. “Lose any more blood in this house, and you and I are really going to have a problem.”

That gets him a little huff of laughter, so he hooks his arm under Hal’s and starts them forward. He says nothing at the slow pace, or the way Hal leans heavier and heavier against him.

“I don’t think these stairs are up to code,” Hal grumbles.

“They’re secret stairs, they don’t have to be,” he says, amused. “You’ll have lower stamina for a while, until your blood volume completely regenerates.”

“Guess I’m not hitting the club for a while,” Hal says with a wink, and Bruce decides it’s best not to respond. It’ll only encourage him.

He manages to get Hal all the way down the hallway to the guest bedroom, and he drops gratefully to the freshly-made bed, letting out a dramatic sigh. Bruce lifts the loosely-taped corner of the bandage, making sure there’s no leakage and the stitches haven’t been overly stressed.

“You’ll need to avoid doing anything strenuous while the edges of the wound are healing again,” he says, carefully taping it back in place.

“Yeah, I think the stairs proved my limits to me,” Hal says.

“I’m especially concerned about preserving the integrity of the stitches on your artery, which cannot be monitored. If they fail, you—”

“You’re really doing wonders for my blood pressure,” Hal says sharply, but he still lets Bruce pull down the covers, and help him carefully lay back. “You realize I didn’t intentionally tear out my stitches, right? You know that it was an accident, and I never intended to bleed all over your linens?”

He touches his fingers to Hal’s forehead, gently combing away the hair that’s fallen across it. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” At that, Hal’s expression shifts to something unreadable, and Bruce lifts his hand away. “Try to get some rest,” he says, and quietly closes the door behind him.

Hal wakes to bright sunlight, and blinks in confusion at the ceiling until everything slots together. His neck is throbbing, and he can’t turn his head even if he wanted to, because Bruce brought the weird pillow from the cave with him.

He shifts his whole body just a little, enough to see that there’s someone else in the room with him. Dick is in a chair by the bed, looking at something on his phone. He puts it down the moment he catches Hal’s movement, though.

“Hey, welcome back! You want to sit up?”

“Yes,” Hal says, and Dick cups a hand around the back of his neck, sliding his other arm around Hal’s shoulders and slowly lifting him up. He moves the weird pillow out of the way, and props him up on several others. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it seems like you might need someone looking out for you,” Dick says, shrugging. “Also, this was the only way to get Bruce to go to sleep.”

“Oh,” Hal says.

He’s tempted to ask if that hug in the cave had really happened, or if it was some sort of blood loss-induced hallucination. But of course Dick wouldn’t know. He hadn’t been there.

Bruce had looked so stern striding toward him, jaw set, and Hal had been tensing up for some kind of lecture, when instead he’d just…taken Hal into his arms. And Hal had been unable to resist swaying into him, taking the comfort he needed from the heat and strength of Bruce’s body. The way Bruce had held him, tightly but not too tight, had settled something in him, steadied him.

He hated to think he’d been that transparent, but it was clear that Bruce had seen what he needed and then begrudgingly provided it, if the embarrassed look as he pulled away was anything to go by. And Hal had felt ashamed then, of being cold and tired and lonely, of needing comfort. So he hadn’t wanted Bruce’s help, Bruce’s touch, as they made their way upstairs.

He’d just wanted Bruce to leave him alone.

But in the bedroom, when Bruce had stroked his hair with a strange softness in his features, he’d felt the shame evaporate.

“Tim was hoping you’d wake up on his shift, but it looks like I’m the lucky one,” Dick says, seemingly unbothered by Hal’s long silence. “I’m under orders to have you eat something as soon as you wake up. Are you feeling nauseous?”

“No,” Hal says. He’s not sure he’s hungry, either.

“Then let’s give it a try,” Dick says.

There’s a thermos right there on the bedside table, and Hal watches in amusement as Dick pours some into a mug and hands it over, then pours some more into the lid for himself. As an afterthought, he opens a drawer and pulls out a spoon, which he passes to Hal, along with some napkins.

“Mmm, chicken and lentil,” he says, taking a noisy sip. “Technically the soup is supposed to be just for you, so I hope we can keep this between us.”

Hal grins, amused, and takes a careful spoonful. It really is tasty. “If anybody asks, I was really hungry,” he says with a wink.

“I knew I could count on you,” Dick says, and pours himself a little more.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but Hal finally can’t help saying, “I just don’t understand why he’s doing this.”

“Who, Alfred? He loves feeding people.”

“No, Bruce. Why is he being nice to me?” Hal says, looking away from his soup to gauge Dick’s reaction. “I’m like, his least favorite member of the Justice League.”

Dick laughs then, a big friendly contagious laugh that makes Hal want to join in, even though he’s clearly being laughed at. “Is that what he told you?” he gets out, wheezing a little. “Oh, man.”

He waits until Dick’s mirth has tapered off before speaking again. “I don’t think I’m completely off-base, here. He almost never agrees with my plans, and he doesn’t think I do anything the way I should. Also, he’s weirdly annoyed by the glowing, which I can’t do anything about.”

“Bruce has a tendency to believe he knows best,” Dick says, shrugging. “It’s one of his short-comings as a person. And he tends to take on responsibility in order to limit the impact of failure on others. He feels he can manage that better.”

“That’s…kind of fucked up,” Hal says, shaking his head. “But you’re forgetting that we also argue a lot. Sometimes he clenches his jaw so hard, I think he’s going to crack his teeth.”

“He only argues with people he respects,” Dick says, grinning. “If he doesn’t respect you, he’ll just straight up walk away from the conversation. Or, if he can’t leave, he absolutely will not engage. He’ll just stare blankly. It really made those society parties entertaining when I was a kid, let me tell you.”

“Well, even if I’m not his least favorite, I still don’t get why he’s doing all this,” he says, gesturing broadly. “He could have just hired a nurse to check on me at my apartment. He didn’t have to let me stay in his guest room.”

“I know it’s hard to believe that a man who dresses as a giant bat possesses a lot of human empathy, but he really does,” Dick says, pouring the rest of the soup into Hal’s mug. “He cares about other people.”

Hal narrows his eyes. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“It’s not a question for me to answer,” Dick says easily. “Finish your soup. I have some pain medicine for you.”

Hal’s neck twinges sharply every time he forgets himself and automatically tries to dip his head down to meet the spoon he’s lifting, and it has certainly slowed his progress in eating. He keeps leaning his body further forward instead, because he doesn’t want to spill soup down his front. He knows he must look ridiculous, though, and it’s a credit to Dick that he keeps a straight face during the process. When there’s nothing left but broth, he manages to tip most of it into his mouth.

He hadn’t thought he was hungry, but he suddenly feels much better.

“Okay,” Dick says, taking the mug and spoon back from him. “Do you want some iced tea? Alfred thinks it’s an abomination, but we keep making it anyway.”

“Sure,” Hal says, and Dick returns shortly with a glass of tea and several pills. He takes them, and shifts around in bed. The throbbing in his neck is making him feel restless. “Hey, am I allowed to go for a walk, or am I supposed to stay in bed?”

“Frequent movement is key to preventing DVTs,” Dick says seriously in a perfect public-service-announcement voice, then grins. “Yeah, you can get up. Just let me check your dressing first.”

He waits patiently as Dick gathers the necessary supplies, then has to hide his wince as he starts working. He’s sure Dick isn’t being rough on purpose, but he’s not as deft or careful as Bruce is, either. It’s strange, to suddenly be aware of a kindness you didn’t know you were receiving.

When he’s finished, Dick has Hal dangle his legs over the side of the bed for a few minutes before he stands, explaining that it will help with lightheadedness in a rote way that implies he’s said it dozens of times. Even then, he keeps a light hold on Hal’s arms when he stands, watching carefully.

“I’m good,” Hal says, once he’s sure. “Let’s go.”

Dick walks him slowly through the house, and then out to the back porch and the broad stretch of lawn beyond it. Hal tries to listen to Dick’s friendly voice, tries to pay attention to what he’s saying, but finds his thoughts continually returning to Bruce, and he knows he’s not holding up his end of the conversation at all.

If Dick notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.

He slept much longer than he intended, and the first thing he does is check on Hal. He finds him propped up in bed, frowning at his phone.

“I notified the league of the status of your injury, and told them you’d need some time to recover before they visit again. However, I didn’t notify Carol, in case you wanted to do that yourself.” He glances at his watch. “It’s not too late to invite her to dinner.”

Hal gives him an odd look. “Why? She already knows it’ll be a while before I can fly again, and she’s busy getting all of my scheduled flights covered. She doesn’t need to waste time hanging out with me.”

There’s a flutter of hope in Bruce’s chest, and he works to keep the surprise off his face. It certainly doesn’t sound as if their relationship has been rekindled. “I see,” he says.

Hal shoots him a sly look. “And just so you know, she’s planning to sue the hell out of NeoJet. Might be useful information to someone looking to purchase the company.”

“Considering the harm done to a senior pilot, I would expect nothing less.”

“And because I know it’ll piss you off if I don’t tell you, I took the flight knowing that NeoJet’s in-house test pilot had been injured the week before, on a different aircraft,” Hal says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he’s facing Bruce directly. “That one was a landing gear malfunction.”

It had made him angry, when he’d found out last night, idly researching the company while Hal lay recovering in the medbay. Years of raising vigilante children had taught him that no matter how many times he attempted to exert control, it wouldn’t stop someone from doing something reckless if they had their mind set on it.

Knowing this didn’t always stop him from trying.

Instead of holding on his anger and confronting Hal when he’d woken up, he had broken a keyboard instead. They always kept plenty of extras around.

And the fact was, it was a useless argument to have anyway, because he’d never be able to talk Hal out of taking risks, especially those involved with flying. Taking risks was essentially Hal’s entire personality.

It was essentially his, too, but Bruce liked to think the risks he took were far more calculated.

Hal is clearly not expecting the long silence, and waits Bruce out for a few minutes before continuing. “Honestly, I’m glad it was me in that cockpit. Someone else might not have been able to land it or eject. So, even though my decision to take it on means I’m grounded for a while, I’m glad I did it.”

The irritating part is that he’s right. Hal is an exceptional pilot, someone truly made to fly, and that talent combined with the power of the green lantern ring was likely what allowed him to make it back to the runway.

Bruce idly rubs at the center of his forehead, where a headache is starting. “Agreed,” he says, even though it hurts.

“Besides, we’ll go through all of NeoJet’s prototypes with a fine-tooth comb. Make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else,” Hal says firmly.

Bruce nods, a little surprised at the easy way Hal includes him. “Of course,” he says, and Hal gives him a breathtaking grin in response.

He’s in trouble.

When Hal’s been staying at the manor for nearly a week, Bruce drives him to his apartment to pick up a few things. Hal doesn’t exactly ask him to, but it’s clear that he’s tired of wearing other people’s clothes.

Hal dozes most of the way there, only waking when they’re a few blocks away.

He helps Hal clean out the spoiled food in the fridge—there’s not much left, and he makes a mental note to have it restocked before Hal returns. Then he waits patiently in the living room while Hal packs a small bag in the bedroom.

Hal’s awake for the drive back, and is slowly, carefully working on stretching the muscles in his neck. He alternates between looking out the window, and gradually turning his head toward Bruce. The deliberateness of the gesture makes the skin of his cheek and neck tingle, almost like being touched, even though Hal probably isn’t looking at him at all.

Certainly not the way he’d like Hal to look at him, anyway.

“Do I actually need to go to that follow-up appointment next week? Can’t you or Alfred take my stitches out?” Hal asks as he turns again toward Bruce.

“We can. But you need imaging done of your neck, to make sure the artery is healing properly, and there’s no aneurysm forming.”

Hal automatically reaches up to touch his neck. “Sounds like something important to know before I get back in a plane.”

“Extremely important,” Bruce says firmly.

Hal sits with that for a while, looking away and then back again in silence, until he says suddenly, “Hey, what’s the deal with Clark? He was giving me some weird looks yesterday.”

Bruce had invited everyone over to see Hal for themselves, because the endless texts for status updates had gotten tiresome. They’d all had dinner and drinks at the manor—the justice league would take any excuse for a party—and everyone seemed to want to get their hands on Hal. That had gotten tiresome, too.

And he’d caught Clark looking rather intently at Hal for most of the night, but he’d hoped Hal hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sure he’s just worried about you,” Bruce says mildly. “It’s unusual for one of us to be injured as a civilian.”

“I guess,” Hal says. “But he also pulled me aside and gave me a very passionate speech about taking chances, and appreciating a rare opportunity. I have no idea what that was about. Do you?”

When Bruce glances over, he finds Hal’s eyes sharply on his own, and he winces inwardly. There’s a running joke between himself and Clark that neither one of them is particularly subtle, but Bruce regularly argues that Clark is worse. This is a case in point.

He’s been handling his attraction to Hal just fine for a while now, and he doesn’t need Clark meddling.

“Clark gets strange ideas in his head sometimes,” he says, shrugging. “It’s best to ignore him.”

“You know you can’t ignore things forever, right? That doesn’t actually solve anything,” Hal says, and when Bruce takes another glance, he looks nothing but amused.

Bruce keeps tending to Hal’s wound twice a day, every day. Hal even seeks him out for it, sometimes waiting in the cave until Bruce is finished working, or laying sprawled on the couch next to him while Bruce answers emails. Much of the time, Hal sits backward in a chair while Bruce cleans and rebandages him, but the times when he’s tired he sits propped up in bed, so he can easily go sleep when Bruce is finished.

The inflammation and bruising have both receded, and the wound edges are healing well. Bruce is pleased with the progress, and starts leaving it uncovered for several hours a day, even though Hal can’t resist lightly touching the line of sutures from time to time.

And as Hal continues to stretch his injured neck muscles, it becomes obvious when Hal is looking at him. He’ll be bent close, carefully cleaning the skin between the stitches, when he’ll see the slight tilt of Hal’s jaw, the small shift beneath hands as Hal turns toward him, just a little.

In the beginning, it’s only for a few seconds before he’s looking away again, and Bruce would almost think he’s imagining it. But every time it happens, Hal’s gaze seems to linger a little longer. At first, he thinks maybe Hal has something he wants to say, or a question he wants to ask. But he just stays silent.

Bruce cleans, applies ointment and replaces the bandage, quietly narrating his actions as he does, and for nearly the entire time, Hal just…looks at him. Is it judgement? Curiosity? Annoyance?

There’s only so long he can go without finding out the answer.

He gathers his supplies and finds Hal propped against the headboard, though he doesn’t seem tired. His head is tilted up toward the ceiling, like he’s fascinated by the crown molding, as Bruce pulls a chair up and starts to work.

It’s not long before there’s the telltale flex of muscle in Hal’s neck as his head turns. He can almost feel Hal’s gaze like a weight, but he keeps steadily cleaning. It’s not until he’s smoothing tape around the bandage that he says mildly, “Something wrong with my face?”

“No, absolutely nothing wrong with your face,” Hal says, hastily kicking the blankets off his feet and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His knees brush against Bruce’s, and he sways forward, his hand landing on Bruce’s thigh to steady himself.

In the late afternoon light, Hal’s eyes are a warm golden-brown, seeming almost to be lit from within. There is a lock of shining hair that’s fallen across his forehead, and a hint of a smile on his lips. He is almost painfully beautiful, and Bruce can’t look away.

Hal sways even closer then, says, “Can I kiss you?”

And something in Bruce’s face must say yes, even if he can’t muster up the word, because Hal is leaning in and kissing him then. The kiss is sweet, simply wonderful, as is the way Hal’s hand gently cradles his jaw, thumb stroking across his cheek.

“Do you want to go on a date?” he asks when Hal pulls away, so flustered that he’s only able to speak on autopilot. His lips are still tingling.

“I hope by ‘date’ you mean ‘have dinner in the dining room,’ because I don’t think I’m up for much else,” Hal says, amused.

“Sure,” he manages to get out before Hal is kissing him again.

“I’m sure your first dates usually end more excitingly than this one, but I have to admit I’m pretty satisfied,” Hal says.

“I think it’s ending perfectly,” Bruce rumbles out, and there’s something strange in his voice, a warmth Hal hasn’t heard before.

After dinner and dessert and a few lingering touches, Hal had convinced Bruce to get into his bed. When Bruce had laid there on his back, looking up at him questioningly, for just a moment Hal had strongly wished they could do something that involved some exertion. Instead, he’d curled up against Bruce’s side, head pillowed on his chest.

In the few times he’d had a moment of weakness and actually imagined what it’d be like to be in a relationship with Bruce, he always figured it wouldn’t work, because Bruce always seemed so distant and withdrawn. Untouchable. Hal knew himself well enough to know that he needed a lot of physical affection in relationships, and since it was clear that was off the table, had tried to ignore his attraction.

But his stay at the manor had certainly put things in perspective.

“You know, for someone that looks like he could bench-press a truck, you’re surprisingly comfortable,” he says, nuzzling a little closer.

“Muscle is soft when it’s not being used,” Bruce says, tucking the blankets around them.

Hal would like to bask in the contentment of finally being comfortable and warm, but there are more important matters at hand. “I just want you to know, for the record, that I knew exactly what Clark was trying to do. He’s not subtle at all, but he is a good friend. He kept trying to tell me how great you were without actually, you know, telling me,” Hal says, laughing. “And I realized I would have to be the one to make a move, because you were never going to do it.”

“I was,” Bruce starts, but Hal interrupts him.

“I gave you so many opportunities, spent so much time waiting for you to realize how kissable I looked, but clearly you can’t take a hint. Some detective you are,” Hal says, and Bruce laughs. Even though it jostles his head, it’s lovely to hear.

“It’s easier to interpret a person’s actions when you can view them objectively,” Bruce says. “And I couldn’t do that with you. I couldn’t be sure what I thought I was observing wasn’t just wishful thinking. It seemed wiser to bide my time and continue to gather information.”

“What, forever?”

“I was going to wait until you’d recovered,” Bruce protests.

“Sure you were,” Hal says, lightly patting Bruce’s chest. He leaves his hand there, because it’s nice. “Luckily, I cracked the case.”

“Using those extremely subtle clues,” Bruce says. “Do me a favor, and never let Clark know it actually worked.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Hal says, amused.

He’d like to keep teasing Bruce, but despite his best efforts his eyes are getting harder to keep open. “I’m going to fall asleep on you,” he says against Bruce’s chest.

“I don’t mind,” Bruce says quietly.

“You know, if this thing works out between us, I’ll probably fall asleep on you a lot,” Hal ventures.

Bruce’s hand moves then, and begins to stroke soothingly through Hal’s hair. “Even better,” he says, and Hal can hear the smile in his voice.

***

#batlantern #my fic #here have 10k of pining

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manjiroro · 3 years

Note

congrats on 100 followers! i’d like to req akutagawa (if you write for him) from bungou stray dogs or inui seishu from tokrev, umbrella, hurt/comfort but fluff is okay as well, and gender neutral pronouns :)

100 milestone event (closed!!)

character: akutagawa

content: fluff to angst?, hurt, gender neutral

helloo thank you for participating in the event! i decided to do akutagawa since ive not written anything for him hehe i hope you would like how i write this and thank you for the support!

i apologise for any mistakes and i hope you enjoy~~

Rain has been pouring more than often in the city of Yokohama. You sat in the office of the Armed Detective agency, slaving away as you typed out a report on the recent case that you were involved in. You sighed, back aching from your slouched position for the past two hours. The rain softly hits the windows, giving you a somewhat cozy feeling from inside the office.

You seemed to have gotten distracted when your attention shifted to the bandaged man sitting next to you, spinning around in his swivel chair as he whines about how tired he is.

“Dazai! Quit whining and actually do your work! You’ve been complaining about this for the past hour!”

Kunikida would yell which just makes Dazai whine louder. You sighed, getting up from your seat and walking out of the office, telling Kunikida that you were just going out for fresh air.

You grabbed onto your coat and an umbrella before heading out on the pouring streets. Yokohama seemed to look beautiful in the rain, little to no people walking along the streets and shops illuminated. At times like these, you couldn’t help but let your mind free and let your feet take you to wherever they wanted to go.

But you seemed to have let your mind wandered off too far, not realising that an incoming van was a few inches away from your face as you crossed the road. At that point, it was too late for you to move out of the way, so you closed your eyes to brace for impact. But, you weren’t expecting impact to hit you from the side. You slowly opened your eyes, to see yourself laying on the other side of the road, unharmed.

“Oi, what were you doing standing there, did you really wish to die that badlly?”

Looking up, a shiver went down your spine. The man standing in front of you was the widely feared port mafia’s member, Akutagawa Ryunosuke. You quickly scrambled to your feet, maintaining a distance from you, you were afraid that he might do something to harm you. But you soon came to the realisation that this man was the one who saved you.

“Why.. did you save me?”

You were curious, why would a port mafia member, who was ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill, come to save your life?

“Tch, don’t get the wrong idea. I was only passing by and if I didn’t do anything about it, I might get in trouble as well.”

Akutagawa replied, he looked fairly annoyed and was about to turn away when you spoke up,

“Uhm! Thank you! I’m sorry for causing you any unnecessary trouble.”

You bowed to him.

“At least let me return the favor! You.. did save my life after all.”

You said that without thought. Are you insane? Trying to make up to a rival of your agency. What if he takes advantage of the situation and tries to kill you?

“Why are you going through this much trouble? You’re from the agency aren’t you.”

Akutagawa turned back around to face you. You didn’t know why but heat started rising to your cheeks, was he always that attractive?

“Well, it’s the least I could do for you saving my life.”

Akutagawa sighed, walking up to you, picking up your umbrella in the process. He shelters the both of you with the umbrella, making you tense up slightly from how close he was to you now.

“If I walk away, you’re just going to keep annoying me. So, how about getting me a coffee.”

He had an unbothered, slightly irritated look on his face. But you smiled back at him, nodding and taking hold of his hand, leading him to your favourite coffee shop. The whole time, Akutagawa was holding up the umbrella, ensuring that the both of you wouldn’t get even more wet. You bought him a coffee and bought one for yourself as well, thanking him one last time before going your separate ways. Something about Akutagawa seemed to have made your heart beat faster. Holding onto your coffee tighter as you remembered how attractive he looked in the rain. You might have started falling for Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

This was dangerous, if anyone were to find out that you had caught feelings for a member of the port mafia, you could risk losing your job. You tried hard to suppress your growing emotions towards him, but they can only be hidden for so long before they explode. Day and night, thoughts of Akutagawa and the day he saved you kept replaying in your head. You felt miserable, hopeless even, you barely even know him and he is a ruthless murderer nonetheless, why would you even feel this way towards him?

It had been exactly a week after the accident, it was still pouring in Yokohama and you were sat in your usual position, typing away your report for the day. But, you were distracted, you couldn't focus on your work at all. Accepting that you weren’t going to get any work done, you stood up and went out. Maybe a walk in the rain would clear your mind off of things.

This time, you didn’t bother bringing an umbrella, you wanted to feel the raindrops hit your skin. You walked around mindlessly, getting weird stares along the way. You eventually made your way to a park and sat on a bench, looking out at the sea. You stared off into space when you could no longer feel the raindrops against your skin. Looking up, you saw an umbrella sheltered over you.

“What’s with you and the rain? Are you trying to catch a cold?”

Looking to the source of the remark, your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat. It was the man who was running around in your mind the past week, standing beside you with his usual irritated expression on you. You immediately got to your feet while you stared at him, trying to think of what to say to him.

“You’re really annoying you know that.”

He commented before giving you his umbrella, turning away to leave once again. Panic runs through your body, he’s going to leave and you might never see him again.

“I like you!”

You blurted out, making him stop in his tracks.

“Excuse me?”

“I.. said I.. like you, Akutagawa.”

He turned to you, his expression was unreadable, you can’t tell what he was feeling at that moment.

“I don’t feel the same.”

He simply states, making you feel a pang in your heart.

“Are you dumb? Why would you have feelings for me? You’re part of the agency and I’m part of the mafia, We’re not compatible and we’ll never be.”

“Then why did you save me? You could’ve just walked away and left me there for dead, why would you, a mafia member, save a member of the agency?”

You spat at him, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you, sadness, betrayal, anger, all filled your mind.

“Hah? I told you before didn’t I, I saved you not for your benefit but for mine. Anyone could take that advantage to put the blame on me and it’ll put me in trouble!”

You could tell that he was getting angry and tears were falling from your eyes.

“God, if I knew this would happen, I would just get into trouble. I never should’ve saved you.”

He seethed, before turning his back on you.

“I don’t like you, y/n, and I never will.”

Those were his last words before he walked away, leaving you clutching onto the umbrella he gave you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched his figure grow smaller. You knew better than to fall for a mafia member.

❥ masterlist

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worksby-d · 3 years

Note

hello bby 🥺 can i request something real fluffy (character of ur choice) like some snuggles or tickles or a shared bath, ive been feeling a lil down and just thought this would be so cute! also i LOVE your writing❤️

hi there! i'm so sorry you were feeling down, and i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this <3 it’s been a few weeks since i received this i think, so i hope you're feeling better now!

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you’ve been feeling kinda down lately, which steve catches on to, so he does his best to just let you know he's there for you

warnings: a lil sadness, fatigue

word count: ~600

*✧･��

it's the third evening in a row he’s come home and found you asleep with your work clothes on still, telling him you've been there since you got home a few hours ago

the past two nights he’s woken you up long enough to get you to eat something before you go back to bed

but tonight he’s determined to do a little more for you

quietly shuffling across the room, he kneels beside the bed, resting his hand on your upper arm, giving a gentle squeeze while whispering your name

“hm?” you groan softly

“you okay sweetheart?”

“‘m just tired,” you mumble

you miss it since you haven't opened your eyes, but his lips turn into a sad smile. “i'm gonna run us a bath, okay? i’ll be right back,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom

you doze back off until he’s gently shaking you awake again a couple minutes later

“can you come with me doll? wanna get you out of these clothes and help you relax”

you genuinely don't feel like getting out of bed, but you muster the energy and sit up, so steve takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where he has the bath ready and some candles lit

standing there, you rub your eyes a bit as he begins to help you strip out of your clothes

when they're all off, you climb into the tub, patiently waiting as he takes his own clothes off to join you

he sits behind you so your back is against his chest, and he wraps his arms around your middle, hugging you close

“what's been going on the last couple days?” he carefully asks, resting his chin on your shoulder

“i don't know,” you sigh quietly. “just feeling a little down. i think it's just stress and exhaustion. maybe it's random, who knows,” you shrug

“okay,” he whispers, deciding against pressing any further. “you know i'm always here if you need to talk”

“i know stevie,” you smile. “thank you”

when the water starts to become cold, he reluctantly gets out, drying himself off and throwing on a pair of sweats before handing you a fluffy towel so you can get out too

while you dry off, he finds your pajamas to bring to you and tells you to put them on and get in bed while he grabs something

once you've gotten comfy in bed, he comes back in the room with two bowls of your favorite ice cream

“figured you're not very hungry, but this is better than nothing,” he offers

“oooh yes please,” you sing, holding out your grabby hands until he hands you a bowl

you both scarf down the ice cream in silence, setting the bowls on your respective nightstands, too lazy to take them to the kitchen

he's the first to lay down, holding his arm out as an invitation for you to snuggle up to his side, so you join him, resting your head on his chest

once you’re settled, he wraps his arms around you, letting his hands stroke your back soothingly

“it’ll get better,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “i love you”

“i love you too steve”

~~~

Tag list: @chris-butt @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @princess-evans-addict @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @bluemusickid @sunflowercaptian @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @flovds @starlightcrystalline @stargazingfangirl18 @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #chris evans fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans drabble #chris evans blurb #steve rogers x you #requested #don't mind me trying to play catch up after falling severely behind on requests

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lucky-peoqle · 4 years

Text

unwanted guests | d.m.

pairings: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader, somewhat platonic!weasley twins (fred is pretty flirty😁)x hufflepuff!reader, platonic!cedric diggory x reader, and platonic!zacharias smith x reader.

summary: y/n the hufflepuff american student promised her housemates, cedric and zacharias, that she would watch them practice for their next match, she was accompanied by the infamous gryffindors, the weasley twins. as watching her house, she starts hearing whooping and hollering, she soon gets annoyed with the group of slytherins and confronts them.

warnings: some swearing, blood, pansy bodyshames reader

a/n: hello, ive bee super busy with school !! im currently obsessed with hp again :) hope u all enjoy this,, its a bit longer than usual. this is set during goblet of fire !! :) very unedited and kinda rushed :/ sorry

the temperature was pretty cold on this particular fall day, as the y/h/c hufflepuff sat outside, writing in a journal she kept, looking up to answer her housemate and one of her best friend, cedric diggory's questions.

"so, will you come? zacharias thought it would be a good idea," he said, motioning to the blonde hufflepuff boy who was watching from afar.

"hm? oh, uh, sure! if it makes you two happy," she looked up from her journal, smiling at the brunette, then the blonde.

"great! i'll tell him when we get to lunch."

and with that, the bell rang, making the other people outside with you get up and head inside to the great hall.

the two of you got up, and started making your way to the great hall, colored robes passing you by. "did you ever open up the golden dragon egg?" you said, looking up at him.

"yeah! that reminds me, i have to tell harry about that. thanks," he smiled.

you smiled back, "potter? you're telling him how to open it?"

"why not, y'know. it's the least i could do," he shrugged.

"that's so sweet! i'm glad you two are getting along."

by now you were in the great hall, walking past the gryffindor table to your table, making eye contact with the golden trio and weasley twins as you passed by with your best friend.

you were in the same year as the golden trio, meeting them the first day on the train, them finding you american accent amusing, but they got use to it pretty fast. then they introduced you to ron's twin brothers, fred and george, they were drawn to you instantly, poking fun of your accent from time to time.

last but not least, you met cedric. you met cedric in the common room your second day of hogwarts. you had drifted to sleep, one of you housemates cats curled on your lap, and cedric had woken you, helping you back to bed. ever since then you had been best friends ever since.

you took your sear next to cedric, zacharias smith, another close friend of yours, sat across from the two of you.

"zach! good news, y/n is coming to watch us practice tomorrow," the brunette smiled brightly.

"great! i can't wait to show off to you, maybe it'll make you fall for me instead of that weasley twin," he said jokingly.

"who? fred?" she chuckled, "zach, you're kidding right? freddies just a friend. sure we flirt, but that's what friends do, right?"

"you have a weird interpretation of friendship y/n/n," zach stifled a laugh.

you rolled your eyes, turning your head towards cedric, who was looking at the ravenclaw table, that was standing next to your table. you followed his eyesight that was met with cho chang.

"ced is making googly eyes at his girlfriend again," you laugh, making him turn his attention to you.

"so what? don't act like i didn't see you smiling at fred weasley."

"i smiled at all of them! fred and i don't have feelings for each other," she huffed.

"suree," zacharias said in a sing song voice.

you shook your head, poking your food around your plate, looking across the ravenclaw table to the slytherin table. you saw draco malfoy joking with his friends, his cold grey eyes drifting to meet your warm y/e/c ones. his eyes grew colder once they finally met yours. you softly smiled at him and his eyes grew softer, and he quickly turned his attention back to his group of friends.

'huh, weird,' you thought, turning your attention back to cedric and zacharias.

the day quickly passed, ending like it always does. going into the hufflepuff common room, it being filled with muggle and non-muggle type plants, the warm fireplace going. you made your way up to your dorm you shared with hannah abbott. changing out of your robs and falling asleep quickly.

you woke up, the warm fall sun peeking through the window of your dorm. you looked over at hannah, who had been awake but reading, it was still a bit early so breakfast wouldn't be ready yet. it was saturday after all, so no need to worry about classes.

"morning," you mumbled tiredly to hannah.

"good morning!" she put her book down, "i came back late last night from study with ernie and you were out like a light!"

"yeah, last night was kinda of tiring," you chuckled, sitting up, "why are you up so early anyway?"

"i thought we could go down to the great hall together, we've been so busy and rarely get to talk, why not catch up on our way down there yeah?"

"sure! that sounds lovely," you smile, getting up from your bed.

the two of you got ready for the day, putting on your hufflepuff robes, and made your way down to the common room. only a few people were sat in the common room, a few waving and bidding you good morning as you passed by.

you two walked out of the common room and head up to the great hall. "so how have you been?" hannah asked beside you.

"i've been well! busy with getting cedric through the tournament, y'know..."

"yeah, that must be though."

"it isn't actually! im extremely proud of him, i know he'll win this."

"i really hope he does! finally a hufflepuff getting the recognition they deserve," hannah smiled.

"newt scamander is pretty cool," you smiled, "i take great pride in being as the same house as him."

hannah shrugged, "yeah, very interesting man, he is. isn't loony lovegood related to him?"

"don't call her that, she's very nice. but, i believe so, in some way."

by now, you're in the great hall, making your to your table. you continue to chat till hannah departs from you to sit with susan bones and leanne, who were chatting amongst themselves.

you quickly find cedric, who was chatting with justin finch-fletchley. you sat next to him and started putting food on your plate. he heard you and turned your attention on you.

"good morning y/n/n," he smiled brightly.

"good morning ced, how're you?"

"great! excited for practice today."

you two chatted for the rest of breakfast, by the end of it, you were stuffed. you looked at the slytherin table, remembering the look draco malfoy gave you. you spotted him, he was talking to crabbe, goyle, and pansy, laughing, smiling, he looked happy.

draco turned his head to answer someone's question, while doing so, he caught you staring. you blushed brightly, hesitating before giving you a smile. he returned the gesture with one of his iconic smug smirks.

you looked away, turning your attention to cedric, "practice starts soon, i should get ready. see you out there?"

you nodded with a smile, and he smiled back, getting up and leaving the great hall.

you got up after a bit of thinking, and made your way to your common room to grab your journal and scarf, since it would be chilly out.

once you did so, you made your way back up the stairs, going through corridor to corridor.

you were walking in peaceful silence, until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and lift you up, spinning you around.

you let out a laugh as the two head headed boys laughed loudly, "fred weasley! put me down!"

"what's the magic word?"

"please!"

"no, but close enough," he said, dropping you, making you land on your butt.

"ouch! fred! george! what were you thinking?"

"we weren't! so what are you up to?" george chuckled.

"i'm going to watch cedric and zacharias practice," you smile, "wanna come? i wouldn't mind the company."

"sure!" the boys said together.

you're little group of three walked to the quidditch posts, your yellow and black scarf clashing with their red and yellow ones. fred had thrown an arm around you shoulder.

you sat down in the middle of the twins, fred's arm sitting around you. you were right, it was chilly, but it was nice. this was your favorite time of year.

you watched as cedric and zacharias flew around, catching the ball or passing it to another teammate. zacharias caught sight of you, and winked, motioning to the arm around your shoulder. you just stuck your tounge out in response.

the time you spent was fun, until a certain group of slytherins decided to crash the practice. you rolled your eyes as the began to yell and laugh at them, distracting the players.

"ignore them," george said, "they have no brains, nor can they play fair."

you chuckled at that, "you're right on that one."

the four slytherins were still yelling, it was very annoying. fred and george reassuring you to leave them alone and they'll get bored and leave soon.

you kept your temper, watching your house practice. it was going fine, until draco yelled something towards cedric that made your best friend look at him, the ball hitting him right in the face, knocking cedric off his broom.

you gasp as you got up quickly, looking over the railing, watching cedric get up from his spot on the ground, wiping his now bloodied nose.

you turn to malfoy, who was staring in disbelief, but always laughing. pansy parkinson was shrieking out laughter, it hurt your ears. you walk up to the four, george and fred calling out to you to stop.

"hey!"

the four turned towards you, laughing still.

"what do you want, l/n?" draco asked.

"you ass! cedric could have gotten hurt! he's never done anything to you! you distracted him on purpose so that you wouldn't have to face loosing to him in our next quidditch match against slytherin!"

"and so what? it's not like you can stop us from coming up here during their practice," pansy laughed. "you're just a pathetic little hufflepuff, well i wouldn't say little... your robes make you look fat."

you took a step back, you had always been insecure about your weight and body image. you began to tear up. george and fred too far away to hear what was going on. you opened your mouth to defend yourself, but nothing came out except a small squeak.

pansy, crabbe, and goyle all let out shrieks of laughter. you couldn't let them see you cry, so you ran. you heard shouting behind you. draco yelling something, and the twins shouting after you, following you.

you had lost them though, finding yourself in moaning myrtles bathroom. you said down the wall, letting out sob after sob. you sat there crying for a while, until you heard someone come in.

"leave me alone, you're unwanted here." you choke out, looking away from them.

"sorry about what pansy said back there, i told her since the start of third year, you were off limits."

you turn around, seeing the platinum blonde slytherin. "off limits?"

"from us bullying you, she's been jealous of you since."

"jealous? of me? what are you talking about?"

draco took a seat next to you, "i've fancied you for a while, just never had the courage to tell you. i thought you liked one of the weasley twins honestly."

you shook you head, "or were you just too ashamed to tell me since im a pathetic hufflepuff?" you sniffed.

"what? no, no! that's not it, i was just scared. I didn't want to be rejected, i guess."

"the thing back there with cedric, you're an ass for that."

"i know, i didn't mean for him to get knocked off his broom, i deserved to get yelled at."

you sat in comfortable silence for a while, not knowing what to say. pansy's words making their way back into your thoughts.

"pansy was right."

draco laughed, "about?"

"me being fat, my robes look horrible on me."

"don't say that! y/n, you're on of the most beautiful people i've ever seen walk this earth," draco said looking over at you.

"why the sudden urge to tell me about your feelings?"

"because it felt right... like yesterday and this morning, you smiled at me and it felt like it was time," he sighed.

you smiled over at him, and grabbed his hand. he intertwined your fingers and smiled back. he began to lean in, until his lips met yours, fireworks going off. you pulled away, your face bright read.

"who would of thought, me, draco malfoy, slytherin prince, dating a hufflepuff..."

"the world works in crazy ways," you smile, "i'm glad you came looking for me."

"so am i, y/n, so am i."

end.

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