#i’m sick and will probably be free for the next couple of days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

immajustvibehere · 9 months

Note

Hi there! You’re stuff is always sooo good! I saw your post asking for some inspo.

What if Arthur has a special night planned with the reader, but he has a bunch of tasks to do before he is free to meet her? The whole day goes from one bad job to then next, and all he wants to do is meet her later for this perfect night. And when he finally gets to the hotel where he’s supposed to meet her, he’s filthy, banged up, and exhausted. He has lost almost all his money that he needed to treat her to a perfect night by the time he gets there.

How would it go from there?

Simple Nights Spent Together

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

Summary: Reader wants Arthur to understand that every time they get to spend with him is precious :)

fluffy little good night story, thanks for the request!

1100 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

Arthur slowly opened the door to the hotel room he knew you’d to be in. This was the same room the two of you always occupied whenever you managed to snatch a few precious moments away from camp, often for some undisturbed intimacy. But today turned out slightly different than normally. The day didn't really go according to plan and now Arthur felt like he had failed you. Before he gave the door a final push, he looked at himself. Dirty, knuckles stained with dried blood and a bad conscience that the guy who shot and hit his satchel got away with it. It had been a grim realisation that hit him a tad too late, when he discovered the gaping hole in his satchel. His money and a collection of other possessions that had accumulated were now lost somewhere on the sprawling prairie.

The door wasn’t fully open yet, but Arthur hesitated.

"Y/N?", he whispered. The tone of his voice was enough to suggest that something wasn’t right. You had grown restless over the past hour, because the time you had agreed upon was long past and you had feared the worst. So as soon as you saw the door open and heard his voice, you discarded the book you had been reading and sat up.

"Finally! You okay?", you walked to the door, doing Arthur the service of opening it fully and letting him in. His shame would've probably prevented him to do so.

"'m really sorry...", he mumbled, not even looking you in the eyes. You didn't answer, still busy with scanning him for serious injuries, though glad you found none. Arthur took off his head to fiddle it awkwardly between his fingers, revealing his unkempt hair.

"Nothing to be sorry for, I can see that you've been held up", you offered a little smile before standing on your tiptoes and planting a peck on the cheek.

"I wanted to go clean myself up first, but I didn't wanna be any later then I already was...", for some moments, Arthur had even considered not turning up at all, but he knew the consequences of this would have been you worried sick for the entire night.

You helped Arthur out of his coat: "That's okay. Go get a bath now, I'll stay awake and wait."

"Yes, Ma'am", Arthur said unironically. He was about to walk out when he stopped. Holding up his butchered satchel. He would have to ask you for money. He turned around, his cheeks blushing in shame.

"Oh no! What happened!", you immediately took the satchel and looked at the damage. It felt light, the hole was big enough to drain it of most its contents.

"Bullet hit it..."

"Is your journal-"

"Had it in my saddle bag", Arthur explained briefly, "I-uhm...do ya have some change on ya?"

You gave him a couple of dollars without hesitation: "I'll get it fixed first thing tomorrow, I promise. Oh and-", Arthur had started to walk off, "Have you eaten?"

"I’m not hungry", Arthur replied, accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Not hungry' was a subtle code for 'I haven't eaten all day, but please don't bother for me'. But of course, you did. The lamb chops you got from the saloon were done and you had carried them to the room only a minute before Arthur returned, his damp hair slicked back.

"Yer really shouldn't have...", Arthur commented when he saw the loaded plate and two bottles of beer.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I planned on eating that alone...", you grinned as Arthur approached you and gave you a quick kiss. He smelt pleasantly like soup, though the clothes he wore still gave the familiar odour of soil and pines. Arthur had tasted the meat that on your lips – apparently you had tried some – and sat down willingly. Eagerly, he finished the plate.

His shoulders were slouched, and you could tell by how slowly he blinked that he was exhausted and ready for some sleep.

"'m real sorry, darlin'...", Arthur sighed, "I really had something different planned for tonight than just sleeping..."

Arthur was hinting at some fun and intimacy, but you weren't even a little bit disappointed that none of this would be happening.

"Arthur", you leaned forward as your lips curled into a soft smile, "This is the perfect night."

The man looked at you like you were telling a stupid joke.

"Firstly...", you started and handed him a wet rag to clean his hands which glistened in fat, "you're alive. Can't take that for granted in this line of work, so this alone makes it a good night."

Then you helped him out of his clothes which he wouldn't need for sleeping: "Secondly, you're here. You came. You had a horrible day, I can tell. But you still showed up and I really appreciate that. Makes it an even better night, because we get to share a bed."

Arthur would often get this warm tingly feeling when you cared for him in this way. Not that he frequently found himself in situations where he messed up or ruined a date night, but sometimes things were out of control, and you never made him feel like you didn't understand that. Without resistance, he allowed you to guide him onto the pillow, his whole body sinking into the bed in the process. With pleasure, he watched as you crawled on top of him. He just barely managed to lift his hands to place them on your hip.

"And lastly", you pressed a light kiss onto his cheek, "Do you have one healthy arm to spare?"

Arthur didn't understand this question, shooting you a quizzical look before checking out his arms: "Both of them lookin' fine to me."

"And now if you, Mr. Morgan, have at least one of those arms to spare for me tonight, so I might rest my head on them instead of the pillow, since I much prefer your arm, I'd call this a perfect night", you called out in a theatrical matter, before falling onto the mattress next to him and resting your head on his arm.

Arthur chuckled warmly, pulling you into an embrace. "You sure are something...", he mumbled.

"Most of all I'm just happy to have you", you replied, snuggling up to him.

A contented sigh escaped Arthur’s lips. If he weren’t so tired, he might have found the words to express what he felt. It was the sentiment that it was his turn to express how privileged he’s to have you.

"You know", Arthur whispered, his words slurred by the tiredness that washed over him, "I'm gonna make up for all of it tomorrow." He placed a suggestive kiss on your neck.

"Looking forward to it", you answered softly, well aware that sleep will claim you both in a few moments.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader

247 notes · View notes

kindlingkeen · 3 months

Note

do you have any good fic recs? i've just finished reading all of your fics (AMAZING btw i LOVE competent jason and you write him sooo well) and obviously you have good taste so i thought i might as well ask (i will say that i don't really do ship fics tho)

thank you! looking forward to what you have in store for jason and the batfam next!

First, thank you for the ask! And I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying my fics!! 😊 I’m on vacation this week and finally writing again (had a bit of a rough writer’s block patch). So hopefully I’ll be posting more content in the next couple of weeks.

Fic recs - boy do I ever. I will say, I have super varied tastes in fics, I’ll read just about anything Gen that’s Jason-centric, plus a few Jason ships (although I’m pretty picky about what actually makes it into my bookmarks). All of the fics I’m rec’ing below are Gen, although some might have flavors of a relationship (likely JayRoy since that’s my preferred pairing). I tried to pick a selection of different styles and tropes, so hopefully you find something you like. Almost all these authors have multiple fics I’ve loved, so look at their other works on ao3 for more great reading (you may need to be logged into ao3 to see some of them). Enjoy!

Fic recs

Glow in the Dark Stars by essspressso (stylesmakethefight)

This is a time travel fic that made me bawl ugly tears, like seriously bawl. Read if in need of a good cry.

The Cold Like Coming Home by cabezas_de_vaca

An interesting one-shot of Jason and Bruce finding their way back to each other.

More Chances Than Deserved 'Verse by Skalidra @skalidra

A series that starts out post batarang, Jason does not rejoin the family.

Gotham CPS by ebjameston

Not sure how to even describe this one, it’s pure hilarity told by an outsider POV.

Nests and Cages by LanternWisp, Lysical @lanternwisp

A series detailing Jason’s journey back to the family. The last installment of the series has probably the best reconciliation discussion between Jason and Bruce re: Bruce taking on another Robin that I’ve ever read.

Buy One Get One Free by Here_we_go

A series that starts with catatonic Jason. I love how Jason is written in this one so so much (especially the main first part), and there’s a short segment later in the series with Talia that’s lovely.

fever by r_astra @heyy-its-skip

One-shot. Quality batdad in the context of a sick fic

nightmares and daydreams by r_astra @heyy-its-skip

One-shot. Beware, there’s some heavy duty torture in this one. Jason & Tim isn’t usually my thing, but I really like their brief interaction in this one.

all the small weights by sparkycap

One-shot. More quality batdad, this time in the context of fear toxin

a (cat)astrophe in the making by mikkal

Part of a loosely connected series, if I’m remembering correctly. I’m a firm believer that Jason Todd needs a cat.

Red Hood by envysparkler @envysparkler

An amazing Jason rejoins the family, classic fix it, set early in Lost Days continuity. Envysparkler’s works are pretty much solely responsible for getting me into the Batfam. This fic in particular motivated me to start writing TPWC.

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies @batbirdies

De-aging fic, this isn’t my favorite trope, but of what’s out there, I like the dynamics in this one.

Things We Only Talk About After Dark by BabblingBookends

One-shot. More good batdad, but not fluffy like the other two above. I really like how Bruce is written in this one, how he struggles with the unknown.

Kidnapped! by Cerusee @cerusee

One-shot set in Jason’s Robin days. One of my favorites for father and son feels.

A MOMENT THAT'S HELD IN YOUR ARMS. by orpheusaki

More baby Robin Jay and good dad Bruce.

White Lighters / Afterglow by lurkinglurkerwholurks @lurkinglurkerwholurks

One-shot. Another one that legitimately made me cry.

Druthers by d_aia @e-alexandrescu

A really creative, not-your-typical-take on Jason rejoining the family. Sniper Jason is so frelling cool.

I linked the tumblr’s for the authors I know of. If you have any to add, leave them in the comments and I’ll update!

#keen converses #fic rec #ao3 #my fics #jason todd #batfam

63 notes · View notes

fandonnavyce · 4 months

Text

Jason in Wonderland

Crossover Danuary Day 4

Day 1 - Ben 10 Xover Tucker escapes Space Prison with the help of his two best friends

Day 2 - Atla Xover Hey, remember when Sokka got kidnapped into the Spirit World?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Slush kicks up in Jason’s wake as he stomps down Gotham’s street on Christmas Day. Icy hands are bunched up in their sleeves, his curled fists jammed into his jacket’s pockets. The freezing wind slaps his face and Jason’s pissed he can’t slap it back.

“I’M LATE, I’M LATE! FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE! NO TIME TO SAY HELLO, GOODBYE, I’M LATE, I’M LATE, I’M LATE!”

Speeding right past, and nearly bowling Jason over like a wrecking ball, a giant fucking rabbit thunders past. Jason stares in sheer astonishment as it hippity-hops and leaps into a massive green portal that Jason had apparently been too blind to notice until now.

Jason whips his head round to see if any other Gothamite is seeing this.

No one is seeing this.

And not in that ‘I see nothing cause that ain’t my business’ kind of way. His fellow Gothamite pedestrians are genuinely fully oblivious to the glowing hole in the fabric of reality and the giant anthropomorphic unseasonal Easter Bunny in their midst that had just bounced right into it.

(Warning Long Post)

Coming out from the green glowing portal was the head of a werewolf peeking out, then the rest of its bestial body (clothed in a ragged green tracksuit) follows.

"That's probably everyone," says the werewolf as it lingers in front of the portal. It turns to head back into the portal.

On sheer impulse, Jason sprints down the street. Jason can feel the attention he’s drawing. He's 6 foot tall, has the shoulders of a linebacker, and is pounding the pavement like there are lives on the line. His fellow Gothamites calmly adjust out of his way.

The werewolf disappears through the green portal. With a desperate leap, Jason charges in right after.

Jason feels the portal close behind him.

Line break

Then Jason is violently, painfully ill.

A burning sensation quickly builds inside his chest. A blistering heat is searing his heart. His heart thrashes in agony. Jason doubles over. His skin starts itching. Starts crawling. Jason’s fingers want to peel and pry the skin off his flesh for relief. Have slick wet blood gush and soothe his skin. Have the bleeding tears let his skin breathe in relief. His hands are busy gagging his threatening vomit at the outbreak of his sudden vicious nausea.

Then gravity decides to fuck around.

Jason is now plummeting, spiralling downwards into an unknowing, endless fall.

There’s nothing more rage-inducing than being suddenly violently and incomprehensibly ill whilst in the midsts of fucking freefall.

Jason’s screams shatter the air.

The werewolf whirls around. He sees the displaced, living human uncontrollably falling in a panicked frenzy behind him.

"Nu, tio ne estas bona". (Well that's not good).

With a single bound, Wulf approaches the human, then he smartly opens up another portal beneath the falling mortal, in order to send the human back to the physical realm, Gotham.

But just as the human dipped into the portal, Wulf looks on in horror. He realises that the human was having a violent seizure whilst free falling. In the split second of that realisation, the human’s violent reaction interferes with his portal’s spatial displacement.

A clash of green, bursting light and hissing red blinds him.

Once he can see again, the portal and the human are both gone. Wulf doesn’t know where that young man has gone but he doubts it was Gotham, Earth.

Wulf sends thoughts and prayers for the young man.

Line break

“Fuuuuuuuuck!!!”

Jason yells out into the uncaring green void when it finally stopped spinning.

The fire in his chest died down to a thrumming burn; painful but tolerable. The skin crawling had lessened to a frustrating itch, the horrendous nausea was now motion sickness.

"Hey Leather Jacket, you good?”

Coming to a slow stop next to him was a couple riding a motorcycle. Their skin colour was ash grey and the lady had unnatural green hair.

“That’s fine”, thought Jason. “Everything’s unnatural here anyway.”

“You lost or something?" The man asks. Jason looks around at the swirling green void of a sky and floating broken islands he was drifting between.

"Yeah, you could say that. You wouldn't happen to know where Gotham is?" Jason asked without much hope.

"Oh yeah we know Gotham," the lady answered helpfully. Jason felt hope surge within. Maybe, he wasn’t completely fucked. "You’ll find it thataway. The Revolving River of Doors has recently migrated back so if you head over Skulker’s Island - “

“Do you know where Skulker’s Island is?” the dude interrupted.

“Of course he knows where it is. Everyone knows where it is, amirite.” The girl smiles leadingly at Jason. Jason stares blankly back. The girl's eyebrows fly off her head in surprise. Just like a cartoon character. Silently, Jason watches the eyebrows float back into place.

“Oh so you don’t know. How about that Johnny?”

“Yeah, how about that. You a hermit or something?”

“Or something” Jason bites back.

“Well anyway,” the girl continues, “from where we’re standing, Skulker’s Island is just a short Hunt away. The island has a gigantic skull stuck on it, so you can’t miss it.”

“You really can’t. A blind man can see that damn thing for miles.”

“You really can. Right so, once you’ve reached Skulker’s Island,”

“No wait, how do I get to Skulker’s Island?”

“Like I just said,” the lady repeats impatiently, “it’s only a short Hunt away.”

“... right, but to get there, which direction should I take?”

“Whichever one you please,” the girl answers airily, “it’s a short Hunt away.”

“Right, right. It’s a short hunt away. OK. But in which direction should I go from here?”

“Well that depends a good deal on how you want to get there?”

“I don’t much care how—” said Jason.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the lady.

“—so long as I actually get there,” Jason added, exasperated.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” she said, “it’s just a short Hunt away.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I can pick any direction?”

“Any direction”

“Any direction at all,” the guy chimes in.

“And I’ll find Skulker’s Island,” Jason continues.

“Only a short Hunt away, exactly” the lady finishes. “So once there, you’ll want to head on over it. Not under it or around it but over it. If you try to go under or around it, you’ll likely end up in Alaska.”

The biker dude frowns at his girl, “Not Ember’s Lair?”

“Nah they’ve broken up.”

“Oh like for real?”

“This time maybe, yeah.”

“Ooof. What did Skulker do?”

“Get this. He forgot her Death Day.”

The dude gasped, “He forgot! But she has a wholeass song!”

“Fucking exactly! That’s what I said when Jazz told me.”

“RIP Skulker.”

“A babe like that was out of his league anyway,” the dude leers. His girlfriend smacks him unimpressed.

“Why’d you smack me? I’m right!”

“I didn’t like the way you said it.” The girlfriend retorts, her hand on her hips.

“You didn’t like-” the dude acts flabbergasted, “oh c’mon Kitty, I didn’t mean nothing by it, so why are you”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jason interrupts unsorry, “but as the lady was saying?”

“Oooh lady,” she smiles, “I like the sound of that.”

The greasy haired ginger turns and death glares at Jason, which Jason ignores.

“So where was I?”

“That I should head over, not around or under, but over the island with the giant skull on it...”

“Right, so above Skulker’s Island you’ll see the Revolving River of Doors. And one of those doors will be a Purple Travesty to Gothic Art Deco. That's the door to Gotham.”

"But why are you heading on over to Gotham anyway?” the ginger-haired biker asks, now slouching grumpily over his handlebars. “You ain't attending the King's Not Christmas Shindig?"

The green-haired lady perks up, "Speaking of the King, bet he'd luuurve to see you."

Jason was sceptical, “Why would your King want to see me?”

“More like why wouldn’t he want to see you?” the biker dude drawled, “Like who even are you?”

“Someone who's way more confused than they were when they woke up this morning.”

“Oh!” the girl snapped her fingers, “You wouldn’t happen to want to adopt the King?”

“Or End the King”

“Or kill his Pops?”

“Or fuck his Mama?”

“Make his clones?”

“Mess with things beyond your power?”

“And then dump the responsibility onto his lap?”

“Before ditching him to save your own skin?”

“...” Jason defensively crossed his arms.

The couple were now leaning into his space, waiting attentively for his answer with creepy smiles on their faces.

“... No, I don’t want to do any of that.”

“Awesome, then you’re perfect!” the girl cheered.

“Perfect, how? For not being a madman?!”

“Well c’mon now” the guy drawled, “we’re all mad here.”

The couple’s grins grew wider.

Ooof if you managed to get all the way down here then don't forget to reblog to spread the post!😊

@crossoverdanuary

#crossover danuary 2024 #danny phantom #dpxdc #alice in wonderland #jason todd #johnny 13 #kitty #dead on main #general fandom #free day

85 notes · View notes

skyeet-the-writer · 5 months

Text

The One With the Bagel

uhhh this is super overdue but here it is for the new year!! i hope you guys like it!! also hope you guys have had a happy and safe holiday season! x. chandler bing x female!reader summary: after making plans, chandler bing shows the cool, alternative girl from canada around the city word count: ~2.9k warnings: none <previous next>

Chandler made good on his promise to show you around. Of course he did, how could he not? You gave him your number. Chandler may be stupid, but if he turned down the opportunity to hang out with you, he’d have Joey check him into a mental institution.

He didn’t call you right away, he figured it would be best to wait a few days. He wanted to wait at least three days, but he caved at two and a half and left you a voicemail on his lunch break.

He had rehearsed it many times and written it down several times. He wanted to get the words just right.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry to bother you, but if you still want to, I’m still open to showing you around the city. Or, well, parts. Um, yeah. I’m free this weekend, we can get coffee too or something if you want. But just let me know. Bye.”

When he hung up, he felt like the air had been pulled directly from his lungs and he immediately wanted to shoot himself. Why did he stutter so much? He knew why, but why? Why did he say ‘but’ so many times?

He did his best not to think about it for the rest of the day.

When he got home from work, exhausted as all hell, he had managed to forget about the whole phone call for at least an hour. But the moment he walked through the door, Joey called his name with a smirk and a strange look in his eyes.

“What’s with you?” Chandler asked, loosening his tie and finally being able to breathe again.

Instead of answering right away, his friend pointed to the phone and said, “She left you a message, man!”

His stomach dropped to his toes and he felt dread creep up his fingertips. Oh, God, what if you didn’t want him to show you around anymore? What if his quick reply freaked you out? God, if you never wanted to see him ever again Chandler couldn’t live with himself.

But still, he made himself walk towards the answering machine. It was blinking, so it was clear Joey hadn’t read it, but Chandler wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He looked up at his friend, who seemed excited, the opposite of how he felt.

Swallowing, he pressed play and your perfect voice sounded through the apartment.

“Hey, Chandler! Great to hear from you, I was wondering if you’d call.”

He blinked at the phone. Were you waiting for him to call?

“Sorry about not answering, I was at work and then the bartender was sick and I had to do it. Real cool to make the new girl bartend by herself after she finished her training.” You laugh and Chandler feels the corners of his lips quirk up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. But, uh, yeah, I’d totally be down for Sunday. And coffee sounds great. Just call me back when you can and we can figure out the details or whatever. Bye, Chan.”

The machine clicked, signaling you had hung up, and Chandler stared at the white box with a smile on his face and a warm, somewhat foreign feeling in his heart.

Joey shook his shoulders, a grin plastered across his cheeks. "You got it, man, you're in!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said, shrugging Joey off of him. "So, like, should I call her back now or wait?"

Glancing at the time the message from you was received, Joey answered, "I mean, she called a couple of hours ago. Do it now, man, she's probably off of work."

He nodded, feeling his heart rate pick up again. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

But instead of grabbing the phone, he just stared at it. He stared at it for so long that Joey had to touch his arm to get him to look at him.

"You want to order a pizza first?"

Chandler nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

And so, forty-five minutes and two-thirds of a pizza later, Chandler mustered up the courage to call you.

It only takes two rings for you to pick up.

"Hello?" Chandler has been waiting to hear your voice again for days and nothing can describe the pure amount of euphoria that rushes through his veins at your tone.

He keeps calm, however, and says, "Hey, y/n, it's Chandler."

Your tone lightens and he can practically hear the smile in your voice. "Oh, hey, Chan!"

A smile paints itself across his cheeks and heat rises up his neck and he tries to ignore Joey's excited looks. "Hey."

"You got my message, right?" For a moment, he hears some noises from your side of the call, almost like you're closing a plastic container, and he hopes he didn't catch you in the middle of eating. "I'm free on Sunday, is that cool?"

"Yeah, that works." He suggests meeting up at nine and when you laugh a little, his grin widens at your nervousness. "What is it?"

You laugh again and elaborate. "Okay, so, actually, I work the night before and we don't close until, like, one. So maybe ten? Instead?"

Chandler would hang out with you at three in the morning if you asked him to. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Awesome. So, around ten at Central Perk? Since it's really the only place I know in the city?"

A teasing smile pulls at his lips as he waves his roommate away before he embarrasses himself. "For now."

"For now?"

"Yeah. I'll show you around to all the good places."

"Even the Empire State Building?" Your voice is teasing and it makes his organs do gymnastics.

He chuckles and nods even if you can't see it. "Even the Empire State Building."

"Sick! See you then, Chan."

"See you then, y/n." He needs to come up with a nickname for you.

"Bye."

And then you hang up and Chandler places the phone back down. There's a beat where he makes eye contact with Joey before they both erupt into celebratory cheers and jump up and down together like they always do.

"Go Chandler!"

"Go me!"

~*~

Sunday comes both sooner and later than you expected. It's sooner because you worked a double the day before but it's also later because you've been looking forward to it ever since the two of you scheduled it.

But, eventually, ten o'clock rolls around and you're sitting at a table in Central Perk patiently waiting. You haven't been here for long, but since you always get nervous meeting up with new people, you grabbed a newspaper and started to do the crossword to calm your nerves.

You like Chandler, a lot. He's very sweet, funny, and he's pretty cute, too. You share a lot of similar interests, but since you've only had one encounter and a couple of phone calls, you still get anxious.

You're sure it will go away when you both make conversation.

Chewing on the end of the pencil, you rack your mind for the solution to this one question, but you can't quite remember the name, though it's on the tip of your tongue.

The bell above the door rings and you look up, smiling when you see Chandler. You wave him over and he quickly spots you, casually walking over.

"You do the crossword, too?" he asks with a small smile.

You nod. "Sometimes, yeah. Hey, I need your help with one. What's a prehistoric beast with a large bony frill?"

He tilts his head and asks, "How many letters is it?"

Glancing down at the paper, you count the little squares and answer, "Eleven."

He mouths some letters, and counts with his fingers, before saying, "Triceratops."

"That's what it is!" You quickly scribble it down in messy handwriting. "I knew that, I just forgot the word for it."

"Yeah, sure." He gives you a teasing smirk as you stand up, stashing the newspaper into your bag.

You raise a brow at him. "Wow, rude, Chan."

"I'm messing."

"I know." You smile at him. "So. You promised to show me where the good coffee is?"

He nods and moves towards the door, holding it open for you to go out of. "I did. You like bagels?"

"Of course I do, I'm not a monster."

Your humor always gets to him and he jerks his head down the street. "Come on. I'll show you a great place."

"Lead the way."

~*~

An hour later, you stand beside Chandler with a bagel in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Okay,” you say, walking past a couple holding hands. “It might have been a long wait, but you say it’s worth it?”

Chandler nods and smiles. “I promise you, it is.”

He leads you to a little bench by a flower shop and you take a seat laying the bagel across your lap.

“Coffee first,” he says to you.

“But you said the bagel is the best part.”

“Best for last?”

“I always do best for first.”

“Okay, well, drawing out the tension makes things better.”

You roll your eyes and hold out your coffee cup. “Clink me, Bing.”

A smile creeps onto his face and he can't help but say, "Is that a euphemism?"

Mirroring his teasing smile, you reply, "You wish."

He does.

But he doesn't say that and instead taps his disposable coffee cup against yours and takes a sip at the same time as you do.

Taking a sip, you immediately flinch back at the searing burning sensation on your tongue. Chandler does the same thing and you both laugh.

"He did warn it was hot," you mutter, referencing the kind older man who cashed you out while you run your front teeth over your tongue.

Chandler smiles. "Yeah, he did."

After blowing on the liquid for another moment, you both clink your cups again and you take a sip. Chandler recommended the latte and you trusted his opinion. Sure enough, as soon as the slightly-cooled down liquid touches your tongue, you're glad you trusted him.

"Woah," you say, looking at Chandler.

He's smiling. "Right?"

You smile back, taking another sip of the delicious beverage. "This is so good."

"I told you it would be good."

"It's not just good, it's great."

"Exactly. None of my other friends think it's very good."

You frown just a little. "Really? I mean, Central Perk is good and all, but this is amazing."

He just shrugs. "It's okay. I have you to go with me now."

You smile at him and a strange and warm feeling flutters in your chest.

But before you can even think about it, Chandler is putting the coffee down beside him on the bench and picking up his bagel. "Okay. Try the bagel now."

Nodding, you place the coffee down and carefully unwrap a small section of the bagel that you can eat. You had gotten a bagel called an 'All-Nighter', which had two eggs, bacon, cheese, and some kind of chipotle aioli on a cheesy bagel. It sounded like actual heaven considering you hadn't eaten all day and your mouth waters as the delectable scent wafts up to your nose.

Once again, you and Chandler clink your own bagels--he got one called the 'Santa Fe' with egg whites, sausage, and salsa on a plain bagel--and take a bite at the same time.

You're not one to groan at food, but this sandwich is so good you almost do. It's messy and you're glad for the double layer of paper around it. It's cheesy, it's warm, and it's a little spicy. It's everything you've been craving.

"Holy shit," you say, mouth still a little full. "This is so good, Chandler."

He just nods, already taking another bite.

Licking a stray piece of sauce from your lips, you hardly swallow before you go in for another bite. Together, you and Chandler eat in silence, too busy consuming your own individual meals like it's the last meal. Honestly, you would want this bagel to be your last meal.

You finish first, licking your greasy fingers before using a napkin to wipe them. Carefully, you shove all your trash into the bag and take a couple more sips of your latte before it gets cold.

Chandler is soon finished and while he's wiping his hands, you say, "That was the best sandwich I've ever had in my life, Chan."

"I told you it would be life-changing."

"I'm so sorry for doubting you," you tease, smiling and stretching your legs out in front of you and taking in the scene. It's almost noon on a Sunday in Manhattan and the streets are, unsurprisingly, crawling with people, but everyone seems a lot more relaxed and chill on Sunday rather than a busy Friday morning when you're running late for work.

You and Chandler lapse into a pleasant silence where you both just people-watch for a few minutes while your meals digest. You watch the people go by and wonder what they're doing today and what plans they have. You wonder if they've ever had a life-changing bagel as well, you wonder how many of them are new to the city like you and how many know it well like Chandler.

He speaks up. “What do you want to go see first?”

Looking at him, you know the first thing you want to do. “Empire State Building.”

He smiles and stands, offering you a hand. “Come on, then.”

Taking it, you let him haul you up before dropping his hand almost immediately. For a second, disappointment fills his chest before he pushes it away. Together, he leads you to the Empire State Building, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

~*~

By the time it was getting dark, you had both wandered halfway around Manhatten. You had seen the Empire State Building, walked by the National Museum—where his friend Ross worked, which you thought was interesting—you had walked around Times Square, and by the Rockefeller Center.

“Is it true that at Christmas they have a huge tree?” you ask as Chandler walks beside you.

He nods, smiling. “It is. And they have an ice rink.”

This makes you stop in your tracks and you turn to him. He blinks and stands next to you, completely aware that there’s a giant smile on your face.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

Chandler nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m serious. What, do you like skating?”

“Uh, yeah.” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Chandler, I love skating. You know I did hockey for, like, years right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

You widen your eyes at him. “Oh. Well, I did.”

“I didn’t know you liked hockey.”

“I’m from Canada,” you say, starting to walk once more. “It’s a requirement. I got my first stick on my fifth birthday.”

“That’s so cool,” your friend says. “I love hockey.”

“What’re the teams in the city? I know there’s the Rangers, I just can’t remember the other one.”

“The Islanders,” he tells you. “But the Rangers are better. Joey and I go to the games a lot, but if I have an extra ticket, you can come too.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, this cute little half-smile that makes his chest squeeze.

But he doesn’t think about it and smiles back, nods, and listens as you explain how you were the best defender on your team in primary school.

Eventually, you make it back to your apartment. Hell’s Kitchen isn’t as sketchy as it used to be and Chandler walks you up to your apartment building. It’s well past sunset, but the streetlights are bright enough.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing behind you to the building. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“It was no problem,” Chandler says, completely aware that you both walked right past his own apartment building twenty minutes ago. “I’m not far from here. Besides, I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get mugged.”

“Considering I have three dollars in my wallet, I don’t think that’s a problem.”

Chandler laughs and you laugh too and you realize how much you love his company. He’s funny and he gets you. He’s fun to be around and he’s nice, something a little uncommon here in the city.

“We should do this again,” you hear yourself say. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he replies. “Call me?”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It slips out and his eyes widen the words leave his lips but you just laugh gently and nod.

“I will.” Taking his hand, you shake it twice. Your rings are cold against his hand but he’s quickly distracted away from that when you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You have to lean on your tiptoes to do it and you’re already pulled away when he realizes what you’ve done.

Releasing his hand, you watch his neck heat up and panic rises up in you for fear you’ve gone too far. But then a small smile crosses his face and the knot in your stomach loosens.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you say, “Goodnight, Chandler. Get home safe.”

“You too,” he blurts out before cursing. But you just laugh that sweet laugh of yours and buzz yourself in, propping the door with your foot.

“Don’t get mugged on the way home, Chan.” And with another wave, you walk inside and let the door close behind you.

And Chandler is left standing alone in the streets of New York with a cheesy smile on his face. He scratches his chin but the grin doesn’t leave his face the entire time he meanders his way back to his apartment.

And his smile only grows wider when Joey mentions the lipstick stain on his cheek.

#x reader #chandler bing #chandler bing x reader #canadian reader #ross geller #rachel green #joey tribbiani #monica geller #phoebe buffay #don't be fooled #this is a slow burn

66 notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 5 months

Text

Cup of Coffee and a VHS | Pt. 2

Start with Pt. 1 HERE!

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader Coffee Shop!AU

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Lucien is a bit of a jerk, but other than him this is all just fluff and Neil being a dork.

Neil returned to your shop a few days later, borrowed scarf in hand and ready to try another one of your concoctions.

“Surprise me,” he said, hanging up his jacket - which you were glad to see he remembered to wear - on the coat rack by the door.

“Mmm, you weren’t really a fan of the last thing I surprised you with,” you reminded him.

It had been a busy day at the cafe, but things had quieted down now. You usually closed a few hours after the lunch rush, and you were only planning to be open for about another twenty minutes. Not that you were in any hurry to rush Neil out.

“Yeah, but I still kind of like surprises,” Neil insisted. “They can’t all be winners, but that’s all part of the experience.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my coffee is bad?” you teased.

“I’m saying that all coffee is bad,” Neil replied, making a face. “Yours was actually the most tolerable I’ve ever tried.”

You laughed. You were quickly learning that Neil, sweet as he was, was far from being a smooth talker. He seemed to dig himself into a hole more often than not.

“Wow, ‘tolerable,’” you echoed. “That’s one of the best reviews I’ve ever gotten.”

“I don’t- I didn’t mean it like that,” Neil sputtered.

“Relax,” you laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time. One non-coffee, coming up.”

You set about filling a kettle and putting it on the hot plate to boil. You were going to try tea for Neil’s next drink, thinking that maybe he’d like that better. You glanced over at the flavored syrups you had in stock, wondering if he would enjoy any of them. Or maybe it would be better to go with plain sugar, or maybe honey, and let the tea speak for itself.

“My buddy Lucien is a total coffee snob, and he really likes your Americanos,” Neil offered.

You remembered Lucien. He had been in the shop a few times. Become somewhat of a regular, actually, with the fairly odd habit of insisting on writing his own name on all his to-go cups. He struck you as snobby, but harmless enough. You figured he was probably just sick of baristas misspelling a name that hadn’t been given to anyone since the eighteenth century.

“Well, I’m glad someone around here appreciates me,” you joked, setting a steaming mug down in front of Neil. He had taken his usual seat at the counter.

“I appreciate a warm drink, too,” Neil said. “But! I am paying you for this one.”

You waved your hand as Neil took his first sip, his shoulders instantly relaxing as he swallowed the warm liquid. You had settled on adding just a dash of vanilla syrup.

“On the house,” you insisted.

“I’m not trying to run you out of business,” Neil began.

“But, you didn’t like your last drink, so that one doesn’t really count,” you pressed. “Hot water and a bag of tea costs, like, twenty cents. I’m not gonna sell it to you at a two hundred percent markup. Now, Lucien on the other hand…”

Neil laughed, and you had to bite your cheek to keep from smiling too broadly. You were wary of laying it on too thick, but Neil was too fun to flirt with for you to abstain entirely. And it really wasn’t hurting you to give him a couple of free drinks…

“Still, I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity,” Neil said.

“Well, what if we did a little exchange?” you suggested. Neil leaned forward in his seat. “I don’t know much about movies, but I’m guessing you do.”

Neil shrugged, mimicking modesty while giving you a knowing look. His side-eye made you swoon, a little more than you should have.

“I’ve been known to dabble,” he admitted.

“So how about you suggest me a movie as payment for the drink?” you offered.

Neil considered it as he took another sip of his tea.

“Hmmm, that is a tall order,” he joked, sitting on his hands as he rocked back a bit.

“Think you’re up for it?”

“I think it could be arranged,” he relented. “But, you’d have to stop by Gumshoe to pick it up.”

“Deal,” you agreed.

Neil took another sip of tea.

“Better than the coffee?” you asked, motioning to his cup.

“Better, but… I’m not sure I’m really a tea person, either,” Neil admitted.

“Next time you should tell me what you actually like,” you laughed.

Neil made a face.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is that you get to drink something that doesn’t make you gag when you think I’m not looking,” you teased. Then added, “you’re not very subtle, Neil.”

It was so easy to make Neil blush that you almost felt bad doing it. Almost. He tried to hide his pink face by taking another sip from the mug, loudly slurping in some kind of effort to pull the attention away from his embarrassment.

“Well,” Neil said, setting his empty mug down. “I should get going, but feel free to stop by whenever. We’re open late.”

“Three-in-the-morning-late?” you joked.

“Not that late,” Neil laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” agreed Neil.

He tapped the counter as he stood up, and made his way over to the door. As was becoming your habit, you came out from behind the counter to send him off.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Neil looked down at the scarf he was still clutching in his hand. “Don’t want you to go without your scarf for another day.”

Neil unfolded the scarf and wrapped it around you, just like you had done for him a few days ago. He held onto the ends, pulling it snug, and stayed like that for a moment longer than was necessary.

“Thank you again for letting me borrow this,” Neil muttered, letting the ends of the scarf fall from his hands. “And I’m serious about paying you back; you’d better stop by.”

“I will,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”

Neil smiled and gave you a short wave as he exited the cafe again. You realized after he left that your heart was beating wildly; so fast that you could feel it inside your chest. You wrapped the scarf a little tighter, and hurried to close up shop for the day, your steps feeling just a little more airy.

The following afternoon, bundled in your cold-weather gear, you made the trek down the street to Gumshoe Video after closing up your shop. The air was biting against your cheeks, and you were grateful that Neil had returned your scarf. You buried into it a little deeper, and caught a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne.

You smiled. It was woodsy but also sweet. The bell above the door rang as you let yourself into Neil’s store.

“Hey - coffee girl,” a familiar voice called as you entered the store. Not Neil’s.

You looked up to see Lucien, standing behind the counter. You wondered briefly if the “coffee girl” nickname was a spur-of-the-moment thing, or if he and Neil ever talked about you, but you quickly shook away the thought.

“Lucien, you work here?” you asked.

You stepped farther into the store, briefly scanning the endless shelves of VHS tapes. So many movies. You stopped at the counter and rested your elbows on the glass top.

“Unfortunately,” droned Lucien. He lowered his voice, whispering. “My boss is kind of a dick.”

“I think I’m, uh… actually here to see your boss.”

“Oh. That’s right.” Before you had a chance to ask what that meant, Lucien called out, shouting toward the back of the store. “Neil! Coffee girl here to see you!”

Okay, you weren’t loving that nickname. But before you had a chance to say anything else, Neil appeared from a back room, smiling broadly and holding his arms out to greet you.

“Heyyyy!” Neil came over to your side of the counter, standing beside you and leaning on one elbow. “Glad you could make it. Lucien, don’t give rude nicknames to the customers.” “But you’re the one who-”

“It’s nice to see you,” Neil cut Lucien off, turning his attention to you. “Welcome to Gumshoe.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “It’s nice to finally visit. You have a ton of movies; wow.”

A whispering voice to your left hissed out: “Neil, is that the girl?”

You hadn’t noticed, but there was a third man in the room, lounging on one of the couches in front of a TV set that was playing a black-and-white movie. He was looking up expectantly at Neil, who whirled around to glare at him.

“Jonathan,” Neil hissed.

“Sorry. Is that… a… girl?” Jonathan corrected.

Neil turned back around, raking an exasperated hand through his hair. You stifled a giggle.

“Sorry,” Lucien said sardonically. “We’re all a little out of sorts since Neil broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Lucien,” Neil whispered, practically begging the other man to shut up. “You are not helping!”

Privately, your heart skipped a beat. The news that Neil was single excited you more than you knew it should have. You suddenly felt grateful for Lucien’s horrid social skills.

“Suddenly,” Neil said, glaring at both of his friends, “I just remembered I need both of you to run inventory. In my office.”

“But there’s nothing to-”

“Inventory!” Neil barked, pointing in the direction of the back room.

Jonathan and Lucien slunk off, both throwing not-so-subtle looks in your and Neil’s direction. Neil tried to compose himself, and turned back to face you.

“Sorry about them,” he apologized. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.

“Sorry to hear about you and your girlfriend,” you offered, even as your heart was still pounding from the excitement.

“Oh, don’t be.” Neil waved his hand. “Like I said, it was kind of a long time coming, and… It’s really fine.”

“I can come back another time…”

“No!” Neil said, a little too sharply. “No, no - this is perfect. I actually have your movie right here.”

He disappeared behind the counter for a moment, leaning down to fetch the VHS he had picked out for you. He handed it over, and you looked down at the cover.

“Ooh, The Shining,” you mused. “I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re in for a treat, then,” Neil beamed. “Classic horror. Stanley Kubrick. And perfect to watch during the snowstorm this weekend.”

You knew enough about the film’s plot to know that he was correct. You wondered if Neil had taken such a minor detail as the weather into consideration when picking out this movie. It seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

“I’m excited to watch it,” you smiled. “Thank you for your ‘payment.’”

Neil smiled back, and swung around the counter to join you once again on the other side. He stood a little closer to you than he had before, and you felt your heart beat loudly, thundering against your ribs.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll stop coming to the cafe so I can test out drinks on you, though,” you told him. “Just because this makes us even. I still need to find something you actually like.”

“Of course not,” Neil agreed. “I can always pay you in more movie recommendations.”

You tucked the VHS tape Neil had given you into your bag, taking the few seconds that your face was turned away from him as an opportunity to smile like an idiot. You looked back up, trying to relax and put on a more neutral expression, with questionable levels of success.

“Before I go,” you started. “Will you please give me some kind of clue about what you like? I don’t want to keep making you drinks that you hate.”

Neil shrugged.

“I dunno; I like sweet stuff, I guess,” he replied. “The more sugar, the better.”

Somewhere from deeper in the store, either Jonathan or Lucien let out a wolf whistle. Clearly they hadn’t made it all the way into Neil’s office. You couldn’t help laughing as Neil rolled his eyes.

“Something sweet, huh? I think that can be arranged,” you said.

You and Neil exchanged goodbyes as you left the store, bell ringing again on your way out. Outside, you could barely feel the cold air on your cheeks, for the way they burned red-hot after being around Neil.

Read Pt. 3 HERE!

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #LemmyFics

96 notes · View notes

gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part Three)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, boy next door/neighbor!hyunjin, generally inexperienced and painfully shy virgin!reader, fluff, humor, there’s a little angst if you count reader panicking lmao, chan does onlyfans lmao, reader almost walks in on something she shouldn’t (but nothing spicy happens), mentions that reader and chan madeout once while they were a little intoxicated and she had a panic attack, reader has anxiety, implied that reader has issues w her mom, reader and co get drunk (if i missed anything lmk!!), minors dni!!!

Word count: 5,890

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

tag list: @hyuneyeon @ack-aashi @rindomo @fridayamirah [be added to the taglist by filling out this form!]

permanent tag list (italics are unable to tag): @minluvly @awkwardnesshabitat @woozarts @septicrebel @4kwp @thepencilkorner @shmooooo @bubblelixie @byunhoebaek @dejavernon @ahandfulofkeys @slut-for-dabi @avyskai @pussymode @sunoosult @moonlightcandy00 @missrobyn81

Previous | Next | Series Masterlist

Mrs. Park texted you that morning, saying you wouldn’t be needed. Apparently Hajoon was sick and she wanted to stay home with him, which you didn’t mind. It meant you had a free day to yourself, and after what happened with Hyunjin the previous day, you really wanted to see your friends and get their take on everything. As much as you wanted to gush about everything to Chan last night while playing Smash, you found yourself listening to how his day had gone and getting off-track a lot, so you didn’t really have the time or space to say anything. So you got ready to go out for the day and make your way to your old apartment to see your friends.

Seungmin and Minho might’ve been busy, but you knew Chan was always home. Plus, he let you keep the spare key that Minho illegally copied, so you could get in even if Chan was for some reason not home.

“Yo, _____!” Jeongin waved at you from the front desk as you walked through the lobby.

Your eyebrows knitted together, “I thought you worked nights.”

“Had to switch shifts,” he shrugged. “Where’re you off to today? You’re leaving later than usual.”

“No work today,” you sighed as you strolled up to the desk and rested an elbow on it. “Gonna go visit my friends and hope they’re around.”

“Do they live far?”

“Couple hours away or something like that.”

“Oh, well have a safe trip,” he grinned.

“Thanks!” you chirped and waved goodbye, starting to walk away.

“Oh, hang on!” Jeongin suddenly gasped, making you stop and take the few steps back toward the desk as he fished around for something on the desk by the computers that you couldn’t see. “Before you go… This is for you.”

He held out a folded piece of paper with a knowing smirk, though you didn’t know why.

“Oh,” was all you said, taking the paper with a slightly confused expression.

You continued to stand there as you unfolded the paper, and then you felt butterflies in your stomach as you read the short note, a smile creeping onto your face despite not wanting it to with Jeongin standing right there.

I forgot to give you my number. Text me sometime

-Hyunjin

P.s. I’m holding you to this too

“Have a good daaaay, _____,” Jeongin sang.

‘He definitely read the note,’ you realized, folding the note and waving to Jeongin again before swiftly leaving the building.

Chan’s car was parked in the usual spot, so you knew he was home. But knocking on the door left you with no answer. Chan was probably asleep since it was before noon. So you let yourself in.

You left your bag by the door as if you still lived there, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your coat in the usual spot you used to. Then you went straight to the bedroom you used to share with Chan, busting open the door and mouth open, ready to yell at him to wake the hell up because you had a situation.

Except there was a new situation in front of you that made you stop dead in your tracks, inhaled breath held, and mouth still open.

Chan stood in front of you, facing the door with his phone on a tripod between him and the door, the screen facing him. He was dressed in a nice white button-up and some black slacks. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his toned abs that you’d seen far too many times, and his hands were frozen, in the middle of unbuckling the belt around his slacks.

He stared at you silently, as you did the same to him.

Finally you let out a sigh, “I thought that this would stop happening now that we don’t live together.”

“Well maybe if you’d knock,” he stated, dropping the buckle.

“I knocked on the front door, how did you not hear?”

“I figured you were like, a delivery person or something and you’d just leave it out there!”

“Well I figured you were asleep!”

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, “You realize I have to do this commission all over now, right?”

“Well, do it later,” you told him. “I need your help.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave you a concerned look, “Help? You doing okay?”

“Love life help,” you confessed with a sigh, knowing that would absolutely pique your friend’s interest.

And it did, as gasp leaving his lips as his eyes went wide, “Really? Aw, _____!”

“No, it’s… I don’t know what it is. Just get changed and I’ll wait in the living room.”

“Why can’t I just wear this?”

“Chan, you’re almost half-naked.”

“Yeah, and? _____, we slept in the same room forever and you’ve definitely seen me wear less,” he scoffed.

You shrugged with a slight nod, “Yeah, touché.”

Curled up on one side of the couch with your back to the arm rest, one knee to your chest with your other leg curled under you, Chan almost mimicked you as he sat on the other side, only one of his legs was stretched out in front of him, almost reaching your leg. He folded his hands on his stomach as he kept his full attention on you.

“So you know Hyunjin?” you asked.

He narrowed his eyes, quirking a brow as he thought, “That’s…the front desk guy?”

You shook your head, “Hot neighbor. Front desk guy is Felix the Austrailian.”

“Right, hot neighbor!” he nodded, wagging a finger at you. “Still think you should go for front desk guy, but I’m just biased.”

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, he like…hit on me, I think?”

“You think?”

“I mean, like… Okay, so he asked me to help him bleach his hair so I went over, and we watched a movie in between him processing, and then he told me he actually knew how to dye his own hair and he just wanted an excuse to invite me over because he wanted ‘a pretty girl to play with his hair’.”

Chan kept his eyes on you through your entire babbled recap. Honestly, he was surprised that he even kept up with how fast you were talking, but he seemed to understand everything, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Aw, _____! That’s good!” he grinned. But he saw the way you were biting the inside of your cheek despite the small smile on your face, and how you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a groan as if it were obvious, bursting, “Chan, I’m a virgin!”

“Okay, didn’t realize we were jumping to sex so quickly,” he commented.

“No! He didn’t jump to anything – I mean, I think he almost kissed me but then you called.”

Chan seemed upset with himself, giving you puppy-dog eyes as his jaw dropped slightly, “I cockblocked? I didn’t mean t– Oh, wait, is that a good thing?”

Chan knew how you got when people kissed you. He may or may not have discovered your issue himself when the two of you were kind of drunk during a night at home without Seungmin and Minho where you both admitted to finding the other cute – you still thought Chan was good-looking, but you definitely did not see him as someone you wanted to date. You still weren’t sure who kissed who first, but Chan’s tongue was in your mouth and suddenly, you shut down. Eyes squeezed closed, body tensed, and your breathing was jagged and uneven.

You were having a panic attack. And it happened every single time somebody new kissed you, and it usually took you a few times to actually warm up to them enough to makeout with them comfortably. You still didn’t know why you were like this – maybe it was just the anxiety of knowing you were inexperienced and you feared you were a bad kisser or whatever awful thing that could go wrong – but you were embarrassed every single time it happened nonetheless.

But Chan was now fully aware of your fears. He was there to hold you and promise you that you were okay in between your breathy apologies. You opened up to him about what might have caused you to do that, and told him it happened with your last two – and only two – boyfriends, so you were pretty sure this was just…a thing.

A thing that you hated so, so much.

You frowned and looked down at your lap, feeling defeated, “I don’t know, dude… I wanted him to kiss me, but I also didn’t want to, y’know, hyperventilate and freak him out. But also, I don’t even know if he only wants to kiss me. Like, what if he’s just looking for a hook-up? Or even if he does want a relationship, how am I supposed to explain that I have no clue what I’m doing in regards to basically anything?”

Chan just shrugged, his lips pressing into a thin line, “You just be honest. If he’s worth your time, he won’t care. No decent person will think less of you, _____; I’ve told you that so many times.”

“I know, but I care!” you shot back.

“You care too much,” he stated.

“I know!”

“Look,” Chan sighed, letting his head tilt to the left and rest against the back of the couch, looking at you softly – if it were anyone else, you’d think it was pity, but because it was Chan, it was more like…a weird sense of understanding; like he could see your point of view, “I know you’ve said your anxiety is manageable, and I do think it is. But when it comes to more…physical relationships, I think that’s when it really stops you. You care too much because you're anxious, and you need to figure out where that stems from and work on it.”

You scoffed, “I think we both know where it stems from.”

“You can’t blame everything on your mom, _____.”

“She made me a people pleaser!”

“Sweetie, you’re far passed people pleaser,” he chuckled, even though he found no humor in your mental state. “You’re more like a…”

As Chan stopped to think of a word, you let out an annoyed huff, “This isn’t even about any of that. Can we get back to the Hyunjin thing?”

“Right,” Chan cleared his throat as he readjusted himself on the couch to get a bit more comfortable. “Well, my dear, I think… I think you need to just see what his intentions are. Go from there and just explain your boundaries.”

“But it’s embarrassing having to tell people I’m in my 20’s and have only had two one-month-long relationships, and I’ve never done more than makeout with someone,” you whined, looking at Chan with desperation like he could make all your problems go away if you begged him hard enough.

“If he thinks it’s embarrassing, you call me and I’ll bring Minho and Seungmin over to embarrass him,” Chan promised with a laugh. “They don’t hold back.”

You let out a sigh, eyes staring off as you recalled the many times the pair had made a virgin joke to you, “As much as I sometimes wish they would. Even they were shocked when they found out I’m still a virgin!”

He cocked his head to one side, eyebrows creasing together in confusion.

“When we played that drinking game, I had to confess how many people I’ve slept with,” you explained. “I said I was a virgin and both of their jaws dropped.”

Chan’s eyes widened when he recalled the memory, “Oh! Oh, _____, no! They weren’t shocked because of your age, it’s because they didn’t think like… Like someone like you could be a virgin.”

It was your turn to be confused, “Someone like me?”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like an incel, y’know?” he stated, gesturing to you across the couch. “You’re good-looking, _____, and you don’t act like…weird. I mean, you’re weird, but in a likable way. You don’t have the appearance or personality of someone you’d think would still be a virgin. Think, like: sweaty guy who lives in his mom’s basement.”

“Oh…” you figured that made you feel a little bit better that your roommates were never judging you that hard. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling in the outer corners. “So, did you wanna go do something, or what? Maybe get your mind off things for a while.”

“Kinda was hoping we could just play video games or something,” you told him. “When are Seungmin and Minho coming back?”

“Seungmin should be back any minute, and Min’ll be a couple hours,” he said, checking his watch that he really only used for ‘daddy’ commissions for his Onlyfans, so you laughed a little seeing that he still had it on despite being changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He looked back up at you and narrowed his eyes. “You shut your mouth.”

“Didn’t even open it,” you replied.

Changbin eyed Hyunjin from across the table, watching as the younger boy kept his eyes on his phone as he nervously curled a strand of blonde hair around his index finger, biting at his bottom lip and bouncing his leg. To his left, his girlfriend, Kit looked over the menu, oblivious to whatever was going on between the two friends – or she didn’t care.

“Are you going to like, be here anytime soon?” Changbin asked.

His voice made Hyunjin jump slightly, looking up with wide eyes, “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like, ten minutes,” Changbin told him. “And judging from your nervous ticks, I don’t think you’re just scrolling social media. Honestly, I haven’t seen you nervous in a long time. What’s up?”

Hyunjin sighed, dropping his phone on the table and running both hands through his hair, “She hasn’t texted me.”

Changbin’s eyebrows dropped as he deadpanned, “This about about apartment girl, isn’t it?”

“Can you stop judging me?”

“A girl?” Kit asked, eyes widened as her interest in the conversation piqued, her menu being lowered to look between her boyfriend and his best friend. “There’s a girl involved? Jinnie, you like a girl?”

“He hardly knows a girl,” Changbin corrected. “Remember, the girl who moved in across from his apartment?”

“Oh,” she nodded, recalling Changbin briefly mentioning the situation to her – well, he ranted about it but she picked out what was important. “She made you blonde. Y’know, Jinnie, I’ve pegged you for a lot of things but never a hopeless romantic.”

At least her stupid joke could make Hyunjin laugh, looking down at the table as he seemed to relax slightly in his seat.

“Did you give her your number?” Changbin asked.

“I left it with one of the guys at the desk – Jeongin, remember him?”

“Maybe he just didn’t see her today.”

“She always works weekdays,” Hyunjin insisted.

“Maybe she didn’t like your ‘move’ as much as you thought,” Kit chuckled, mostly just trying to tease him a little and lighten the mood a bit more.

If anything, it made him more tense as he said, “No, she did, I know it! I’m so good at reading people, Kitty -- you know! She was blushing and hiding her face and everything. It was honestly really cute…”

Though, it more so sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than them.

“Maybe she’s busy,” Changbin suggested with a shrug. “If she’s working, that’s probably what it is. I mean, what does she even do?”

Hyunjin scoffed, picking up his phone again and sliding a little bit down against the seat of the booth, “I’m not asking. Then she’ll ask what I do and I’m not getting myself wrapped up in any lies before I can…explain.”

“I mean, if she’s as shy as you said, maybe she’s afraid to text you first,” Kit said as she went back to looking over the menu. “Bet you didn’t think of that one, loverboy.”

Hyunjin looked at her absolutely dumbfounded. He looked like she just casually told him the meaning of life. Honestly, why didn’t he think of that? He obviously knew how shy you were.

While Changbin just smirked at her and gently nudged her side, “Good call, babe.”

“I know everything,” she nodded. “The only way that girl could ever possibly have the courage to text you is if she’s drunk – and that’s still a solid maybe.”

And almost on cue, Hyunjin’s phone buzzed against the table. Kit set her menu down and Changbin glanced at the glowing screen as Hyunjin picked up his phone slowly, eyeing Kit before his eyes flickered down to the screen to see a text from an unknown number.

Two slices of pizza and two rounds of Beerio Kart later, you were considering just spending the night at your old apartment. Despite loving your own space, you missed having people around. You missed the good moments of being drunk and laughing about nothing and everything because they could somehow make anything a joke – including the one time the four of you heard a thud from the apartment above you and Minho suggested that the old man who lived there finally kicked the bucket and instead of calling someone, all of you were laughing until you were crying.

Except Jisung basically lived there now, sleeping on their couch more often than not.

And boy, was explaining the situation to him fun.

“I don’t get why this guy maybe wanting to date her is a big deal,” he had said when you were recapping the situation to Seungmin and Minho.

“She’s nervous because she’s scared he’ll think she’s like, weird or undateable if she’s still a virgin,” Minho deadpanned, eyes still on the screen.

Jisung’s jaw dropped, “You’re still a virgin?!”

Needless to say, you finished your drink first and won the first round.

Now, you were two whole drinks deep, you were feeling pretty tipsy – like, tipsy to the point that you were about to confidently tell Jisung your whole life story for fun – and you were contemplating just not going home at all since you were having so much fun. But you also knew it was the alcohol talking because, god, you loved your bed.

“One more?” Minho asked, setting the controller down on the coffee table.

All five of you crammed onto the couch, with Jisung perched on the back, one foot planted on the right armrest while the other was behind Minho. Chan sat beside him on the back of the couch with you sitting comfortably between his legs, leaning back into the cushions as your legs stretched out in front of you. Minho made damn sure to manspread enough to get his own space, while Seungmin leaned into the left arm of the couch. But Seungmin at least seemed content having to lean into the arm of the couch. It could be worse – he could be sitting by Jisung.

“I don’t think _____ should keep drinking,” Chan spoke up, always the voice of reason. “She’s gotta get home, remember?”

“She can crash with you, it’s fine,” Seungmin told him, waiving the worry away.

“The bed is gone, remember?”

Minho and Seungmin looked up at Chan, then at each other, like they forgot you were really gone.

“You guys had a fourth bed?” Jisung exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s in the dumpster now,” Minho told him as he got up from his seat. “Why don’t you go sleep in it?”

“What if we make sure _____ gets home safe?” Seungmin asked as Minho went to the kitchen for another beer, and Jisung swung his legs around the back of the couch to go follow him. “Then can we play one more?”

“Yeah, dad,” you leaned forward and turned your head to look up at Chan with pleading eyes, “can we?”

Chan gave you a stern look, “How will we know you made it home? We can’t go on the train with you.”

And that was when you remembered something. Something that made butterflies erupt in your stomach before, but now only brought you drunken delight.

“I have Hyunjin’s number!” you squealed. “I forgot! I can text him and I can see if he’ll pick me up from the train station and–”

“And you can blow him in his car!” Minho teased with fake-enthusiasm, though the shit-eating grin he gave you when you glared at him was very much real.

But then you raised your eyebrows and said, “Unless…”

“You won’t,” Chan stated, but it wasn’t like he was telling you that he didn’t want you to. He was telling you that they all knew you wouldn’t.

“How did you forget to tell us you have his number?” Seungmin wondered, leaning toward you as you fished the note from your pocket and began typing the number into your phone.

“It’s _____ we’re talking about,” Minho scoffed.

“Are you sure you wanna text him right now?” Chan asked warily.

“I’m not that drunk,” you promised. “Only enough to have a little more confidence and courage.”

“You go, bestie,” Jisung chimed in before taking a drink of his beer.

Minho groaned, looking at him in annoyance, “Now you need a new beer to play!”

You drowned out their bickering as you typed Hyunjin’s name into your phone before starting a new message.

?????: hey, it’s _____! sorry i didn’t text you earlier!!

“That’s so dry,” Seungmin commented beside you before adding with a shrug, “I mean, you are a virgin.”

You lifted your head to glare at him, meeting his innocent gaze, “Do you want me to announce that I’m drunk?”

“It would make things more interesting, yeah.”

Before you could quip a reply, your phone buzzed in your hand.

Hyunjin 😳💌: no worries! how was work today?

_____ 😌🥰: i didn’t. i hung out with friends all day

Hyunjin 😳💌: oh, that’s fun!

Hyunjin 😳💌: what did you do?

_____ 😌🥰: beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: im a PRO at beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: did you make it home alright after that or are you staying over there?

_____ 😌🥰: ummmmmm

“He’s also unbearably dry,” Minho commented, disgust in his tone as he watched you text from over your shoulder.

You shoved him away from you, his face landing in the cushions.

_____ 😌🥰: I still have to take the train home

Hyunjin 😳💌: you’re not still drunk, are you?

_____ 😌🥰: i mean…..i’ve been drunker

Hyunjin 😳💌: do you need me to pick you up from the station? will you be able to get on the train okay? i can pick you up wherever you are

Jisung clicked his tongue, “He sounds desperate.”

You turned your head around to give him a confused look, “I hardly even know you.”

Hyunjin 😳💌: sorry if i’m being a lot lol i just want you to get back okay

“Does he even know where you are?” Seungmin asked. “I don’t think he’s that committed to driving all the way here. It’s kinda long.”

“How much do you trust this guy?” Chan wondered, looking a little concerned. “You’d be in a car alone with him for about two hours.”

“That also means even more Beerior Kart than just one more round,” you pointed out, a grin spreading across your face.

“Yeah!” Minho cheered, holding his beer in the air. “We love Hyunjae!”

“Hyunjin,” you corrected.

“Whatever-the-fuck!” he said in the same tone with the same smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t know if I would want you in a car with him for two hours if you’re gonna be even more intoxicated,” Chan admitted, placing a hand on your upper back.

Your phone buzzed again in your hand, but it continued to buzz after the first one. You looked down to see Hyunjin’s name illuminated on your screen.

“He’s calling!” Seungmin gasped with wide eyes.

“Go take it in my room,” Chan told you, helping you to your feet and gesturing to his bedroom door. “I already know these freaks will start moaning in the background and shit.”

“Can you be like, a little more fun, grandpa?” Minho frowned.

You went into Chan’s bedroom and shut the door, feeling nervousness wash over you despite having liquid courage in your system. Maybe that was just the overall anxiety of taking phone calls. Still, you forced yourself to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, _____,” Hyunjin breathed. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m at my old apartment with my friends,” you explained. “They’re trying to figure out the whole ‘me leaving’ situation.”

“Like I said, I can come get you,” he offered again. “Where are you?”

“It’s almost two hours away,” you chuckled.

“That’s okay. I’d rather you be safe than worry about a long drive.”

“Weeeeeeell…” you began slowly, wondering if you should even admit this to Hyunjin or not but your mouth was talking before your brain could consider anything else, “one of my friends is kinda concerned about me being drunk and alone in someone else’s car for two hours.”

Thankfully, Hyunjin laughed, “Understandably so. I can pick you up from the train station if you need. Do you need money for a ticket?”

“No, I’m okay. I think maybe Chan just wants me to get a taxi from the station or something.”

“I can call one for you and have it there by the time you get there.”

Feeling maybe too bold from the alcohol, you blurted the question that suddenly came to your mind: “Hyunjin, why are you being so nice to me?”

Your boldness seemed to catch him off-guard for a minute considering his silence, but you heard somebody chuckle in the background, along with a feminine-sounding laugh. It made your heart sink a little bit. Was he with another girl?

‘Are you seriously getting jealous already?’

But in your tipsy state, you’d basically forgotten about it when Hyunjin started talking.

“I’d be like this with any of my friends,” he told you. “If you’re drunk, I want to make sure you make it back safely. So if I can’t personally make sure, I’ll call a taxi at the very least.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to pick me up,” you babbled, unable to control your mouth because about 50% of your brain was just spilling whatever it thought up, “I just want Chan to not worry about me, either.”

He chuckled, “Sweetheart, I get it. I’m not offended.”

Your face was already feeling flushed from the alcohol, but it somehow got hotter hearing him call you that. You were kind of glad you weren’t around him because you didn’t want him to see how big your smile was at the name.

“‘Kay, just making sure,” you told him, still giggling from the way your heart fluttered from the use of ‘sweetheart’. You were probably going to think about that all night.

“Let me know when you leave and I’ll have the taxi ready for you,” he promised. “Let me or your friends know if anything happens, alright?”

“I will.”

“Have a good night, _____.”

“Thanks, Hyunjin!”

The bedroom door creaked open just as you ended the call. You looked up from the phone to see Seungmin’s head poking in, a devilish grin on his face.

“One more?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, “One more.”

The train ride went smooth despite you having the spins, and you were pretty sure you were almost fully-sober by the time you were in the taxi. But when you got out of the car and went to walk toward your building, you stumbled slightly.

Okay, so maybe you did play more than one more round.

It was almost 2am as you entered the lobby, and you expected to hear Felix’s deep voice greet you. But instead, you heard one that made your heart skip a beat.

“_____,” Hyunjin stood from one of the chairs in the lobby and strolled over to you, a casual smile on his face. “You made it back okay.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, absolutely shocked that he waited up for you and stayed in the lobby to make sure you showed up. Nobody had ever done that for you – well, except for your grandmother when you would spend the nights at her house when you were in high school and she wanted to make sure you made it home safely, and sometimes Chan did.

“Are you still drunk?” he asked, seeming a little concerned as he slightly tilted his head to one side, eyes studying you.

He mostly asked because you were just standing there staring at him and not saying anything. In fact, you were staring at him like he was some famous person that had strolled in and taken you off-guard.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted in a mumble.

“Do you want some help to your room?” he offered.

A yawn escaped your lips as you nodded, and it hit you just how tired you really were. You kept yourself occupied with your phone on the train and in the taxi, yawning a little here and there since you weren’t surrounded by the excitement of your friends anymore. But knowing your bed was only a few floors away now, you were ready to pass out immediately.

“Need a hand, Hyunjin?” the familiar deep voice commented from by the counter.

“I think I’ve got her,” he replied, carefully sliding an arm around your waist and putting your arm around his shoulders, keeping his hand in yours. “Thanks, though, Lix.”

“‘Course! Have a good night, guys. _____, call down if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Felix,” you slurred slightly, glancing over at the counter to give him a lazy smile. “You’re the best.”

He grinned brightly with a wave as Hyunjin helped you to the elevators.

All you could think of was how good he smelled. Would it be weird to try to subtly nuzzle into him or would he notice? Could you even be sneaky like this?

Being drunk typically gave you some sort of god-complex, but all of a sudden, you were basically back to being your shy, anxious self.

‘I sobered up at least a little bit,’ you reminded yourself, ‘I’m just not drunk enough. ...I should’ve gotten drunker.’

Had Hyunjin been around you at your peak drunkenness, you probably would’ve been throwing him pickup lines left and right.

“Was your trip home okay?” he asked as he pressed the button on the elevator with a slender finger.

“Yeah,” you yawned, trying to not let your head drop onto his shoulder. “Pretty boring, honestly.”

“How was hanging out with your friends?” he continued as the elevator doors slid open.

Honestly, you were fine to walk on your own – it might not have been in a perfect straight line, but you knew you wouldn’t fall on your face – but you continued to let Hyunjin think you couldn’t just because it was nice feeling a strong hand on your waist and his warm fingers wrapped around your hand. And also just leaning into him was nice. Everything about Hyunjin thinking you were far too drunk to function was nice.

And then if you did decide to be bold, you could pretend like you didn’t remember it tomorrow. It was a win/win!

“I didn’t win,” you pouted as you entered the elevator and Hyunjin pressed the button for the 8th floor. “I’m not the best at chugging my drinks…or at driving…”

“Remind me to not get into a car with you, then,” he smirked, glancing at you with a teasing look.

You huffed back in his face, “Okay, real-life driving is not using a fucking controller and trying to drift on Rainbow Road.”

“It could be,” he shrugged, “if you try hard enough.”

“I think you’re the drunk one,” you stated, going so far as to reach up and press the tip of your index finger against the button of his nose.

His eyes closed as your finger touched him, and then he blinked a few times before laughing at you. And you stared at him in a way that clearly said ‘why the hell did I do that’, trying to process exactly why in the hell you did do that.

Then you stared straight forward, whispering to yourself but very much out loud, “What the fuck am I doing?”

“So, who’s the drunk one again?” he continued to laugh, and you could feel teasing eyes on you but you couldn’t look at him.

Maybe you wouldn’t look at him ever again after this.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy?” he chuckled, releasing your hand to put his fingers under your chin and guide you to look at him.

Doe eyes met his slender ones. You couldn’t tell what kind of emotion he was looking at you with. There were hints of a smirk on his face but there was still softness in his eyes.

‘Oh god, it’s happening.’

Your heart was hammering in your chest, bracing for whatever was going to happen next. If he was going to kiss you while you were drunk in an elevator, you at least hoped you didn’t also get trapped in the small space because that wouldn’t help you at all.

The elevator dinged softly.

His features broke into a sweet smile as he said, “You’re cute.”

As the doors slid open, Hyunjin dropped his hand to hold yours that you now realized was fisting the shoulder of his shirt because of your nerves. He guided you out of the elevator and walked you halfway down the hall to where your doors faced each other.

“Keys?” he asked.

“Ummm,” you hummed as you fished around in your bag with your free hand, your mind still reeling from whatever Hyunjin was doing to you in the elevator.

You finally found your keys with shaky hands, handing them to Hyunjin. He made sure you weren’t going to fall over if he let you go – you wouldn’t have before but now because of him, your knees felt like jelly – before he unlocked your door and pushed it open slightly for you. Then he handed you your keys back with a smile.

“I’m glad you made it home okay,” he told you.

“Thanks for making sure,” you mumbled, still finding it difficult to look him in the eye.

So all you saw was one foot step forward toward you. You didn’t see his hand come up to cup your cheek, or his head lean forward to press plush lips to your hairline, making your eyes squeeze closed as you felt your heart implode, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

“Have a good night, _____,” he murmured softly. Then he gently took your shoulders, turned you toward your door, and lightly pushed you inside because he knew you wouldn’t move your feet on your own. You could hear him chuckling at you as he added, “Don’t forget to drink lots of water.”

And then he closed the door.

And you stood in your kitchen/living area in the dark, feeling somehow more drunk than when you even left Chan’s.

#k-labels #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x reader #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #hyunjin x reader

424 notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 5 months

Text

That Warm Christmas Feeling

Synopsis: Your spending the holidays with Jordan but you wake up feeling hot…

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

Words: 1k+

A/N - Happy holidays my lovelies. I woke up feeling absolutely awful which sucks but here’s a little gift. It's short and messy but enjoy.

WARNINGS - swearing

a blanket of white snow paved the way for joyful celebration and family festivities. the festive season had been deep in your bones since late November. the cheesy Christmas movies. the bright flashing lights. and jolly old men in beards. you never cared much for the festive season by any means, it almost seemed like too much but you were making a conscious effort to try and enjoy it. you want the first holiday season together to feel even just a little special. you had been dragging them along to all kinds of festive events. you had been ice skating and drank hot chocolate. Christmas shopping around the markets. it was all just fun and games. the main event was to take place at their home. your first time meeting their parents. it seemed like such a big step for a rather new relationship but you weren’t against the idea. it would be fun.

a loud groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back. a dull ache settles deep in your bones. a thick fog invades your head as your brain throbs. a blocked, tickly nose. great. you’re sick. on Christmas day of all days. you pull the covers up over your head to escape the sun peaking through the windows. couldn’t have picked a worse day. “good morning,” whispered in your ear. there’s an edge of excitement to their voice. their hand comes up to remove the duvet and reveal your less-than-pleased expression. You move away from them, burying your fave deeper into the pillow. “You good? I thought you'd be more excited. My parents have a full day planned, you're gonna love it.”

A pit of guilt or nausea grows in your stomach. You really wanna get up and enjoy the day but you also just wanna go back to sleep. “Please don't be mad,” you mumble against the fabric of the pillow.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I feel like shit,” you admit. “I think I'm sick.”

“Oh,” there's a pause that almost allows you to drift off again. “That's shit.”

“I’m sorry,”

“no no don’t be,” they reassure you. “You should stay in bed if you're not feeling up to it.”

“is that okay?” you ask quietly.

“Sure, they’ll understand. go back to sleep and I’ll check on you in a little bit, okay?” your only answer is a slow nod that pushes the fabric of the pillow roughly across your cheek. The door clicks shut and you drift off into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

The time is a mystery when your eyes flicker open next. The world doesn't feel real as your head hammers with an uncertain pain. You sniffle as you fall onto your back. That's when you spot Jordan approaching with a steaming hot beverage in their hand. “How you feeling?” you just groan extra loudly emphasising just how awful you felt about the entire situation. “so good then yeah,” the bed dips beside you and he reaches over with a free hand to check your head. you don’t feel particularly hot so it probably wasn’t a fever. “Mom made you some tea, said it’d fix you right up but don’t feel like you have to.”

pushing up into a seated position, Jordan hands over a mug decorated with little Christmas trees and snowflakes. a heavy sigh leaves your lips. it really did feel like more effort than it was worth just sitting up straight. you take a cautious sip and warmth spills through your veins. “I feel like I ruined today,” you mumble into your cup. staring down at the swirling liquid. “I should have mentioned earlier.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” Jordan expresses, a calming hand placed on your leg over the covers. “it’s not your fault you got sick.”

“I haven’t really felt great the last couple days but I thought it’d just go away.” you shrug, taking a much larger sip. “I really wanted to do Christmasy things with you. your parents probably think I’m awful.”

“They don’t think that,” they chuckle softly. “just focus on getting better and we can do Christmasy things tomorrow. they won’t mind.”

“thank you for the tea,” you reply handing back the drink.

“and besides,” he takes the drink back. “you’re giving me an excuse to get away from them. I need a break every now and then.“are you hungry?” you shake your head slowly. falling back down against the bed.

“tired.”

they just chuckle. “I’m gonna sit here a moment longer before I brace my parents again. just ignore me.”

the room is shrouded in darkness when Jordan enters once more. a crack of light filtering through the door. you don’t bother acknowledging them; just pull the thick duvet closer to your chest. a heavy sigh fills the air but it doesn’t come from you. the bed dips beside you. “are you awake?” they ask but you don’t bother answering. a silence a silence falls over the room as they shuffle about doing god only knows what. “I’m sorry you got sick,” Jordan speaks aloud. “I wish you could have spent the day with us. my parents can be a lot but they do go all out for Christmas… and I was looking forward to giving you your present,” their voice is quiet and you’re not sure if you should admit to being awake now. “my parents would have loved it. they’re already obsessed with you and they’re so happy I finally brought someone home. and I was gonna tell you I love you” After a moment you know they’re climbing into bed with you. an arm around your waist. you roll over to face them. “maybe tomorrow.”

“you’re gonna get sick,” mumbled out.

“I don’t mind,”

“Are you sure?”

“mhmm,” hummed softly and you don’t bother arguing. you just snuggle closer to his chest. they feel safe and comforting. a welcomed addition to your cosy domain. “I’m glad you’re here,”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you repeat against their chest. “and for what it’s worth. I… love you too.”

“you heard all that,” you don’t respond just shuffle further into his embrace. falling asleep to the sound of their heartbeat as a gentle kiss is pressed against your head.

#jordan li #gen v #jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #the boys

145 notes · View notes

karmic-vibes · 2 years

Text

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use—she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

585 notes · View notes

hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 8 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 Day Sixteen

Table Sex

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

“When did that happen?” Ghost stared at the new pool table as Price held open the door to the break room. Soap looked up as they entered, nodding to them before going back to staring down at his phone.

“A couple of weeks ago. You’d notice sooner if you ever spent any time here.” Price shook his head. “Anything else, or are you alright to get on?”

“I’ll manage.”

“You’d better. You’re off for a month, Simon, and I don’t want to hear anything about you trying to get yourself back on a mission before then.”

“I got it, Price. Sit around with my thumb up my ass for a month.”

“If that’s what it will take to keep you sat down.” Price clapped his hand on Ghost’s shoulder as he left the room.

Ghost didn’t follow him, instead walking over to Johnny.

“You sure it’s your own thumb you want on your ass? Not mine?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.” Ghost pushed the mask up and pulled Johnny close to kiss him.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“You’ve got me for a while. Captain’s orders.”

“I know, I heard.” Soap tapped his hands against the edge of the table. “Feeling nostalgic about this, then?”

“Why would I? It’s just a pool table.”

“It’s not just a pool table. It’s where you taught me to take back shots, remember? And, made your aim that much better because you got sick of having to put a towel down first.”

“The lip on you, Sergeant, anyone might think you need a remedial lesson in taking things that are given to you.”

“My schedule is open. Whenever you’re free.”

Ghost grabbed Soap’s face and mashed their mouths together. Fucking hell, he could not get enough of Soap. The glib mouth, fuckable ass, attention grabbing hands, he wanted all of it and more. He was going to fucking take it too, since Soap offered so nicely.

Ghost grabbed Soap by the hips and spun him around, securing one hand on the back of his neck as he bent Soap over the table.

Soap grunted as he hit the top. “Lucky there aren’t any balls out, then that might have actually hurt.”

“You want balls, Johnny, you can have mine.”

“Aye, that sounds fair.”

Ghost shoved Soap’s shirt up, gathering the material at his shoulders to expose Soap’s back and give him a nice target to work with.

Soap mumbled something about how chilly the room was, and shook his ass as Ghost took his sweet time, running his hand down Soap’s spine.

“I’m getting there, Johnny. Don’t worry.” Ghost patted Soap’s ass before pulling his trousers down. Soap tried to widen his legs, but the jeans bunched around his thighs made it difficult, and Ghost pinning him in place by pressing his hard cock against Johnny’s ass made it impossible. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know that?”

“I’ll make you an album. Something for you to take with you next time you’re away.”

“You don’t have to be nice like that.”

“Why not? You do nice things for me.”

“You think this is me being nice?” Ghost pressed his thumb into Johnny’s ass, watching the Sergeant squeeze around the intrusion.

“Uh… yeah?” Johnny tiled his hips as much as he could against the table. “Is it not…?”

Ghost chuckled, rubbing Soap’s insides with his thumb as he waited for him to relax. Soap struggled under him, pulling one of his arms back to get something out of his pocket.

Ghost snorted when Soap dropped a bottle of lube on the table. “What was the plan if I didn’t stay, Sergeant?”

“I would have come and found you. Price would probably encourage it, just to get you doing something other than sitting in your office and moping…”

Ghost snorted again, and pulled the mask off, dropping it onto the table as he reached for the bottle. “So, Johnny. Is this me being nice, or not?”

“Uh…” Soap fumbled for his answer as he felt lube drip on his hole. Ghost’s thumb was being replaced with his fingers. “Yes. Very… very nice.”

“Very good.” Ghost pushed his own jeans down, and pressed the head of his cock just underneath where his fingers were curled up inside Soap’s ass, holding them there as he spread the lube over his dick. “And now?”

Soap sucked in a breath as Ghost pulled his fingers out of Soap’s ass, and then choked on it when Ghost replaced them with his dick.

“Better, much better, fucking great.”

Soap groaned unashamedly as Ghost fucked his dick into him, whining whenever Ghost pulled it out even slightly, unconsciously tightening his ass to try and stop him from leaving each time. Ghost turned Soap’s head to the side so he could watch as Soap’s eyes lost focus, his lips parting to huff out breaths in between the whorish noises he was making.

“This suits you.”

“H-huh?” Soap tried to turn his head, but Ghost kept it still, stroking the back of Soap’s neck.

“Taking things like you're meant to. Looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” Soap huffed out. “Are you actually… going to give me — fuck!”

Ghost cut Soap off by dragging his hips back, Soap’s ass widening to take his cock perfectly as he fucked it back in. “That something enough for you?”

“More, more, please…”

“Just don’t drool on the table, yeah?”

Soap flushed and brought one of his hands up to his head, resting his cheek on it as his eyes slid closed.

Ghost was trying to keep a strong, hard rhythm going, but it wasn’t going to happen on his injured knees. He grabbed at every part of Soap that he could reach, enjoying the soft groans Soap was letting out against his hand. Ghost wanted to break Soap over this table, to leave him a babbling mess, covered in bruises and Ghost’s cum, on display for everyone to see that Soap belonged to him. He wanted to stamp his mark so irreversibly on Soap that Soap would know Simon’s name before his own, but that would have to wait for another time. One where he wasn’t on medical rest, and Soap had some time off to recover from that kind of treatment.

Today, he’d have to make do with some nice treatment, which was still very nice, and actually shaping up to be a welcome change of pace. Ghost groaned as Soap squeezed around him again, and this time his cock twitched inside his ass, almost like a response. He had to be careful. He was going to follow through on his promise of cumming on Soap’s back, and he couldn’t let a drop spill off. It would ruin the effect of being able to pull Soap’s shirt back down and stick it to his back, which would make Ghost’s work visible to everyone when Soap had to duck back through the barracks.

Soap stiffened under him, his groan petering off into an actual moan, telling Ghost that Soap had managed to cum in his pants.

“Good, good on you Johnny.” Ghost murmured and pulled his cock out of Soap’s ass, fisting himself quickly and spreading his cum over Soap’s back, stroking the back of his neck as he pulled Soap’s shirt down.

“You know how to do it right, Ghost.”

“Course I do.” Ghost helped Johnny up, pulling his mask back on as Soap did his jeans up.

“Did good. The table’s still like new.”

“Been broken in properly, though.”

“With no stains to prove it.”

“You give me so little credit. Besides, if there were any, I’d just tell Price they’re yours.”

“You wouldn’t.” Soap grabbed Ghost’s arm, like they did when they sparred.

“Hey, hey. I’m injured, remember? You have to be gentle with me.”

“You’re bloody lucky.” Soap winced as he felt his shirt stick to his back. “I’ll be back. I’ll fucking show you gentle.”

Soap hurried from the room, leaving Ghost with a harsh smack on his ass.

89 notes · View notes

captainjamster · 6 days

Text

A Surprise Exception

Pairing(s): Kate Laswell x F!Reader Warnings: pre-established strained relationship with sibling, non-sexual intimacy, post-sex cuddling and talks Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: Kate really does not like children, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s having any. No one is changing her mind – but someone else might convince her they’re not all terrible. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: A few notes for this one! This was written all in one go, so I will probably come back to edit it at some point. While I normally write neutral SFW inserts, reader identifies as a woman because I won't write Kate that isn't a lesbian <3 Pre-established strained relationship w/ sibling is an important tag. This is not a generalised portrayal of single parents; this is an insert specifically with family difficulties, and a couple trying to navigate that with understanding but not permissive boundaries. Also, I hate reading baby talk too, I'm sorry! But I can't make a four year old talk like an adult, so her speech pattern just follows the overgeneralisation of grammatical rules most children engage in developmentally. Lastly, child-free individuals have every right to be child-free, this specifically isn't a "MC changes their mind suddenly" fic. Laswell just realises that not every single child makes her want to remove her ovaries

Full fic under the cut <3

“No.” Her voice is firm, lips tight in that frown that you know means business. It doesn’t deter your dramatics, eyes pleading, hands clasped in front of you. “Please!”

“I told you, no kids.” She turns back to the countertop, sipping at the black coffee you’d just placed in front of her. The room basks in the pale sunrise, orange tinting the walls as light shines from the document Kate is already pouring herself over.

“Kate, it’s just one kid –“

“No! We talked about this at the very beginning. No kids, you agreed.”

You inhale deeply, squashing down a frustrated sigh as the pressure of your palms turns your vision fuzzy for a second. “Yes, I know I agreed – but come on!”

There’s a pause as your words linger in the air, and Kate’s shoulders drop. “Come on?”

You reel back, groaning. “No, I’m sorry – I’m sorry, not like that, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and I just feel misunderstood, like you’re not… getting it.”

“Because there’s nothing to get; because we both made a very clear agreement when we started this relationship.” Her tone is final, but you don’t back down.

“Kate!”

She exclaims your name in exasperation, swinging back around on the barstool as she white-knuckles the tablet in her hands.

“Okay, okay – just, okay, just hear me out. Please.” You try not to wilt under her disapproving look, but she doesn’t stop you, and you take the opportunity at full speed. “It’s not even for the whole day, just six hours! I’ll take her out to the park for a bit, I promise we won’t track mud in, and we’ll take a bath, I’ll dry her in the bathroom right after.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust with the shake of her head. “That’s good and all, but our rug? The couch? My office?”

Your head is shaking adamantly before her sentence ends. “She won’t step foot in your office, I won’t even let her go up the stairs, and I’m going to watch her the whole time.”

Disbelief is etched into her frown. “It’s a kid, babe. You’re fantastic, but you’re not magic. She’s gonna make a mess no matter how hard you try.”

Your mouth opens and closes, every retort coming up futile, and defeat quickly sinks in. Your shoulders slouch, a pout pulling at your lips as you take up the stool next to her, slumping over the cool granite top. The sigh Kate breathes is long, putting down the tablet. “Your sister’s asked us for this last-moment shit plenty before.”

“I know, but it’s different this time,” you mumble into your arms.

“And why is this ‘emergency’ any different?”

“Because she said the whole place still smells like insecticide, and she doesn’t trust the babysitter to know what to do if it makes Lottie sick, he’s barely seventeen. I don’t think she’s lying; I dropped off a grocery pickup on my way home from the store yesterday, and it really did stink.”

Kate bites at the inside of her lip, contemplating. “Can we not just give her money for a proper one?”

You look up incredulously, and Kate’s expression immediately crumples. “Sorry, yeah. That was stupid, I know we said no more giving her money.”

You return back to your forlorn position, tracing mindless shapes that leave a quickly evaporating trail of body heat.

“Honey, if we say yes, she’s going to keep asking us. I don’t want to set a precedent.” Her expression is sympathetic as you peer over the ruffled humps of your sleeve, a hand settling on your thigh. “She had time to get a better replacement, it’s not like the house started stinking yesterday. I’m not letting you play unpaid full-time caregiver again.”

You slide your own hand over hers, grip curling around the ring nestled against the base of her finger. “I know Kate, it won’t go that far. She can ask, but I swear, this will be the only time she ever stays at our house until she’s older. If she ever pulls this again, I’ll pack an overnight bag and go over there – I’ll go to our parents, if I really have to.”

“And she’s really going to work this time?” Kate probes, arms crossed. “This isn’t another “oh, I was definitely at ‘work’, but then I went on this date with a cute guy I just happened to meet on my ‘lunch break’ and forgot to block you from seeing the photos on my story?””

“I made triple sure – she sent me her schedule for the whole month, and a confirmation text that she’d be late this morning with a response from her boss. She already sent the interview confirmation when she got it, and she showed me the congratulatory email when we went out for drinks too.”

Before Kate can speak, you hold up your hand. “And I know, those can be easily faked. So, she’s going to share her location with me when – if we say yes – she gets there, and I’ll call her work line at some random point so Lottie can talk to her, to make sure. She’d be putting in more effort to fabricate this than she would actually getting the job.”

The air feels thick as Kate stays quiet – just looks over your face, searching for something.

“I’m not helping.” She concedes after a long pause, and you bolt up straight, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep back a loud cheer.

“I mean it, I’m going to be in my office. I’ll come out for lunch and say hello, I’m not going to ignore the kid. But no begging to play games, no help cleaning up messes or disasters, no picking you up halfway if her legs get tired.” She tilts her head, an eyebrow raised expectantly, amusement in those pretty blue eyes as she gazes at you.

“Nothing, I swear to god, baby. I’ll have lunch ready at around 12, I’ll just text you and you can come down.” You bring her hand to your lips, peppering kisses across her knuckles, making sure to be generous over her ring with a cheeky smile that Kate fondly rolls her eyes at.

Charlotte warbles a rhyme she learnt in day-care as you pull into your street, kicking her feet in time with the ticking of the indicator as you stop in the driveway. She makes a loud squawk as you reach for the door handle, a small glare peering up at you through the window to warn your hand away from it. You watch as she tugs at it until the latch clicks, using her legs to swing it open. “I did it all by myself!”

You give her a bemused smile, holding out a hand that she accepts as her little legs stretch to meet the pavement. “Yeah sweetie, you did it all by yourself, good job opening it. You wanna grab your bag, or should Auntie do it?”

Charlotte gives you the most withering look a four year old can muster, sighing loudly as she grabs the straps of her backpack from the floor. “Don’t you know I’m a big girl now? I gotta carry my own bag, Mama said.”

The pressure in your chest hurts as your throat constricts, desperately holding your breath to avoid laughing at the very serious mistake you’ve just made. “I’m – ah, sorry, I’m so sorry Lottie. You are a big girl now, yes.”

All is forgiven as you extend your hand again, and Charlotte skips up the short driveway by your side, backpack clunking with each step. “Was my singing good Auntie?”

You hum approvingly, swinging your arm gently. “It was great, honey. You know so much about bugs!��

She gives you a pleased, toothy grin, her face scrunched up in exaggeration. Before you open the to the door, you halt, crouching down to your niece’s level. She frowns at you inquisitively, gaze moving between your face and the door. “Alright, sweetheart. You remember what I said?”

Her expression dissolves into a sassy squint, nose scrunched up in distaste of your obviously silly adult ways. “Auntie, you told me like – like a million times!”

“I know, I know. Can you say it back to me, just one more time?”

With a roll of her eyes, she takes a deep breath, holding up a finger for each instruction you’ve given her. “Auntie Kate is really really busy, so we gotta be quiet, not be yelling, and I can’t be going up the stairs and being distracting.”

You nod in encouragement, giving her a smile. “And?”

Charlotte frowns, thinking for a moment, before her eyes light up. “And no making messes!”

She throws her arms up as you cheer, her chubby cheeks squished between them. “Yay! Inside now?”

You clap your hands to your thighs, standing up to reach for the handle. “Yep, inside now.”

Charlotte barrels through the door before it’s even fully open, almost pulled back as her bag is caught in the opening, and you catch her hand to stop her from running off. “Hold up, cowgirl! Those shoes need to come off first.”

You shuck off your own, watching as Charlotte tugs at hers, before helping her line them neatly against the wall. Coming out the hallway, to your surprise, Kate is sitting on the couch. You shoot her a confused frown as you walk closer, but she just comes over to meet you halfway, crouching down to Charlotte’s level. “Hey, sweetheart, I wanted to say hi again. Remember me?”

Charlotte lingers near your leg, her hand scrunched up in your pants as she looks your wife up and down. “You’re Auntie Kate.”

She gives a small smile, nodding slowly. “Yep. That’s right.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond, fingers in her mouth nervously. The room is quiet for a second as Kate looks equally unsure, twisting her hands together as she speaks again. “What… have you been up to lately?”

Your niece looks at her owlishly, round eyes slowly blinking.

“I punched a boy.”

Kate’s eyes widen, taken aback with an expression you mirror. “You punched a boy?”

Your niece nods solemnly, looking down at her scrunched up fist with a dramatic reminiscence. “He told my friend – he said, he was really mean, and he said girls can’t ride bikes, and he uhm – he did this,” she explains, making a sharp pushing motion into the air, “and she falled off and got hurted and she was really sad. And then I was sad, and then I did my fist like this and punched him!”

She raises her fist to Kate, a proud look on her small face, and you watch Kate struggle to keep the corners of her lips from peeking up. “Wow, I see. Did you get in trouble?”

Charlotte’s pigtails bounce as she shakes her head confidently, bringing a leg up to point at it as she balances on the other. “Nuh-uh, ‘cos my friend had all the blood on her knee and she was crying.”

Kate nods, clasping her hands together, already out of her depth with the look she gives you. “Right. Okay. Well, no punching anyone or falling off things while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright!” Charlotte chirps, giving Kate the same toothy grin. She gives a smile back before shooting you an impressed but shocked look that you just shrug at, grinning. Kate shakes her head, and you catch and squeeze her hand, pressing your lips to hers appreciatively before she scampers off. “Thank you, I love you.”

The wink she directs your way sends butterflies through your stomach, and they erupt as she calls out, retreating up the stairs. “Don’t worry! You’ll make it up to me.”

Charlotte peers down at the puzzle, hands on her hips as she balances the towel on her head. Impossibly happy voices sing from the TV as a show she begged for plays, and you catch a blue dog playing a xylophone with her orange sister when you peak around the corner to check on your niece. “Everything going okay, pumpkin?”

The puzzle is very uncomplete, but she’s been following your advice of finding all the border pieces, given the little pile she’s accumulating concentratedly. “We can get an easier one, honey. 50 pieces is a lot.”

Charlotte looks up at that, unimpressed. “I already did 10 pieces of jigsaw!”

With a shrug, you disappear back into the kitchen, cutting up the last toppings on your board as you call out again. “Alright, that’s fine. But lunch will be ready in 10 minutes, so we’ll take a break then, okay?”

A small grumble of acknowledgement comes from the floor, and you get back to it. Before long, the sandwiches are plated up, and Kate’s salad is in a bowl with her plate. Charlotte makes less fuss than you’d thought as she drags her feet over to the table, clambering up the chair to sit down. Grabbing your phone, you send off a text, shoving it back in your pocket before bringing the plates over. Charlotte eyes the sandwiches, peeking through the layers of bread. “Is it good?”

You laugh, picking up your own slice. “I hope so. Your mama said it’s your favourite.”

“No way!” She perks up excitedly, grabbing a quarter and taking a big bite. Kate descends from her office a few minutes later, cup in hand and making a beeline for the kitchen. She comes out with a fresh cup a moment later, taking a seat across from you. “Thanks for brewing a pot, honey,” she murmurs, scooping up a spoonful of salad. “Have you girls been having fun?”

Charlotte hums through a mouthful, wiggling in her chair. “Shaw ducksh at th’prk!”

Kate tries to hold back a grimace, cringing at the food around her mouth, and you send her an apologetic look as you speak up. “Swallow your food first, Lottie.”

Between chews, she narrows her eyes at you, but swallows before speaking again. “There was a mama and her babies.”

The meal is spent in a very one-sided conversation about your trip to the park as Charlotte earnestly recounts every detail, informing Kate about all the kinds of bugs she found under the rocks. The girl is on a long rattle about the spots on ladybug shells when Kate clears her throat, stacking her dishes together, and Charlotte cuts herself off. “No more food already?”

“I have work to finish,” Kate explains as she stands up, “and I’m sure you’re excited to play with Auntie for the last hour you’re here, right?”

A misty expression crosses Charlotte’s dirty face at the realisation, her bottom lip puckering out. “But what if I goed home and comed back after I sleep?”

Kate gives you a pointed look as she disappears around the corner, and you close your eyes for a moment as dishes clink against the metal sink, silently cursing. “Remember we talked about that, babes? You got day-care tomorrow, and I’ll come see you on the weekend.”

Charlotte brightens up temporarily at the mention of day-care, but you can see the moment she realises it’s ‘stopping’ her from coming over as her expression dampens again. “Can we go see ducks on the weekend?”

“Yeah honey, we can see the ducks again.” You nod, leaning back in your chair as Charlotte shoves the last of her sandwich into her mouth. Closing your eyes, your head falls back until it meets the wooden frame, taking a moment to sink down and relax. But tension suddenly springs back into them as fingers slide under your chin, your eyes opening to meet an upside down Kate.

“Hey beautiful,” she murmurs, and you giggle in her grasp, humming as she presses her lips to yours. “Thanks for lunch. You’re so sweet, keeping me fed.” She gives your cheek an affectionate pat, pulling away and heading to the stairs as you sit up and give her a scandalised look at her teasing praise. Footsteps against the floor patter behind you, and Charlotte darts past Kate to the door before you can question her.

“Auntie Kate!”

Your wife pauses, and you can see her breathe in before she turns. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Charlotte drags her bag over, crouching down and rummaging through its depths to pull something out. It takes you a moment to recognise the scraggly stems and squashed petals, but Charlotte shoves them out in offering with the confidence of someone holding a thousand dollar bouquet. “Auntie said you like flowers, and I thoughted maybe you got no flowers inside, so I got the best ones for you!”

Kate’s face pinches into something you’ve never seen before, and you debate stepping in before she crouches down, extending her hand to take the ragged bundle. “That was really thoughtful of you, Charlotte.” She takes a moment to smell them – more for Charlotte’s sake, you think –, and gives the kid a soft smile. “Thank you for getting me flowers. I’ll be happy to have them in my office now, hey?”

You can see Charlotte’s fingers twist and intertwine as they meet behind her back, shoulders up high as she sways happily, and you can only imagine the grin she’s giving Kate. “You’re welcome!” She chimes, grabbing her bag and hauling it back to the door. You watch Kate take in the flowers as they droop over her hand, standing up as she casts a look over at Charlotte, running back to the table. Your gazes connect as she flickers to you, a grin filling her face as she gestures the flowers at you, to which you flap your hand towards the stairs cheekily.

Your phone buzzes as you turn on the tap for Charlotte, and you pull it out as she dries her hands, tapping in on the photo of the flowers in a tall glass next to her computer.

<< Can’t wait to see yours. ;)

“I still hate kids.”

“I know,” you sigh happily into her collarbones, pressing a kiss against a mole there. Her skin is still soured by sweat, and you hum appreciatively at the taste, basking in the post-orgasmic daze washing through your limbs. Everything feels warm, exertion mingling with fatigue to settle across you in a sleepy blanket, and you can’t stifle a yawn that bubbles up.

“She was sweet, though. Thought she’d be more of a menace.”

A hum is all you get out, listening to the patter of her heart.

“We’re never having them.”

Kate squirms at the way you huff in amusement against her skin at the remark, tilting up to give her a look. “I know, honey. Wasn’t planning on changing my mind.”

She grins, running her nails across your scalp, bringing you back against her bare chest. “Thought I fucked that sass out.”

You snort, dipping out your tongue to run against her jugular, kissing the damp trail. “The only thing that recovers faster than your libido is my attitude.”

Kate laughs at that, nudging her leg further up between your thighs to make you squeak. “Now you’re trying to wind me up, close your damn eyes.”

“Uh-huh. I remember them being closed before you reminded me you hate kids.”

You whimper as her fingers tug in reprimand at your hair before resuming their strokes, rustling accompanying the sound of breathing in the moonlight room. There are lights swirling in barely visible colours as you fall further into a world between here and unconsciousness, and you feel weightless, floating in nothingness with the only person you’ve ever wanted by your side.

“… She wasn’t that bad, though.”

“Kate, go to sleep.”

dividers by cafekitsune

#laswell x reader #kate laswell x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings

21 notes · View notes

frozenjokes · 23 days

Text

A Matter Of Fairness Or Maybe Fear

the next part of the mumbomaid au is four separate mini stories that will be posted as one chapter on ao3, but I thought it might be cool to post them separately here (and since this one’s done, I thought I might post it earlier before the rest goes up on ao3 >:D)

This call marked Scar’s 129th over the course of two days, and quite frankly, his persistence was starting to wear at Etho’s resolve. Maybe ‘resolve’ wasn’t quite the right word actually- patience might be better. This marked the sixth day Etho had been stuck in a little outlet away from home, burying himself in the mud day in and day out, and he was really getting sick of it- sick of Joel, actually, and Scar calling him every free moment of the day was getting quite frustrating when he was waiting on messages from Joel.

Etho let it ring. It wouldn’t stop Scar. Yesterday while sending Joel a very long and very angry message, Etho had accidentally declined Call 4 before the first ring concluded, so Scar knew Etho had his phone. Since then, Etho had also accidentally declined Call 7, 68, 70, and 103.

Call 129 ended and Call 130 began. Call 130 did not end before Bdubs rang at the same time, and that hurt, so Etho submerged himself to avoid it. Soon enough, it too was over. Scar’s insistent calling replaced Bdub’s ringtone without pause.

131. 132. 133.

Finally, it stopped, Scar probably running out of time on his work break. Thank god. Etho had enough on his plate without Scar breathing down his neck, but if he was really being honest, being bitter about Scar’s knowledge on his and Joel’s split souls probably wouldn’t change his behavior today. Scar had a habit of spam calling, and Etho did not know him to give up.

Call 134 just a couple of minutes after the 133rd snapped the last remaining thread of Etho’s patience.

Etho pounced on his phone, picking up with a wrathful hiss, “Stop calling me,” before hanging up. After Call 173, Etho was pretty sure this would never end until he grew a pair and answered the phone. With great disdain, he accepted Scar’s call.

“Hello? Etho? Are you there?”

Etho didn’t respond for a while, too busy fuming to speak. “I’m here.”

“Are you in immediate peril? Do you have time to talk?”

“I have time.” Etho spoke every word through gritted teeth. Scar was quiet for a long moment.

“Then hang the fuck up and call Bdubs you fucking asshole. He’s one more anxiety attack away from filing a missing person’s report, and I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t already! He’s convinced you’re dead in a ditch somewhere or kidnapped or something, and I don’t blame him. If you have your phone and you’re not bleeding out on the fucking rocks, there is literally NO REASON you haven’t called him.”

The wind of Scar’s anger left a heavy silence in its wake. Etho wasn’t quite sure how to break it, but he had a feeling Scar wasn’t going to just let him hang up without another word.

“I can’t call him,” he said instead, all too aware that Scar’s assault of his ears would only continue.

“Give me one good reason why you can’t call your best friend and tell him you’re okay. It’s nearly been a week, Etho, come on. The longest you’ve ever been gone at a time is three days, and you told us beforehand. And I swear to god if you say-“

“Scar, I can’t just call him, I’m not human.”

“You don’t have to fucking video call him!”

“I sound different, Scar. I can’t,” Etho insisted, desperation spilling through in sick waves. Scar didn’t get it. How could he make Scar understand? “What if he asks where I am? What am I supposed to tell him? I can’t call him.”

“You do not sound different! At all!”

“I do.”

“I didn’t notice! It can’t be that bad. Over the phone it won’t even matter- I can not believe you’re fighting me on this. Come on.”

“I can’t, Scar,” a soft whistle broke through behind the words, making Etho feel all the more pathetic. He didn’t want to be here. He’d give anything to be home right now, not worried about being seen or overpowered or caught- he’d give anything to go home, eat normal food- He had work too, he had deadlines! He didn’t want to be in this position at all! Etho didn’t- he didn’t want to upset Bdubs either, of course not, but how was he supposed to explain?

“When are you going to be home then, Etho? Because I need to tell him something. I’m going to tell him- at least that you’re okay. Do you even understand what you’re putting him through right now? Would you really rather let him think you’re in trouble than have a difficult conversation with your best friend?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, Scar. This isn’t my fault- it’s not like I want to be away at all! Please don’t.”

“I’m not mad that you’re not home, Etho. I’m mad because you have a phone to call your roommate with and you’re not using it.”

“He’ll ask questions.” Voicing the thought sounded so much worse, so irredeemably meager. He was being selfish, wasn’t he. Scar was right. But Scar didn’t- Scar didn’t understand the fear- the anxiety- How easy it must be for Scar to stand by the sidelines and tell Etho what was right and wrong. He had no idea.

Scar interrupted his train of self righteous anger before it could build further, “Bdubs has every damn right to ask questions! And even then, he probably won’t. He’d do anything to keep from stepping on your toes on issues like this, even when you treat him like shit. I’m serious. This is fucked. This is cruel. Cleo’s worried sick as well- we’re all worried.” Scar stopped with a huff and Etho heard him mess with his hair over the line, “You know what, this is a waste of time. I’m just going to call him.” Scar hung up without another word, lighting a sharp panic in Etho’s chest. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. But he didn’t want an angry Scar telling Bdubs anything about his situation much more.

He fumbled over Bdubs’ contact, pressing several wrong buttons before finally dialing his number. The phone didn’t even pass the first ring.

“Etho? Hello?” Bdubs spoke, drying the words off Etho’s tongue. Not that he had anything to say in the first place. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for this. His mind seemed to dry up as well, leaving nothing but static in the wake of his panic. “Are you there? Etho?” Bdubs’ voice was faint. Terrified.

Sudden guilt wracked his body, physical in its pain like being caught in the middle of a head-on collision. “I’m here,” his voice shook, but he was hardly aware of it, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Bdubs was quiet, the silence crushing, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Neither of them spoke, tension thrumming through the air just as clear as audible sound. Etho didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again. This was so much worse than he’d ever imagined this conversation going, and he had imagined it.

…

Bdubs sobbed, and all at once Etho crumbled. Mermaids didn’t have the right anatomy to cry, but Bdubs didn’t question the strained noises of distress that bubbled out of Etho’s throat. Bdubs never did question anything, did he? Not to do with Etho’s disappearances. Not for years.

That wasn’t really fair at all, was it.

That wasn’t fair at all.

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #ethoslab #etho #bdubs #bdouble0 #the clockers #hermitfic

21 notes · View notes

reds-skull · 5 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I'm going back to my parent's house for the holidays, so I'm probably gonna post less in the next couple of days...

Soap’s eyes dart between the 3 revenants in the room, wide and fearful.

Ghost watches how he turns it into rage.

“I’m not a ‘revenant killer’, whatever the fuck they call it.” Soap snarls, glaring at the screen as if he’s looking at Laswell, “I wasn’t killed by a revenant.”

Laswell exhales, Ghost can imagine the smoke streaming from her mouth, “a revenant killer is a revenant that is made to combat other revenants. You were created to defeat whoever killed your squad - to kill Konchar.”

Johnny’s revenge… the reason they’re both stronger than they truly had to be. And yet, they’re different, Ghost muses.

Soap wanted retribution for his dead mates. Ghost? He wanted payback for his own.

Johnny clutches at his hair, hands burning bright, fire crackling dangerously. Ghost takes hold of his left hand, gently pulling it away from his warhawk.

“Johnny.” Soap glares at him.

“So much fuckin’ evil comes out because I lived that day, Simon. Sometimes I’m real feckin’ sick of it.”

Soap tries to fight his hold, but Ghost pulls him closer, towering over him, “then do something about it. The past is unchangeable, you’re already alive. What are you gonna do about it.”

Ghost squints, his voice lowers, “you wanted revenge? Let’s fucking get it, Sergeant.”

Flames dance in blue skies, anger and rage that knows no bounds, uncontrollable forest fire decimating everything in its path.

Johnny nods, determination fueling his flames.

Laswell was the last break they needed before they could truly form a rescue operation. She informs them of Graves’ power limits, his priorities, the reason he captured a platoon’s worth of revenants.

He aims for Soap. One giant bait the American knows Johnny would never ignore. If they could get their hands on the original revenant killer, they hope to be able to replicate his “success”. Create a pipeline of vengeful not-dead.

Gaz will cover the skies, radio in locations of shadows, suspicious movements, and if he can, the locations of their teammates.

Ghost, Soap and Rudy will take to the underground, tunneling under the prison and freeing Alejandro. From then on, it’s a race against time, Gaz and Alejandro using their abilities to find everyone, and Rudy and Soap clearing the Shadows from their paths.

Once everyone is outside his range, Ghost will use Limbo to annihilate any remaining Shadows. Before that, Ghost’s main objective is keeping Johnny safe. Limbo’s new docile state brings with it the long-lost control he had on the realm, the ability to create only a small circle of void around him, one that Ghost thought he’ll never have again. That means, if any Shadows try to grab at Johnny, Ghost will simply let his victims rip them apart.

They don’t have the element of surprise in that Graves is waiting for them, but what the Shadow Company revenant doesn’t know is how much they understand his limitations, as well as Ghost and Soap’s changed powers.

Laswell has to leave soon after they finish planning, Shepherd breathing down her neck. She promises to do anything that might help them, but their group is operating outside any government jurisdiction as of now.

Meaning, if they were to fail, no one will come to save them.

They have one shot. Ghost prays the Reapers that’s all they’ll need.

Johnny drags him to the back of the safe house right before they’re supposed to gear up, ignoring Ghost’s questioning hum.

He slams him against the wall, fingers digging into his shoulders, nostrils flaring with barely restrained anger.

“Let me get the kill on Graves, LT.” Soap says through clenched teeth, “this entire thing is my fault - I can fix this.”

Ghost tilts his head, mauling it over, “if the opportunity arises-”

“No.” flames grow in his peripheral, and Soap lets his hands fall away, “I need to kill him, I need-”

“Revenge?”

Ghost can see how Soap’s heart stops beating. How he stills. Ghost risks a hand, bringing it up to brush Johnny’s hair, wild and unruly from the previous days’ events. “I understand. But remember your first priority, Sergeant.”

Johnny closes his eyes, pushing lightly against Ghost’s hand, “get the others out alive.”

“The others and yourself, Johnny. Graves has his sights on you.” his hand travels down to Soap’s neck, pulling him closer, “if he catches you…”

Johnny nudges his head under Ghost’s. “I’m not easy to hold, Simon. Was made to destroy.”

Simon wraps his arms around Johnny, taking deep breaths of his smell, burning fireplace and safety.

Now that they practically disobeyed their Reapers, he’s not sure anymore that his Reaper’s prophecy isn’t null and void. If Johnny is still destined to kill him first. Simon’s mind conjures a million images, scenes of Johnny laying dead, body broken beyond repair, eyes vacant staring at the sky, never to meet Simon’s again.

“I’m going to be alright. I just told you I’m too strong for anyone’s good.” Johnny tries to joke under him, sensing his sudden tension.

Simon pulls him closer yet, “you’re still mortal, last I checked.”

A huff of breath tickles his neck, where the mask rucked up in light of Johnny’s wiggling. Simon brushes another hand over dark strands, ungloved hand tingling with the sensation, and he gets the urge to bury his face in it.

Simon is used to living in regret, in ‘what would’ve’s and ‘I should’ve’.

He doesn’t want Johnny to become another memory to fuel his aches.

Simon reaches above Johnny’s head, taking hold of the skull mask. With a deep breath, he slides it off his head.

“What are ye-” Johnny looks up in confusion, before his eyes soften, creases smooth over.

Blue eyes dart over his features, mapping the newfound grounds, tilling paths in their wakes. Simon can almost feel their weight, the burn, as they follow scars to landmarks.

A hand, white flames curling around it, raises slowly to brush over his skin, hot and cold, gentle yet firm. Simon feels tears gather in his eyes, and he lets his lids shut, head bowing to rest in calloused hands.

Johnny’s breath fans over his cheek, making him shudder, “didn’t know you had face markings.”

Simon opens his eyes, brows furrowing a little, “I don’t.”

Mirthful eyes follow a track down his cheek, “ye do… right here.” a thumb brushes from Simon’s lower eyelid, to his jaw. “They’re white, reminds me of yer eyes in Limbo…”

Tear tracks.

“They’re new…” Simon relaxes a little when he understands, “when you entered Limbo, I… my tears must’ve left them.”

“Fuck…” Johnny purrs, “You’re breathtaking, Simon.” he lifts Simon’s head when he tries to back away, “beautiful. Knew yer bonnie under that mask of yers.”

“Fuck off…” he turns away.

Johnny laughs, “I’m serious. Let me look at ye, please?”

Simon glares at him before relenting, Johnny resuming his examination, eyes and hands caressing him.

“Thank ye…” Johnny breathes, “thank ye fer… fer existing. Without ye, or Gaz, or Price… I wouldn’t have so many reasons to live.”

Simon inhales shakily, Johnny whispering now, “I couldn’t imagine wanting something more than repent before I met ye.”

“And now?”

He hears the small smile in Johnny’s voice, “now I want to be with ye, fer as long as I can. Fer as long as the Reapers will let me.”

Simon covers the hand on his face with his, “we don’t need permission from them. I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.”

Johnny gives him that crooked grin Simon had come to love so much, “I’m afraid that will be quite a while, m'eudail.”

The dirt in Las Almas doesn’t smell too different from his grave’s, Ghost decides. The mask is the only thing protecting his mouth from its taste, and even that feels too thin.

There’s no place for panic on the field, no space for the soldier inside Ghost to raise his head and shout “I’m scared.”

Soap’s controlled explosions burn that smell, transform it into something more familiar.

Fuck, he could kiss Johnny’s insane exploding hands right now.

Their comms crackle to life, “Shadows didn’t notice you yet, clear to continue pushing.” Garrick’s voice barely sounds over the explosions.

“WHAT?!” Soap yells up front.

Rudy cups his hands to shout back, “keep going, hermano! We’re in the clear!”

“COPY!”

Ghost waits for Rudy, walking beside him to check the map, “how close are we to cellar level?”

Rudy taps a pen over a point, “this is our target…” the pen moves down, stopping about 2 inches away from the cellar, “and this is where we should be, according to my calculations.”

Another explosion shakes their tunnel, Soap rushing back to burn off oncoming debris from the ceiling, “we need teh move faster than this! Tunnel’s not gonna hold!”

Ghost nods, clicking his comms, “Gaz, we’re going to start running, be prepared.”

“Copy, good luck down there.”

Rudy mutters under his breath in Spanish, “may the Reapers keep us alive.”

Soap looks back, “on the count of three!” his body tenses in preparation.

Two…

One…

“NOW!” Johnny lets go of the ceiling, sprinting ahead and practically melting his way, Ghost and Rudy running right behind him as the tunnel collapses.

The three revenants continue running, Gaz informing them the Shadows have started suspecting something’s afoot, until Rudy rushes ahead to grab Soap’s shoulder and shout in his ear, “stop! Alejandro should be right here!”

His Sergeant instantly lifts his hands above him to hold the ceiling. Ghost notes they’re now surrounded by concrete rather than dry earth.

Rudy adjusts the light attached to his tac vest, trying to calculate where Alejandro is exactly.

Ghost instantly aims at the left wall when something goes through it.

Alejandro appears, Rudy and Soap gaping at him, before the Colonel grabs Rudy into a hug. The Sergeant Major returns it after a second of stunned silence, and Alejandro starts mumbling something in Spanish, before he lifts his head and notices Soap.

“You bunch of pandejos! What is he doing here?!” he points at Johnny.

Soap grunts, “can we get to the accusations later?? I’m still holding the steamin’ ceiling!”

Ghost shoves the two Vaqueros out of the way, and Soap stretches a hand to explode the wall to Alejandro’s cell. They all rush inside with Soap behind them.

“Ghost.” Alejandro nods to Soap, “you are aware Graves is after him, right?”

“Affirm. We got intel from Laswell.”

The Vaquero scoffs, “and you still brought him here?!”

Johnny walks around Ghost to confront Alejandro, “I’m here on my own volition. Unless you wanted Rudy and Ghost to walk through the front gates.” he casts a challenging stare at the man.

Rudy lifts his hands like he’s trying to calm an angry beast, “Soap knows the risks. We needed to save you. Do you know where Graves holds the rest of them?”

Alejandro’s face relaxes when he looks at Rudy, “probably on the top floor of the prison. I didn’t see anyone since we got caught.”

“Shadows are moving on your location, Bravo!” Garrick shouts through the comms, “strongly suggest you start moving, now!”

Ghost searches the cell for an exit, spotting a trap door on the high ceiling, “you’re not hiding a ladder anywhere here, do you Alejandro?”

The Colonel shakes his head as Soap follows Ghost’s gaze, noticing the door.

“I’ll get it, stand back.” Johnny’s eyes are locked on the ceiling as he positions himself under the door.

Ghost’s brow furrow, “what are you planning, Sergeant?”

Soap smirks in a way that brings only trouble, and turns on his comms, “gonna use the rocket technique.”

Ghost has to shove the bloody thing away when Gaz shrieks, “without me?! Oh, I’m gonna get you back for this, MacTavish.”

“Sorry mate, maybe next time.” Johnny snickers.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grabs the two extremely confused Vaqueros, dragging them back, Rudy muttering “rocket?” and sighs heavily, “get on with it, Sergeant.”

Soap smiles at him before looking back up, “with pleasure, LT.”

His Sergeant drops to a crouch, placing his hands on the ground, and inhales. The cell is too damn small for this “technique”, and Ghost has to cover his face with a forearm when Soap explodes up.

Ghost lets his arm fall when he hears a comically loud THUNK when Soap hits his head on the door, watching the Sergeant scramble to hold the edges. Johnny twists his body in a remarkable feat of agility, and kicks the door open before swinging out.

A moment later, a ladder drops down, Johnny popping his head out of the door, “all clear!”

When they climb up, Ghost notices blood trickling down Soap’s temple, and he calls, “Johnny, how copy? Solid?”

The Scot lets out a frankly concerning laugh, “aye, think Ah got a wee concussion, bu’ it’ll heal in no time.”

“It fucking better, Sergeant.”

Soap offers a hand and helps Ghost up, “of course, sir.” he has a dopey smile when Ghost lets go of his arm, “have I ever told you how beautiful yer eyes are, LT?”

Ghost grabs the back of his neck and shoves him forward, ignoring the giggling Vaqueros behind him.

He’s going to smack Garrick for putting this idea in Johnny’s mind next time he sees him, fucking hell…

You guys don't know how long I've been waiting to put the rocket technique in a mission

41 notes · View notes

yournameoneverypage · 2 years

Text

Snuggle Bug

Shawn Mendes x Reader. Established relationship.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first sick fic...!! 🤒 Soft and fluffy, as per the request. I hope I did it justice and that y’all like it. ☺️

~*❤️*~

You threw yourself into your fiancé’s arms the moment you saw him step through the arrivals gate early Friday evening at Toronto’s Pearson airport. Shawn had been commuting between Los Angeles and New York for the past month and you had missed him something fierce.

He caught you like he usually did, but he almost lost his balance and, laughing softly, he set you back on your feet.

“Hi baby,” he sighed, enveloping you in his arms and burying his lips in the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” you hummed back, breathing in the scent of him. It was off in the slightest of ways, but you pushed your concern aside. It was probably just the smell of the flight still clinging to him.

You hadn’t ever been one of those couples who sucked face in public, so it didn’t wholly surprise you that he didn’t add a kiss to your greeting. There’d be plenty of time for that once you were, at the very least, behind the tinted windows of your vehicle.

He transferred his guitar case to the same side where he had his carry-on hooked over his shoulder so that he could have a hand free to link with yours. He leaned into you slightly.

“Tired, my love?” you murmured.

“A little,” he exhaled, unconvincingly.

You knew him well enough to tell when he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. He had been working himself to exhaustion in meetings with his team, writing and producing with musician friends, recording new music of his own, doing press for his movie, and house hunting. You could see it in his eyes with every FaceTime call.

He needed at least two full days’ rest wrapped in your arms, and that’s exactly what you were going to give him.

///

Shawn was dragging his feet as you made your way to where his Tesla was parked. He was definitely more tired than he let on. He never wanted you to worry about him, but of course, you did anyway, even when, - especially when, - he tried to assure you that he was fine.

You popped the trunk and reached for his guitar case and carry-on. “Get in the car, baby,” you smiled softly, touching his cheek. “I’ll take care of this.” He usually fought you on things like that, but this time he didn’t. He nodded thankfully and entered on the passenger side.

The moment you slid behind the wheel and closed the door after you, Shawn reached for your hand. “I’m so happy to be home,” he breathed, leaning over the console of the car and dropping small kisses along your jawline from your temple to your chin.

You knew when he said ‘home’ he didn’t necessarily mean Toronto. You were, after all, in the midst of relocating to LA. When he said ‘home’, he meant you. You were his home. You traveled with him as often as you could, - most of your work could be done remotely, - but the past month had been especially busy and you’d needed to be on site.

You were essentially doing the work of two as management strived to fill a couple of positions before your transition to full remote. Things had finally settled enough for you to take a few days off into the next week and you were going to spend every minute with Shawn, reconnecting and loving all over each other.

You tipped your head and his lips descended to your neck and you giggled. You took his face in your hands and finally claimed the kiss you’d been aching for for weeks.

He hummed contentedly as he eased away. “Missed your kisses, too.” He then brought your hand to his lips.

You tried to withdraw it but he tightened his grip as his head fell against the seat and his loving gaze met yours. He was so soft and clingy, which made sense as you hadn’t had any physical contact for way too long. You hated to ruin the moment, but you snickered, “I need both hands to get outta here, bub.”

“Get outta here then so I can have it back,” he murmured with a small smirk.

///

You and Shawn dropped his things inside your condo door. Unpacking and gifts, for he always brought you something from his travels, could wait a while longer.

“Dinner?” you asked, pulling him further inside, toward the kitchen, since he’d once again glued his hand to yours, and also his chin to your shoulder and his front to your back.

“Not hungry. Maybe later. Unless, of course, you’re hungry, my love.”

“I’m alright.” You turned around in his embrace and melted into his warmth. “How about a nap?”

It was music to his ears. He’d missed your bed almost as much as he’d missed you, and he particularly missed you in your bed. “Yes, please.”

‘Nap’ was usually synonymous with sex in your home, and the first thing you normally did when Shawn had been away, even if only for a few days, was make love. After a month, you were craving him, acutely.

But when he crawled into bed after you and curled himself around you, resting his head on your stomach, instead of pulling your and his clothes off, you knew he genuinely wasn’t feeling well.

You tangled one hand in his curls and scratched the fingernails of the other across his upper back beneath his tank top.

Shawn was always warm, but he seemed especially so that evening. “Are you okay, baby? You’re really warm.”

“’m fine,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You brought your hand from his hair to his forehead. “I don’t think you are,” you frowned. “I think you have a fever.”

“Don’t want you to worry ’bout me.”

“Too bad. It’s part of the job description as your devoted fiancée. As is taking care of you when you’re sick.”

“Don’t wan’be sick,” he pouted.

“Unfortunately, you can’t just wish it away, bub. I’m gonna get you some soup, because you really should eat something, and then see if we have some meds.” You began to extricate yourself from your clingy fiancé, but he further tightened himself around you.

“Stay. Please,” he whispered. “Just need you here. Just need some sleep. Be fine in th’mornin’.”

And with that, he was out like a light.

///

Surprisingly, you fell asleep almost as quickly. Now that Shawn was home again and in your arms where he belonged, and your body and mind truly realized you had a few days without deadlines or expectations ahead of you, you fell into your own sort of exhaustion.

You woke a few hours later, having barely moved, to a rumbling in your stomach. You contemplated whether or not to try to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Ultimately, you untangled yourself from Shawn, successfully this time, and padded into the kitchen to warm up some soup for you both. You would try to rouse him to eat and drink and take some medication before falling back to sleep for, hopefully, the entirety of the night. You wanted to try to get ahead of whatever was ailing him.

You felt his presence in the kitchen before you felt him wrap his arms around you from behind. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he whined, voice a little raspy.

You rubbed his forearms, now covered with the fleece of his favorite bear-stamped sweater. He must’ve gotten cold, even if you could still feel his body radiating heat. You looked over your shoulder to see heavy eyes, mussed hair, and pink-stained cheeks. It wasn’t fair; even when he was sick he was stupidly attractive.

“Sit,” you instructed, urging him toward the stools at the kitchen island. He did. “I want you to eat, drink, and take your meds,” you gently, yet firmly, demanded, placing a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and two Tylenol Cold and Flu capsules before him.

“I’m not sick,” he tried to argue.

You hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. “Humor me, bub.” You then sat beside him with your own bowl of soup and glass of water. He pulled you as close as possible without you ending up in his lap.

You weren’t satisfied till he’d slurped the last spoonful of chicken and vegetables, drained his glass of water, and swallowed his pills.

The short stop-off in the kitchen had exhausted him all over again.

“Go back to bed, baby, I’ll be there as soon as I clean up.”

Still, he offered, “I’ll help.”

“You will not. Go.”

“Can’t we clean up in the morning?” he frowned.

He looked so downtrodden, you didn’t want to deny him anything. You glanced around the kitchen, - it would take all of three minutes, - but before you could contest, Shawn’s hand was in yours and he was leading you back to your room.

After using the bathroom, and completing an abridged bedtime routine, you were back in bed and curled around one another, yet with less clothing. Shawn had again grown too warm and had divested himself of his sweater and tank top and you only wore your little boyshort underwear and one of Shawn’s old t-shirts.

“Do you wanna...?” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the tee and up your back.

He would put forth his best effort, even as tired and unwell as he was feeling, because he’d missed making love with you as much as you had, and he was selfless like that. But so were you. The intimacy of just being able to hold one another close enough to share breath was everything you needed right then.

There was no way you could get any closer than you were, but that didn’t stop him from trying to crawl into your skin.

“You can ravish me in the morning,” you promised with a smirk he could feel against the juncture between his jaw and ear.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and sighed an ‘I love you’ before his eyes fluttered closed.

///

Shawn’s tossing and turning began around 2am. He was alternately too cold, buried under the comforter and flush against you, or too hot, blankets thrown off and balancing his giant, sweat-sheened body on the edge of the mattress. Regardless, he still needed some sort of skin to skin contact at all times, reaching for you, even in sleep, if only to touch his fingertips to yours.

His fever hadn’t broken yet; in fact, he seemed a little warmer as he was currently facing you, with only his forehead touching yours, again in that ‘too hot’ state. You did your best to attune yourself to his hot and cold fluctuations and adjusted the blankets accordingly whenever you were conscious enough to do so.

He finally, thankfully, fell into a deep, restful sleep around four-thirty.

A rattling cough startled you awake just after eight.

“Sorry,” Shawn croaked.

“Come here, Love,” you murmured, drawing him toward you. You lovingly traced the contours of his face with your fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m sick,” he rasped, finally admitting what you already knew. “Shouldn’t’ve kissed you. Now you’re gonna get sick, too. ’m sorry.” His eyes were emotion filled and limned with unshed tears.

You shrugged. “We’ll be sick together then. No sorries, baby. Kissing you was, and is, worth the risk.” You moved to kiss him again.

He pulled his head away. “No. There’s still a chance to save yourself.”

You giggled. “I assume all responsibility. You can even say ‘I told you so’.”

“Oh, I will,” he smirked, but he could no longer deny you what you both wanted so badly. He brought his mouth to yours for a few moments of languorous kissing. He hummed against your lips.

When you eased away, you dipped your thumb in the divot of his chin. Your voice softened and cracked when you whispered, “It was too long without you this time.”

“I know,” he exhaled, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “Things will settle after the move.”

“You’re still too warm,” you said, kissing his forehead and frowning. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” he sniffled. “Throat’s sore. My chest is a little tight. My head hurts. My body hurts. ’m cold. You’re warm,” he sighed, cuddling even closer.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, and hot tea for your throat. And let’s get another dose of meds into you too, okay?”

He wasn’t hungry, and the thought of swallowing anything was currently a little overwhelming, but he was well aware that his immune system needed the boost. He also knew it would make you feel better if he at least tried to eat and hydrate. That alone was enough.

He reluctantly loosened his hold on you to allow you out of bed. You rounded to his side and organized a mound of pillows at his back. You turned on the television and asked, “What do you want to watch?”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “It’s Saturday morning.”

“Of course,” you chuckled and flipped to Cartoon Network. “How silly of me.” Saturdays were always no gym, breakfast in bed, cartoon mornings.

You peppered kisses along his jaw and into his neck. “Love you. I’ll be right back, ’k?”

His eyes, filled with adoration, found yours. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I love you.”

With an affectionate smile, you ran a hand gently through his curls before leaving him in the company of ‘6teen’ to go make breakfast.

Shawn stumbled into the kitchen with the duvet wrapped tightly around him just as you had finished organizing the breakfast tray. You laughed. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

He opened the blanket and drew you into his cocoon. “I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso, hugged him to you, and tipped your head up to kiss his chin. “I’ve been gone less than ten minutes, bub,” you snickered.

“Less than ten minutes is too long,” he affirmed. “And I needed more Kleenex.”

“Go on now. I’ll be right behind you with the tray and a box of tissues.”

You had balanced two bowls of honey-sweetened oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, two cups of citrus-honey green tea, another dose of Tylenol, and now a new box of tissues on the tray. You set it in the middle of your bed after Shawn had once again gotten as comfortable as possible and before you climbed back in beside him.

All throughout breakfast, Shawn craved your warmth. You were too hot encased in the duvet with him, but you endured it because he was sick and snuggly and needed you. And even with that, and a belly full of oatmeal and tea, he wasn’t warm enough.

You cupped his face and he leaned into your touch. “How about I run you a hot bath?”

He nodded tiredly.

He sat on the closed toilet seat with the blanket still wrapped around him while you began to prepare his bath in your heated soaking tub big enough for two. His insistence on being wherever you were was endearing.

You were often invading each other’s bubble on any given day, but being apart for weeks, coupled with him feeling unwell, made for an especially clingy boy.

You added a few drops of essential oils to water just shy of too hot and soon the bathroom was steamy and aromatic. Shawn could already feel the soothing effects of eucalyptus and peppermint as he filled his loosening lungs with deep breaths.

“I’m afraid you have to peel yourself out of the blanket and your clothes to get in, bub. Quick as you can. A few moments of cold and then you’ll be as warm as can be.”

You pushed the duvet off his shoulders and pulled his sweatshirt and tank top up and over his head. He shivered and quickly removed his joggers and boxer briefs himself before stepping into the tub.

He sunk in, up to his chin, sighing deeply, eyes closing. You began to gather the dirties to deposit into the hamper, and then the comforter to return to your bedroom.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, reaching out to encircle his hand around the back of your knee.

You crouched down beside the tub to bring yourself eye level with him. You tangled a hand in his hair and gave his scalp a gentle scratch. “How about you let me clean up after breakfast and change the sheets, and then I’ll get in with you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be away for ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Think you can handle that?” you teased.

“Meanie,” he scowled.

You laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. He fell back against the bath pillow and again closed his eyes.

///

You turned the heat up a few degrees on your way to the kitchen with the tray of dirty breakfast dishes.

After the kitchen was clean, you returned to your bedroom to strip the bed of the sheets Shawn had sweated through earlier that morning and tossed them in the washer. You then remade the bed before pulling clean boxer briefs, joggers, a tank top, sweatshirt, and socks from Shawn’s dresser drawers.

Less than fifteen minutes later and you were back in the humid, fragrant bathroom. Shawn smiled contentedly at your return. You removed your engagement ring, placing it safely on the ring holder, - you never wore it in the bath or shower, - twisted your hair up into a messy bun, pulled your shirt off, and slipped out of your boy shorts. He scooted forward enough for you to climb into the bathtub behind him.

Your new home in LA had to have a heated soaking tub as well; it was one of your mutual must-haves for intimate moments just like this. If it didn’t, Shawn had promised to have one installed.

He relaxed into you, his hands stroking the backs of your thighs which had found their way around his hips. You draped your arms over his shoulders and began to run your fingertips through the hair on his chest.

You didn’t talk much, even though his throat was already feeling better, speaking instead with soft touches and caresses, entwined hands and palm and wrist kisses. You absorbed each other’s very essence, letting your body rhythms continue to re-attune to one another’s, as you soaked in the hot water.

Everyone outside of your relationship found it truly amazing that you and Shawn were almost always in harmony. You easily finished each other’s sentences, and often knew what the other wanted or needed without having to say anything at all.

Once you were both thoroughly waterlogged, and Shawn was finally warm deep into his bones, you lovingly washed his hair.

///

Shawn sighed blissfully as he pulled on the clean boxers and joggers you’d laid out for him, - he was warm enough now not to need anything else, - and slid into bed between clean sheets.

“Try to sleep, hm?” you murmured. What he needed more than anything was sleep. You placed your hand to his forehead and, much to your relief, his fever had finally broken.

You suspected it wouldn’t take long for him to doze off now that he was warm and his body aches had eased. The Tylenol had dulled his headache and the lozenge you had given him, which he was currently sucking on, was soothing his sore throat.

You assured him you were coming back to bed as soon as you put the sheets in the dryer and retrieved some fresh water for your bedside.

He was barely holding onto consciousness by the time you returned. You made him sit up and drink as much of the cold coconut water as he was willing and able to. You then crawled back into bed beside him.

He whispered another ‘thank you’ and yet another ‘I love you’ before he succumbed.

Before you allowed yourself to fall asleep as well, you turned off the television and reached for Shawn’s phone next to yours on the nightstand. You had placed it in ‘do not disturb mode’ as soon as you’d known he was sick.

You entered his passcode to check his texts and voicemails for anything which might be pressing, and returned the necessary calls and messages.

From your own phone you called Shawn’s mom to let her know you weren’t going to make it to dinner that night because her son was sick with what you suspected was the flu.

You promised Karen she didn’t need to come over; that you would be home with him for as long as he needed you to be, and that you were taking the very best care of him. And yes, you would have him call her himself when he was up again and hopefully feeling better.

Despite your and, later that afternoon, Shawn’s assurances, Karen and Manny still drove into the city from Pickering to bring dinner to you. Baked Parmesan zucchini, homemade spaghetti and meat sauce, and a small plate of brownies, all gluten-free, of course.

They didn’t stay long. Shawn was still fatigued and achy as his immune system fought against his illness, but they were happy to see him eating, even if his portions were smaller than usual, and otherwise being well taken care of. Karen adored you, and trusted you wholeheartedly, but she was still his mother and he was her baby boy.

Karen insisted on cleaning up after dinner. She wouldn’t even accept your help.

She and Manny risked close contact, - after all, they also hadn’t seen Shawn for a month, - by giving him (and you) huge hugs before they left.

You fell into bed that evening, again wrapped up in one another, and slept, deep and restful, straight through till morning.

///

You woke up alone. Shawn’s side of the bed was empty. You listened for sounds of him from the bathroom. Instead you heard the strumming of his guitar from outside your bedroom, interspersed with some slight coughing.

He looked up from his playing to find you leaning against the archway with one of your small smiles only for him on your face. “Good morning, baby,” he returned your smile.

You crossed over to him, curling up on the couch beside him. You reached out to give a playful scritch to the stubble along his jawline. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for thirty-six hours,” he chuckled.

“You needed it...”

He simply nodded his agreement. He brushed a lock of hair from your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head and then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he smiled, just before a small fit of coughing began again.

Your brow furrowed.

“It sounds worse than it feels,” he laughed. “It’s good, it’s loose. I can breathe deep.” And he drew a deep breath to reassure you.

For the flu, it was certainly a mild case if he was already feeling better. It made you hopeful that if you did end up also getting sick, you’d get through it just as quickly.

Now that you were up, Shawn voiced his desire to get out of the house for some fresh air.

It was a cold morning, with a slight coating of snow across the grass from the night before, so you dressed warm. You tucked scarves into your coats and made the short walk over to your favorite café for coffee and pastries.

You spent the rest of the morning gaming. You made lunch together. You fell asleep while watching movies and cuddling on the living room sofa. You ate Karen’s leftovers for dinner, all of them. (Spaghetti was always better the next day.) Shawn’s appetite was much improved.

His color and his strength were also a lot better.

Back in bed after dinner, you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of Shawn’s laptop as he showed you the latest of the LA homes he’d bookmarked, one which had just come on the market. He hoped it wasn’t gone before you returned to LA with him the week after the one upcoming.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he sighed, out of nowhere, as if it was an afterthought. “You always do.”

You dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder and murmured, “Always will.”

“You’re gonna be the best mommy.”

His comment wasn’t exactly surprising; you’d just looked at photos of the aforementioned property, one of which was a nursery.

Still, you teased, chuckling, “Do you know something I don’t?”

He laughed. “Just manifesting. For the future.”

“Let’s get through the move and our wedding first, hm? Then we’ll talk babies.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Shawn closed his laptop and set it on the nightstand before turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I seem to remember another promise made.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Something about ravishing you...?”

You grinned, giggled, “You’re sure you’re feeling well enough for ‘ravishing’?”

“I feel well enough to sure as hell try,” he smirked, swiftly maneuvering you beneath him and tugging the duvet over your heads.

~*~

@mendesblurb @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @silverswallow @chocochipcookie305 @misti-ka @fallinallinshawn @hiding-behind-a-flower @benito-mi-vida

(Is there anyone who wishes to be added or removed from my meager taglist? There are at least three of the above who I don't think read my writing anymore, or are even on tumblr these days.)

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes request #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes sick!fic

303 notes · View notes