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rxzennia · 1 month

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domestic headcanons

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 ambiguous relationship (oh my god they were roommates); living together; word vomit; incoherent scenarios; ooc aven probably. i offered my exp mats to gepard instead and now i have to grind traces all over again, maybe i should build clara while i’m at it (losing this particular 50/50 has driven me insane istg)

after aventurine’s endless pestering, you finally agree to move in with him. he’s got a whole block all to himself, so what’s you temporarily claiming a room going to change?

the moment you agree, and by that i mean the very second you agree, he’s going to arrange for people to move your stuff

you just need to move yourself over

he’s not going to let you do any hard labor, that’s what the grunts are for

it’s so quick? like, it only took the morning to have everything packed, moved, and unpacked

when you get to your desk the first thing you do is clutter it up

but there’s so much space?

you just can’t stack your stuff enough so that it’s snug the way you like

you try, but all you’ve managed to do is make a paper fortress on one side of your desk

why do the senior managers have so much space?

but you soon realize you didn’t really need to finish building your wall of documents

because your boss sits on your desk whenever he fancies annoying you

so there’s your clutter for the other side

though you still leave a few of your spare scarves there just so it’s not completely empty

a little out of place, but you have nothing else bulky enough

it’s okay, that corner of your desk is often occupied by a certain someone anyway

surprisingly, living with aventurine isn’t unpleasant at all. maybe it’s because you’re almost always within reach now, he’s started bothering you less – instead, he’ll do his work in your office. he has a perfectly good office of his own (arguably comfier too), but he insists on sitting next to you.

frankly, you are tempted to kick him out, but this is his place. you shouldn’t try to kick out your host landlord. and it’s not like he’s actively preventing you from concentrating. you usually leave him be, but you might’ve accidentally gotten used to it – when he’s not around, you feel like something’s missing. just a little bit, though.

he can and will always poke his head over to see what you’re working on

“arranging your meetings, go away.” you push his face back towards his laptop

“hey, leave 6pm to 8pm free!” he whines, as always, he’s trying to get a dinner date(?) with you

“no can do, you’re having dinner with mr diamond.”

he will throw a hissy fit

“why must it always be meal times? i want to eat with you!”

will complain and complain and complain even if you ignore him

you give him a flat “i will be present as well.”

you’re so bloody infuriating

he stares at you for a whole minute. and then he closes his laptop

you look at him. what is he trying to do now?

“not what i meant.” he gently whacks you over the head with the device, “you and i. dinner. alone. get it?”

normally you stand your ground and make him go through with these meetings

but sometimes you cave and indulge him

this is one of those times

“fine, i’ll push back your meeting with the media department tomorrow.”

you see literal flowers around him as he gets his way

well, not exactly his way, because if he had his way he would be free today

a compromise for tomorrow is good enough, he supposes

he will bring you out to lunch and dinner every day if he could

if only you’d stop telling him you technically don’t need to eat and just go along with it

and if only you’d stop scheduling every. single. important. meeting. during. meal. times.

still, he finds it amusing to read your face whenever you’re in those meetings with him

the only good thing about them, really

because you will have the tiniest furrow in your eyebrows when you eat something you don’t like

and it’ll last until the taste goes away (which is usually the entire meeting)

or you’ll have the most serene expression ever (though it’s more neutral than anything, really) when you find something you like

loves it when you try to not make it obvious that you like a particular dish because you’re not discreet at all

that is all you will eat for the rest of the meeting

you are given your own room, but more often than not you find yourself in aventurine’s room at night.

mostly because he drags you away from your desk – no, scrap that, it’s only because he drags you away from your desk. otherwise you would’ve kept working. or maybe gone and did some combat training. or anything but sleep, really.

you soon realize he likes cuddling you when he sleeps

this is something you’ll never deny him if he asks

in fact, he doesn’t even need to ask nowadays

you show up in his room everyday at around the same time

if he wants a nap in the middle of the day, you’ll also be there

you notice how much more quality rest he gets when you’re by his side

and how much less nightmares bothered him compared to before

(maybe you should try casual sleeping, too?)

whenever you try to slip out of his death grip to get some documents, or to use the bathroom, or for water, he will quietly ask you where you’re going

in a very, very slurred, sleepy way

you will try to explain, and all he’ll tell you as you wrench yourself out of his arms is a quiet “stay”

how are you supposed to go if he says that while letting you go?

good luck if you’re hoping to use the bathroom, most likely you’ll have to hold it in

otherwise, if you need anything else, your scarf-serpent can get it for you

although one time it returned with your documents in its mouth and drool all over it

then you had a rigorous session trying to teach them how to coil around things to pick them up

more like you had to learn, since they’re somewhat sentient extensions of you

on the off chance that you’ll be out for the night, you’ll leave your favorite scarf with him

it’s not as comforting as your person, but it does smell like you and feel like you

he’ll take it as a placeholder until you’re back :(

aventurine hates it when you’re out of office. whether it is to represent him, or to discuss matters with clients before you pass it onto him, he hates it when he’s alone at home.

odd, because he was so used to being on his own, and he was so certain he was going to be alone for the rest of his life.

this man will sit in your office regardless of your presence

your spare scarves keep him company

imagine his surprise when a bunch of faceless noodles slither onto him

he makes the connection very quickly

did not expect that every one of your scarves are mini leviathans

he thought there was only a few, and they move between scarves

a welcome surprise because he knows these huge little guys are friendly

those are the same guys that swallow monsters, so they’re actually not very friendly

but they’re friendly to him because they’re you

one of them will coil into a pile on his lap and rest its head on his thigh

and the others will be all around him

will slobber over him 100%

he will try to pet them, and will realize that they’re really affectionate with him

they will try to eat his hands

but, like, in a not alarming way

hold his hand in their maws but will not bite. only drool

when he pats the one who has his hand, it’ll let go

literally “that’s a weird looking dog” but there's more than ten of them

when you return from your errands, the first thing you see is aventurine dragging a bunch of your snakes along with him as he practically runs to greet you.

you wrap your arms around him as he jumps towards you, and you give him a few spins before setting him down again.

then you lower your scarf

you’re comfortable enough with him to not cover yourself up anymore

oh how he loves seeing your face, aeons, you have no idea

“guys.” you snap your fingers, and the creatures collapse back into inanimate fabric

you catch all of them, of course, then you open one arm for your boss

the best part (real)

he snuggles up against your side naturally

you lift him up easily even though both your hands are busy

he’s practically sitting on your forearm as you walk around the house

princess treatment

you’ll cuddle with him properly once you drop off your stuff

“ten minutes,” you tell him, “then i’ll have to get back to work.”

he will throw another hissy fit, like, “why are you busier than i am? i’m the boss!”

you pinch his nose and go: “exactly, mr aventurine”

instantly droops like a kicked puppy

he doesn’t even try to hide it

absolutely hates it when you’re formal with him in private even if you’re joking

feels like you’re back to square one all over again

“don’t call me that,” aventurine groans as he grabs your hair and tug at it like a toddler.

you glance at him. “displeased?”

“of course!” he tries to shake your head violently, but damn you and your stupid strength. “what happened to aven?”

you don’t respond

you’re busy tossing everything onto your chair and praying nothing falls off

he moves on to slapping your face lightly

“hey, hey!” as his hands smack and grab everything that’s touchable on your head

surprisingly, you let him

he might also pull on your scarf

and after a while, he’ll resort to rubbing his cheek against yours

“are you ignoring me…?”

you sit down on the couch and set aventurine in your lap. “impatient, are we?”

“can’t help it,” he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself into your embrace. “i hate when i’m alone…”

“aven…” you pat his back, knowing full well you’re falling for his tricks again. “there, there. should i just call it a day?”

“you would?” he asks, like a child receiving a gift for the first time, “really?”

“really.” you sigh as he tugs you down into spooning him, and you watch him tangle his limbs with yours.

eventually, you pull him closer to you. jeez, there’s just no way you can win against him, is there?

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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theblueseassoul · 4 months

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“Sick.”

Zayne x Reader.

Love and deep space fanfiction.

No use of Y/n. Read in the second person. Gender neutral reader. Brief Mention of vomit.

It had been a long couple of days for you. You’d been working non stop, as part of the alpha squad in the hunters association you dealt with a majority of the much harsher Wanderers. Due to working so much, you had caught a bit of a cold, and were sent home, given as much time as you needed to completely recover. Zayne was told almost immediately, of course. As your doctor and one of the people closest to you, he was bound to know eventually. And so here you were, curled up on the couch with a blanket in your house clothes. And there he was, standing in the kitchen and making you tea. You shifted, back against the arm of your couch, and watched him. His back was facing you, but you could already imagined his focused face, brows furrowed and lips slightly taut.

“Your eyes are burning holes through my skull.” He suddenly said, turning his head to meet your apparently intense gaze. You’d zoned out, blinking rapidly at him, and you caught the curl of his lips and the amusement glitter in his eyes. “What are you thinking about?” He asked, picking up the mug that you’d bought as a souvenir at one of the aquariums, it had little seals plastered over it. Somehow, it had become the go-to mug for you, and Zayne always got that one first when he made you something to drink. The dark haired doctor approached you, placing your mug in your outstretched hands.

You shrugged, “Nothing, really.” You looked at the mug in your hands and blew softly at the hot tea. “Don’t you have work today?” You asked him, shifting and sitting criss-cross as you sipped the tea, still burning your tongue despite your caution. Zayne chuckled softly at the cringe your face twisted into, and shook his head in amusement as he often did at your actions. “Not today. I shouldn’t be too busy when I do, but I trust when I’m not here you will take care of yourself.” He always snuck in a lecture about your health. Though it was well placed now, as you sat there, sniffling and breathing in the steam rising from your tea to clear your sinuses.

“Awh. Taking a day off just for me?” You teased. Though you were sick that would not stop you from picking at him, and he knew that too well. His lips curled into a slight half smile and he leaned back into the couch “I find myself doing that often. Something’s always wrong with you.” He said light heartedly. It took a long time for you to start to recognize his sarcasm and sweet jokes, because his voice was not as expressive as others were. Monotone, steady, it rarely ever changed, and you often compared him to a robot because of it. You let out a soft scoff “you don’t have to come and take care of me, you know. I’m perfectly capable of doing all of this myself.” You told him.

He hummed in reply and glanced at you, eyes glistening in the light coming through the window across the room. You always did admire his eyes, the golden centers circling his pupils. You noticed his pupils always seemed to dilate around you. You didn’t know why but you felt special because of it anyways. “You’re capable, but you don’t do it. I need linkons best hunter healthy and taken care of. Who else will protect me from wanderers, hm?” He said playfully, leaning towards you, shoulder brushing against yours. You unconsciously leaned into him and smiled, not sarcastically but a genuine, softer smile. One he always managed to draw out of you; even when you were in the sourest of moods. “I did promise, didn’t I?” He nodded at your words and tilted his head towards your cup “You did. So drink up. We’ll have food soon, and then you’re having your medication.” There it was once more, Doctor Zayne and his schedules he had made for you. He didn’t take no for an answer either, you learned that the hard way.

Having someone like him was comforting. He knew you so well, and he cared for you. Enough to take the day off to spend it with you, while you were stuck at home, sick. Infact he came over last night as well, midnight, you were sick to your stomach leaned over the toilet and he knelt down beside you, one hand keeping everything out of your way and the other carefully running up and down your back, comforting you. You couldn’t make out the words he muttered but they helped. He even sat you on the counter and gently washed the remainder from your mouth, and made you something you could keep down before bed. He’d left after that, but he came back after sometime before noon.

“You’re staring again.” Zayne stated as he finished off his tea, setting his mug down and looking at you with a raised brow. “Something on my face?” He asked. You shook your head, newfound tenderness engulfing you as you leaned in closer to him, and out of instinct he had wrapped an arm around you. “Thank you.” You murmured, and he furrowed his brows in confusion “for what?”

“Being here.” You replied, shrugging. “You’re always there for me even when I don’t ask you to be. You’ve looked after me for so long. I.. I don’t think I could ever put into words how much I appreciate you doing this.” You said softly, looking up at him. He seemed to freeze, however recovered quickly and said with the same amount of tenderness “we look after each other. That’s what we do. Now hurry. Finish your tea.” He gently leaned his head against yours, and you could feel the smile spreading over his lips. You smiled and nodded, complying. He truly was the best. You wondered if his heart raced and softened the same way yours did when you saw him, when you sat with him like this. But as you leaned into his chest to listen to his heart beat as you so frequently did, you answered your own question.

It did. You wouldn’t tell him that though. It was your little victory. It had you grinning all evening, and he teased you for it.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #deep space #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace

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dilfprayers · 5 months

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21st Birthday.

realdad!leon kennedy x afab!reader based off of an ask i did a few days ago for @misscimi tw; incest topics (dad x daughter), alcohol abuse, dubcon , piss, virginity loss, manipulation + more

word vomit ??? yip yap type of thing that turned into a fic (?) so may be typos MAYBE? i dont know!! also ive been heavily brainrotting abt icky dad leon,..ugh

You were excited to turn 21. Everyone always made it a big deal and told you it'll be amazing being able to finally drink and do many other events that required you to be 21 anyways, which you hated. You went on years planning out what to do but when it finally came to that day, which was today, you sat there quietly in the house spacing out. Hours going by and you mainly sat there on the couch, quiet and alone.

That wasn't until the door crept open, your father suddenly walking in with a few bags. He glanced to the living room with a smirk, approaching you as you laid there. He did however admire you, how tight your shirt was to your upper body n' how those shorts were short enough to get a peek of your panties.

He knew better than to indulge in those thoughts but ever since you had had turned 19, he always had his eyes on you. Wanting you.

"Hey hun, what's got you in the dumps? Shouldn't you be celebrating the special day?"

He sits down carefully beside you, a quiet 'hmph' leaving his throat once he sits down. He leaned back, tilting his head with the bags still in his hands. You looked over at him before loudly sighing, slouching back into the couch.

"I don't know..My friends cancelled on coming over - Mom is always busy...And well you-"

You pause, looking at him. He looked puzzled, tilting his head as he leans in a bit closer to you.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

He cuts you off halfway, smiling at you before putting the bags down; gently setting his hand down on your bare thigh, rubbing at it in a comforting manner.

"I was able to get off work early anyways, I didn't want my lovely daughter to be on her own for her 21st birthday."

You smile, glancing down at his hand that rubbed along your thigh. He always had a comforting charm, you loved it.

"Well.. I guess. But, I really wanted to go out and get drinks. I always wanted to get the drinking experience. Aside from the whole vomiting and losing your absolute mind— It seems cool. But I sound stupid for that don't I?"

His eyes lightened up when you said that. Almost like a lightbulb clicked in his mind - Surely he wasn't thinking of getting you drunk, taking full advantage of you - Making you do things you don't wanna do. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he pats your thigh and leans back.

"Nah, I get you.. That's why I got you a little surprise."

He pulled some drinks from the bags, glancing at you as he saw the shock on your face. He really thought about you and your 21st birthday — Knowing you wanted to drink? You were beyond happy now. And the thought of your first drink would be with your father.. You were living in the moment.

He figured you were too shocked to speak so he handled the drinks, popping the cap off of one of the bottles then handled it over to you with a warm smile.

"Happy 21st birthday."

Sluggish, you were wobbling in your seat..Shit, how many drinks were there? You don't even remember. You just know you kept blanking out, hearing loud ringing sometimes as you crawled over to Leon, laying across his lap.

"Sweetie, y'okay?.."

You hear his concerned tone but only let out a low, "mmm..." noise, feeling all woozy. You felt like shit in all honesty but for him, it was a good thing. He planned this all along, get you drunk off your ass and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Poor baby.. Here, I got you. Just relax for me.."

He picks you up off his lap and holds you in his arms, walking off to his bedroom before kicking the door shut. He already had an erection, sick fuck had so many possibilities and thoughts in his head.. It was to the point he could feels his cock pressed up against the fabric of his boxers and pants, oozing crazily with precum.

He fucking wanted you. And wanted you now.

Afterall, It was his second part of his birthday gift, you should be happy right?..

You groan quietly as he sets you down to the bed, slowly sitting down beside you soon after as he watches your vulnerable state. Your body aching from whatever was going on in your head and stomach - Eyes halfway shut too. You could hear something being rustled with.. A belt?.. Pants? You didn't really know nor care as you shifted on the bed, comfortable from how the pillows and comforter made you sink into a whole different headspace. You were quiet, only breathing heavily. You wanted nothing more than to just sleep but that'd soon be disrupted. You just didn't know it yet.

Leon, on the other hand, had already had his pants off and his boxers, needily stroking his cock from the mere sight of you.

"Fuck.. You've grown into a lovely woman, you know that?.."

He mutters, as if you could hear him but you didn't. He bites down on his lip, pushing past his limits. He slowly moved himself over you, pulling your shorts down and saw your bright panties. Beautiful pair too.. He groans lowly, brushing his fingers along your crotch but pauses, noticing you shifting around again before staring directly at him.

"Mh-..Wha...H..huh? Dad..What's going on?.."

You mumble, feeling your legs spread open cause of him and felt a pit deep down in your stomach. You thought this was some kind of fucked up dream, not realizing it was real.

"D..daddy?.."

Your voice cracks, seeing him stare directly at you - But him hearing your innocent words through your drunken state made his cock throb. He knew you couldn't comprehend shit that was going on.. All you could assume was this being some kind of bad dream you couldn't wake up from. With him knowing that, it turned him on more.

"Shh, shh... I want to love you and make you feel good tonight. Isn't that what fathers do?"

He murmurs, brushing your panties again until he feels something warm — Or rather, hot. You weren't aware but out of fear and confusion, you felt yourself wetting your panties with the pee you held in for hours ever since you started drinking earlier. His eyes were widened, seeing the liquid damp up your panties and pour down along the sheets, staining it.

But even still, it left him beyond turned on. More than he should've been.

You weren't entirely sure what had happened for a couple minutes but you just know you gained some kind of consciousness the second he pushed his cock deep into you, keeping himself balls deep before he rutted himself in and out of you, brushing his thumb along your throbbing clit. You scratched at him, screamed and all but he knew how to make you slowly accept the fact he was raping you while you were drunk and half asleep. You didn't exactly think your father out to be some kind of rapist or sick fuck, but here he was, not only using you but also using your piss as 'lube'.. And not to mention - blood too. This was your first time. And your first time was from your dad taking advantage of you.

The thought nearly made you hurl but as time went on, you did actually start feeling good. He ensured of that so you could calm down. He never moved his thumb away from your clit, moving it in circular motions as he knew it was becoming raw and more sensitive. He could tell it was fucking with you cause of how much tighter you'd get.

"Feeling good yet? You want daddy to keep fucking you? Show you more about being an adult? Mm...?"

His cock plunged into you, way deeper at this point since you were naturally getting wet from his actions. It didn't help either that you wanted this to originally stop but the influence of alcohol and the pleasure he offered was driving you insane. You couldn't think straight before cause of the drinks but now it was way worse.

"Please... Please..- M..more.."

You whined to him, legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. His gaze down at you was darkened and he knew he enjoyed

"More? You don't even have to ask."

He leans in, his lips catching yours into a tender kiss while he now places his hands along your legs, spreading them out more with his tight grasp before going to town on you. The bed creaked and both of your moans and groans made a symphony within the room.

"Shiiit...G..gonna..Cum..."

He mutters into the kiss, feeling his cock throbbing within you. Your walls squeezed at his cock needily, but as a natural reaction again. Your body knew what it wanted. His cum.

But you couldn't do that.. The risk of him getting you pregnant was high but you weren't even thinking straight, you couldn't pull him off nor tell him. Actually, you didn't even want to.

"Daddy's gonna fuck a baby into me...~"

You babble out, lips still mushed against his as your tongues lock together for a bit till he pulls back, slipping his cock out of you to flip you on your stomach. He spanks your ass, grinning.

"Watch your language, I'm still your father you know."

He teases but knew damn well hearing those words slip out from you made him harder. He fucking loved it. At some point afterwards, he got into a better position before pushing his cock back into you. His cock throbbed some more before he rocked his hips along yours while he was towered over you. Seeing you in such a fucked up state, fighting the two separate sides in your head from what was wrong or right was arousing. Your slightly concerned face, wondering if this was you truly wanted. Or how your pussy clenched around his cock, wanting to milk him dry of his cum. Your body was rejecting your moral thoughts at this point.

The thoughts he had and also seeing you slowly come apart for him became overwhelming, but he enjoyed the hell out of it to the point he pushed himself deeper into you again, as he leans down, grunting in your ear. He finally came inside of you, no verbal warning what-so-ever.

You could feel it too, his warm pumps of cum flooding your insides - Giving you butterflies. He slightly rode out his orgasm before pausing, keeping his cock plunged deep into your sticky and wet, messy pussy.

"That was my birthday gift for you.."

He mutters, gently resting his chest on your back as he gently kisses along your cheek. You were all used up for the night, even more drowsy and at some point you closed your eyes and rested there beneath him while his cock remained inside of you.

Maybe being 21 isn't so bad after all...

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #realdad!leon #dad!leon kennedy #🕍 — detowrites

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 2 months

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the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

343 notes · View notes

shina913 · 6 months

Text

Breakfast (Part 2) | KMG

Breakfast, Part 2

Pairing: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; domestic au; smut; little fluff

Warnings: porn with a tiny bit of plot; cussing; fingering; penetrative sex; unprotected sex in a committed, monogamous relationship

Word count: 1.8K words

Summary: Mingyu has to leave for work but gets sidetracked.

A/N: This is a sequel to this initial story but you don't need to read it before diving into this. The first part just provides a little context. Anyway, this is nothing but horny word vomit and I blame Mingyu. Please send your complaints to him. Kthxbye.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

You smelled the coffee before opening your eyes. “I’m going to kick your ass if it’s not at least 7:30AM.”

You just returned from a long holiday week, spending time with each other's families. You decided to fly back a day early so you could both recharge before going back to work. That included sleeping in.

Mingyu’s boyish laugh was enough to make your toes curl. “Close enough,” he replies.

You opened one eye, then the other. As your vision clears, you are greeted by the sight of him, crouched by your bed, dressed in his suit. He looked so delectable in it.

Since your less-than-ideal chance meeting the morning after your respective one-night stands, you have gone on a few dates and discovered that you enjoyed each other's company, with and without clothes.

He rises from the floor and then settles on the edge of the bed, looking apologetic. “I got a call this morning and they need me to come in today. I wanted to let you know that I made you breakfast before I headed out.”

Cooking was his way of apologizing for spoiling your day off together. You didn't really have anything specific planned, except you wanted to reclaim some quiet time that you missed while your family was around.

You sit up and lean against the headboard while Mingyu hands the mug to you. His eyes are fixed on your cleavage, barely covered by a worn-in tank top that you had on.

“Points for the bedside caffeine.” You accept the mug, blowing on the piping hot beverage before taking a cursory sip.

“So sexy,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple through the thin material.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine but you cheekily swat his hand away. “Hey, don’t distract me. I thought we were supposed to have our day today,” you frowned.

“On the contrary, I think you’re distracting me. Very effectively, in fact.”

You eye him in his suit, then hum in agreement. “I know the feeling. Anyway, do you have to go in? Can’t you log in from home?”

He sighs softly before explaining why he has to go into the office. “A couple of projects need some senior staff oversight. It’s just a couple of meetings, then I’ll come right back in time for lunch. I promise!” He plants a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and gives you his cute, puppy-eye look.

How could anybody resist that? Your face visibly relaxes, quelling your annoyance.

You take another sip of your coffee and gaze at him appreciatively. "Have I told you how much I love seeing you in a suit?”

His suit was bespoke, and his shirt and tie were perfectly coordinated. While most suits simply enhanced a man's appearance, Mingyu took it to another level that could be considered illegal.

“Yes, you tell me all the time,” he purrs.

You lean in and run your fingers over his tie. “Is this new?”

His eyes track the motion of your hands. “It is. Why?”

"Feels nice. I can't keep my hands off it." Thoughts of him wrapping it around your wrists come to mind, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. You hoped you were discreet enough that he wouldn't notice the movement under the sheets.

The faint twitch in the corner of his mouth and his raised eyebrow indicated otherwise.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

You bat your eyes at him innocently. “I’m just…admiring the tie, that’s all.” You release it then smooth it over his chest.

He takes a beat, then stands up and takes your mug, placing it on the nightstand. Next, he catches the edge of the sheet and tosses it aside in one smooth motion.

“Lie down, spread your legs.”

You obey, pulse quickening as you slide down to your back. You had to admit that your state of undress compared to his being fully clothed—especially in one of his sexy suits—was wildly exciting. It created this power advantage for him that was a serious turn-on for you.

“Are you wet?” His tone was dark and dangerous. It excited you.

“Why don’t you find out?” You teased.

His jaw ticks, and he narrows his eyes at you. Whenever Mingyu looked at you like that, you grew more eager by the second. He hooks his finger on the waistband of your panties and starts pulling them down. You raise your hips slightly to assist him in removing them.

Once you were exposed for him, you allow your thighs to fall open. He strokes a finger through your folds, gliding gently over your clit.

“Getting there.” Cupping you in his palm, he met your gaze. “We should rectify that.”

You knew he had important business to attend to and it would be irresponsible of you to make him late for work. But he knew that whenever you were needy for him, he would prefer to take care of you first.

“W-what about your meetings?” You shivered as the tip of his finger circled your opening, teasing you further.

“They’re cutting my vacation short. I can afford to show up a few minutes late.” Eyes glittering, he slid a finger ever-so-slowly inside you, making you sigh and your eyelids flutter.

“Hmm...” you crooned.

“You like that?”

Something about his gentle ministrations left you speechless for a moment.

He added another finger and went deeper, making your muscles clench in response while heat swept over your skin.

Bending over you, Mingyu lowers his lips to yours. While you enjoyed his mouth between your legs, kissing him like this gave you just as much pleasure. You moan against his kisses while his fingers massage you inside and out.

The pleasure of his touch sends goosebumps racing up your arms. You pull your shirt up to your chin, clutch your breasts in your hands, squeezing and pulling on your nipples.

He lifts his head and takes a glance at you. “You look so fucking hot right now.”

Shamelessly, your body writhed as you rode his plunging fingers.

His mouth slides over to your jawline, then moves to your chest, nudging your hands aside with the tip of his nose. He bites down gently on a nipple before wrapping his lips around it, suckling softly.

“Ahh…more,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he smiled against your skin.

“Please, I want your cock in me,” you begged.

“Need to make you cum this way first.” His tongue curled around your other nipple, flickering teasingly over it.

You’re dizzy with arousal but mildly aware that his fingers stop moving in and out of you. After working you into a frenzy, he begins to apply soft but steady pressure against the roof of your core. His efforts give you that all-too-familiar tingling buildup within you, making your belly tense up in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

“F-fuck, yes…yes, right there! Don’t stop,” you choked out. He obeys and concentrates on the spot you’ve directed him to. Everything in you tenses like a coiled spring until you find yourself teetering over the edge.

“I’m…c-cum—“

With one definitive curl of his fingers, your thighs quiver before you feel a warmth rush out of you, dripping into his palm. You let out a long, stuttered moan while he continued to massage your flesh, intent on coaxing all the pleasure out of you. Your hands grip on his shoulder until your climax eases.

“Atta girl,” he smiled.

You open your eyes and your gaze wanders over to the bulge in his pants. "We should take care of that. Can't have you walking into the office in that state.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Whatever you want.” You bite down on your lip and palm him through his pants. He would love to fuck your mouth, but not when he’s in a rush. His thoughts are interrupted by his watch buzzing. He briefly checks the screen before turning his attention back to you.

“But if we don’t have time…”

“Get on all fours, now,” he ordered.

“Are you sure—”

“Now.” He says more firmly.

You scramble and shift on the mattress to get into position, ass up in mid-air for him. His hands steady your hips, angling you just right to make you both feel good. His fingers graze the tender flesh between your legs, checking if you were still wet from your orgasm—which you were.

Not long after, you feel the delicious stretch in your center.

You both let out gruff sounds of pleasure when he pushes into you. He pulls out just a little, then slides back in slowly. You press your face deep into the mattress, relishing the feeling of his cock massaging the bundle of nerves deep within.

Finding his rhythm, he fucks into you, thrusting in a steady pace. You claw at the sheets, moaning helplessly.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

Your legs shook on a particularly deep downstroke. There was nothing else you could do but take whatever he gave you: the rhythmic slide and pull, coupled with the sounds of his hunger that escaped his lips. The scrape of his pants against your thighs told you he had pushed them down only far enough to free his cock, a sign of impatience that turned you on wildly.

One of his hands left your hip, moving to your front to rub circles over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you cry out while writhing in his grip. Over and over, he plunged into you repeatedly until your body hit its limit.

You came with a scream, quivering as your orgasm took over your senses.

His thrusts turn harder, raw grunts and moans spilling from him while you offer no resistance as he chases his own climax.

You feel his thighs slam against yours, then he shudders. His neck arches and he gasps your name. His face twists in agonized pleasure, eyes losing focus as he emptied himself into you.

He pulls out of you gingerly and you both collapse side-by-side onto the mattress.

“Let me just say,” he pants, “this was not what I had in mind when I brought you coffee.” He presses a quick kiss to your slicked forehead. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You giggle and curl into him while he wraps an arm around you in response. You catch a glimpse of the time from his watch. “Shit. Now you’re super late,” you grimace. “I’m sorry.”

He laughs huskily. “I’m not! I got an email alert saying that the client rescheduled the meeting and pushed the deadline back.”

You scrunch your face in confusion. As far as you’re concerned, you were both busy fooling around for the last half hour. “When did you get that email?”

“Right before I told you to get on all fours,” he says mischievously.

And now, you realize that you vaguely remember him glancing at his watch before he fucked your brains out.

“I’m off the hook! So we can have our day after all,” he beams.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is there anything you want to do? I mean, you know, after we get cleaned up?” He chuckles.

You pause to think. After a few seconds, you declare, “Definitely–breakfast first! I worked up an appetite after all that.”

He guffaws at your response. “That’s my girl!”

Main SVT Fic Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @roaminginthenights; @midnightagust ; @btsgotjams27

#mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #seventeen fanfiction #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fanfic

390 notes · View notes

olive-may-write · 21 days

Text

Hope

Hi! So this is the first time that I've wrote somthing this length in a while so this will be a bit rusty.

This is slightly self indulgent as someone who has chronic pain, I just thought I'd write someone up with a reader who has it in mind.

Anyway reader is someone who experiences chronic pain, it's a small insight into the mind of someone who lives with it. I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possoble, but other than that I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to give feedback of any kind, I just ask that you are kind <3.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Possible triggers: Dissusion of mental health problems, mentions of chronic pain and how it can affect someone's life, Mention of feeling sick / vomiting.

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

The drawing room is not exactly the best place for you to be right now, you had initially thought that a spot of reading would be a sufficient distraction from the blinding pain shooting through your temple. unfortunately, the book you are reading, or trying to at least is not providing any useful distraction, with the words on the page becoming more blurred the more you try to preserver.

Huffing you close the book, trying to focus on something else to distract you from the burden you carry. The pain.

You were never a sickly child, quite the opposite, you were always able to bounce back from any aliment that affected you, that was until sometime during your early adulthood. You cannot fully remember when it happened, just that one day it started, a sharp pain like a needle had been pushed through just under your kneecap and the stubborn thing would not go away.

At first, you had thought you had just over-exerted yourself during the social season with dancing, however, when that had ended, and you found yourself with more time to rest and recover you found that this pain remained. And it had gotten worse, it slowly moved upwards towards your other joints, sending sparks between all the different offending joints.

A knock at the door breaks your train of painful thought, you slowly move towards the door, confused as you had confessed to your maid that if anyone needed or wanted you for anything to very gently turn them in another direction to not exacerbate your pain anymore with meaningless conversations.

The door slowly creeks open, your maid’s face apologetically peeking around the frame.

“Apologies, I understand you did not want to be bothered; however, you have a visitor. One who is very adamant to see you, even after I explained that you had fallen ill today…” she relays, she seems almost skittish, unlike her usual self. This visitor has put up more of a battle than others, who would see you?

Sighing you looked towards her, trying not to cringe at a sudden stinging in your temples, you can’t very well be mad at her, after all, she can’t ultimately swat away everyone that wants to see you, though you had hoped that you would’ve had more time to try and calm down this headache before seeing anyone, alas, fortune is not in your favour today.

“Please do not apologise, Ester, you tried your best,” you say sympathetically. “I do not think I would be so lucky to hide myself away for the whole day without interruptions, please do send whoever is most eager to see me in, if you would not mind.” With the housekeeper slipping back out the door you try to calm yourself, ‘breath, just breath’ you think, trying to calm yourself down, trying to calm the headache, as well as your body.

You are not given enough time, as you hear the door opening again, this time more swiftly than before, footsteps moving quickly and a huffing breath. You then realise a slight error in your wording to your maid early, while you had instructed her to tell people that you had fallen ill, you mostly assumed that she would only need to tell people already aware of your ailment, and with that understanding they would know that you were somewhat alright and not gravely ill and not someone else. Someone who is not aware of your condition, someone who is now staring at you with anxious eyes trying to determine what it is that is wrong with you.

With your body still positioned towards the door you fully take in your visitor, Mr Benedict Bridgerton. You watch as he steps into the room, the door slowly closing over, trapped.

“I was told you were ill” he starts, stepping closer towards the chair you reside in, eyes still darting over you trying to determine the cause of your ‘illness.’

“I give my apologies for being so ardent in wanting to see you, I had initially come here under different pretences, however, the way your maid described your illness I was stricken with worry.” He speaks too quickly, staring at you with a slightly overwhelming concern.

“What ails you so?” he finishes almost crouching in front of you. The pause in the room is too stifling, this question that you hoped you would never have to answer while alone. In the past, you were always quite fortunate when the question had come up, with your father or mother there to quickly move the conversation along. Never bringing the truth to light.

“A misstep walking down some stairs! The floors had just been washed and they were simply too enthralled within their novel to notice” was one such story that had to be shelved after multiple uses.

“Oh, you know they were just so concentrated with their needlework that they strained their hands; nothing to concern yourself about” another one, a slightly more believable story, and one that could be told repeatedly. However this time you were alone, there was no one to save you, no one to swiftly tell a half-truth. No, you were on your own, and with a mind-numbing headache in addition.

“Ah, yes, erm please do excuse Ester, she does tend to exaggerate a little bit with her storytelling, I have but a simple headache.” You are not exactly lying, you do have a headache, you are simply omitting that the ache is also everywhere else within you.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Benedict replies, visibly relaxing, almost bending in half with the sigh he lets out.

“I thought you to be gravely ill with how your maid detailed your condition” he continues, “That you could hardly move, and you were racked with pain” he recounts, what you can only assume to be Esther's attempt at persuasion. And while true, you had hoped she would have chosen something along the lines of having a simple cold.

“Yes, well, as you can see, I am in perfect health, you have nothing to worry about Mr Bridgerton, though your concern is duly appreciated. I do hope your time has not been wasted by travelling over here,” you respond, very much hoping that you can put this conversation to bed. You can feel the pain in your temples starting to come down towards your neck, you need to move, having been sitting in one position for too long but with Mr Bridgeton here you could not just up and move. You also had forgotten your cane this morning in your room, not thinking you would need it very much today, and you did not particularly want to be witnessed limping up and out of the room in front of a man who had no idea of your condition.

Your only plausible solution was to grin and bear it, or rather, politely smile and nod along to whatever this man was about to ask you.

“Nonsense!” he exclaims loudly in a jovial manner, making the pain shoot through you once more.

“My time is never wasted when it comes to you” he speaks softly, as if he realised that by shouting, he would be causing you pain.

“If you are in good health I was wondering if I might ask something of you?” Ah the question you have been waiting for, it could not have come quicker.

“Yes, you may” Your response could be seen as quite rushed if you were in a normal situation, however with the pressure in your temples building and the pain slowly becoming more intense, you found yourself not caring how your actions could be perceived as by others of the ton.

There is a moment of silence where neither of you say anything, staring at him expectingly, you choose to prompt him by nodding your head towards him, hoping he catches onto your hint.

“Oh Right!” he starts with a jump. “Well I came here today with a confession of sorts, I have witnessed you, wait! Ah!” he suddenly stops almost aware of how slightly strange he must sound.

“Oh goodness, well- I, god” You take some pity on him as he seems to stumble over his words, ablet not enough pity to warrant sitting patiently in an increasingly uncomfortable chair.

“Mr Bridgton, I do not mean to rush you but would you please simply ask this question” huffing slightly.

“I know this is not how I am supposed to go about this, but I cannot ignore my feelings for you any longer! Please would you do the honour of letting me court you?”

There is a pause after his confession, stunned, shocked you are not sure how to respond. You almost think it is some cruel jest that he has been set up to follow through, but as you look at him, his expression and how he holds himself you realise that he is being as truthful. You feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you, what does this mean? This cannot be real. This man of high stature wants to court you. While not lowly in rank, you certainly are not what you would expect a Bridgerton to go for and certainly not someone as seemingly broken as yourself.

Sitting there for a few more moments you realise that he is still waiting for your response.

“I, I cannot” you start “I am very sorry, but I cannot accept this offer.” You state, dropping your focus to the floor.

“I. what?” Benedict almost laughs, stunned.

“Why can you not? Are you intended to another?”

“No, I am very much not.”

“Are you interested in someone else?” You scoff at the question.

“No, not that it matters either way” The pain starting to build up even more now that you are having to argue your case.

“I have refused your offer, Mr Bridgton, I do fear that Ester had some truth in her words and I feel a headache coming on. I think it best that you leave for the day” You aren’t lying per se, you have had a headache for the best part of the day.

“But why not? I do apologise, but I am simply confused. You are not intended to another, and you are not interested in anyone else, so why refuse my offer.” He states.

“At least agree to court me, and then you can make your decision afterwards, at least let me have a chance to show you how I care for you.”

You are starting to get frustrated, and the pain in your head has started to become unbearable, like someone smashing pots and pans together, you feel a ringing in your ears, and you almost want to throw up.

“I am not well!” you explode, your breathing is ragged as your chest moves quickly. The pain in your temples is more present than ever, cringing you move to push your forefinger and thumb to either side of your nose bridge and start to pinch, hoping that brute force would almost will the pain to subside.

‘Pathetic’ you think to yourself, ‘I can’t even argue correctly, must everything I do be muddled with pain?’ You try and calm your breathing, focusing on the feeling of your fingers on your face, the clothes you are wearing, your breathing, anything to try and calm the pain down before it loses control.

There is a strange tension between the both of you, a quiet blanket that has been placed over the room as you do not know what to say.

“I am not well sir… I have not been for quite some time” you start again, still pressing your finger and thumb into the sockets below your eyebrows.

“Ester was right. I am riddled with pain, every day. I cannot dress without the pain, eat without it, speak, walk, laugh; live without it, I am tormented by it…” You begin to feel a sharp pain behind your eyes as tears start to fall onto your cheeks. Realising that by unravelling this thread that you would not be able to stop, you cannot tangle it back up again and simply throw it into your sewing box never to be spoken about again.

“I cannot be who you want me to be, I cannot offer you anything. It hurts to live, and I cannot burden you with that, you would be throwing away your freedom if I were to agree to your request. Do you want that? To be saddled with an intended that cannot do the simplest of tasks without the burden of pain?” You seem to burst out into a frenzy of words.

Without giving him a chance to argue back you move to stand, using a hand to brace yourself on the side of the chair you are occupying, you push down to give your body the momentum to move, your elbow shaking as it strains under the surplus of weight it is not normally used to. You curse yourself for not bringing your cane with you.

You pause while trying to catch your breath, frustrated that you simply cannot run out of the room and hide after such a shocking outburst, left to just stand there trying to muster up the strength and energy to try and move towards the door. With your head tilted down you were fortunate enough that you could not see his face, which was one of pain and shock.

Starting again you move towards the door, gripping the backs of chairs and the edges of side tables, with your back turned you don’t see Benedict moving as well, like a kicked puppy wanting to be comforted he follows behind you, he does keep his distance, not wanting to upset you further than you already are.

As you place your hand on the door, dropping it down so you are grabbing the handle, you feel a presence behind you. From the corner of your vision, you see a hand place itself on the door. You slowly turn around to face him, you thank some part of him that he is not crowding you up against the door, that he has given you some space.

“Please let me go, let me go. You can be free, you can move on, let me be.” you pleaded, looking up at him, your eyes flitting over his face looking for a sign, any sign that would indicate that he headed your prayer. You slowly focus on his eyes, looking within them, your breath hitches as all you see is a kindness so gut-wrenching it makes you feel physically sick.

There is no malice, no pity, or any inclination that he will follow your word. All you see within his gaze is kindness, one of love and hope. You start to feel overwhelmed, having such a kind affectionate gaze homed in on you. You think back to all the times you caught his gaze; at balls, gatherings, when he would come to speak to you, when he came to visit today to ask to court you. You think about how there was no pity within his stare, no sympathy, no looks of “such a shame, one so young yet so ill,” none of that.

You start to think about how you have brushed him off, how you have ignored him, at times even running away from him, too wrapped up in your melancholy to even look, actually look at how he was gazing at you, too scared to even admit that someone might even look at you within out an ounce of pity.

You start to think about how you could allow this, the love and admiration of another person, how this could happen. Could this happen? Could you willingly put your anxieties aside and let someone in, could they be your rock, could they hold you when the pain becomes overwhelming, suffocating you, pulling you down into despair?

Could you let him? As this question appears within your mind you feel a spark, like flint and rock smashing together, start within you. It is almost unnerving, unnatural. You have not felt this for an extraordinarily long time, almost losing belief that you could ever feel it again.

Hope. Hope that you could be loved and cherished, that you could have someone there for your bad days, as well as your good days where you could go for a walk or a carriage ride, where you could go to socials and visit family.

This line of thought left you almost breathless, as you still stood within the drawing room of your home. Slightly pressed up against the door, with one of your hands behind your back on the handle as you were trying to escape…again.

As this chaos was happening within your head, Benedict slowly brought his hand to your cheek, hesitating as if unsure if his action would cause you more pain than comfort.

Pushing the feeling of guilt down, you take a leap of faith by slowly moving your head towards him, tilting it so your cheek rests within his palm. You flinch slightly, Benedict moving his band away from you, nervous that he might have caused you more anguish. Quickly you stop him, bringing your other hand to cage his, gently placing his hand back onto your face, cupping your cheek and jaw slightly through his hand.

“It…it did not hurt that much, I was just surprised is all” you whispered “It has been a very long time since anyone has held my face this way” You can feel your reserve beginning to crack, you pushed forward, that small spark of hope within you starting to burn brighter.

“It is quite lovely actually, I don’t have to use as much energy to hold my head up when it is being held for me” you ramble, trying to ease the tension and hopefully his nerves.

“I see” he replies slowly, looking over you to make sure that his actions are not upsetting you in any way. Slowing analysing your features, sketching your appearance in his mind, unsure if he might get an opportunity to be this close to you again.

Bringing his focus to your eyes he is startled at what he finds, hope. A small whisp of it, and while surrounded by what he can assume is anxieties and doubt, he is so certain that it is there.

“If you would let me” he continues “it would be an honour to hold your head for you if only for a moment, to provide but a small reprieve.” Realising that you are not stopping him from speaking, he continues.

“You are so extraordinarily strong, a remarkable person. Willing to take on so much and push through it all, despite the load you carry” he feels your head rest slightly more in his hand, seeing your eyes fluttering before you shut them for a moment. He is worried slightly that he might have messed up, saying something that pushed you down into the darkness rather than bringing you up into the light. However, as you open your eyes again, slowly raising your focus from his chest to his face, then to meet his gaze once more, he disregards his previous concern. He can see that spark burning ever so slightly brighter.

You gently pressed his hand between your own and your face, turning the latter into his palm so that your lips were ever so gently touching below his thumb. If he would be so bold he could move the digit with a feather-like touch across your cheek and wipe away any tear marks from earlier.

“But you do not have to carry this load alone, I am not sacrificing my freedom wanting to be with you” parroting one of your earlier statements with earnestness.

“I am not sacrificing anything, I come forward willingly, I come to you after hearing about you and your life. I come to you as a willing partner if you would have me. Allow me to carry some of your load, let me hold your head and hands for you. Allow me the honour of holding you during your dark moments as well as your light.”

“I want to be there for you, with you, I am not here out of pity, I am here out of admiration and love. I fear that if I loved you any less, I would be able to talk about it more, my heart is but a reflection of you.” He felt like he was rambling, struggling to find the words to convey his true feelings, how he was frazzled by you, in a way he had not been before.

There was a pause and he started to doubt himself, his words, and his abilities before he saw a subtle movement from the outskirts of his vision.

As you looked into his eyes you could feel your grip on the door handle slipping, becoming less tense, less firm. Overcome with emotions from Benedict’s confession your hand goes limp, falling from the handle completely.

As you stare into his eye you slowly bring now limp hand up towards his face, almost parallel to his still cupping onto your own. You move slowly, akin to a dazed animal who is wary of any sudden movements; as you reach, you settle your arm on his chest resting so that your palm now cups his jawbone.

Benedict sees the movement, your hand dropping and moving up, towards him, he feels like he might faint, being able to touch you is one thing, but you, touching him is something he did not consider. He shuts his eyes, almost squeezing them closed not wanting to frighten you with how shocked he must look.

When you finally rest your hand against his chest, he felt like his heart must have stopped beating, he froze, willing himself to take a breath, to steel himself before opening his eyes.

For when he did, he was in awe, the spark that was once so dim, nearly stamped out was burning and it was burning bright.

“Do you mean it?” you ask, voice shaking slightly.

“With my whole heart, with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I will be by your side till you are through with me, till I drive you mad, till we are grey and even then, I will still hold your head for you so you can rest for a while.” Benedict tries to convey every ounce of his emotions that he feels so you can be sure that you are fully aware of what he is experiencing.

“I think I would like that” your reply is rushed. Not wanting to waste a moment, not letting it run away or hide. You finally made your choice, you would let hope win, you would lose the battle but win the war and your victory prize did not seem all that bad.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic

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gatitties · 8 months

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Half dead

─Task Force 141 x young!reader

─Summary: trapped after a mission, not everything seems to be going well for you, a deadly virus attacks the world and it seems that your provisional team is not very smart

─Warnings: blood, mentions of dismemberments, descriptive scenes¿, bad words, cliché, death, typical CoD violence

Part One / Part Two

I consider this as something special for Halloween¿¿, anyway I wanted to write a zombie!reader, if you have more ideas related don't be shy to request 😗

It was a hot day, too hot to be able to last more hours in the combat suit, as if that were not enough, you had been assigned with other officers for this specific mission, you did not have enough confidence to make jokes or sing a small part of that song stuck in your mind, it was the most boring day of your life but work was work.

Everything went well, maybe too well, and of course everything that ends well always has to have some setback since nothing and no one is perfect, but what you expected was that some enemy had escaped, some threat of death or things like that, however, you did not expect a virus spreading globally.

You were pretty screwed, all communication with the base was cut off, all the information was left with infected people that you had to avoid at all costs until you reached a safe and decontaminated area. You feared the worst and it seems like you're always right when you do since you were living through a fucking zombie apocalypse, it wasn't a big surprise to encounter several walking corpses on your way to the base after you were given specific orders to kill anyone who looked rotten.

What kind of time had you grown up in? It wasn't enough with a global pandemic that now you have to face a fucking apocalypse, you would prefer to have been born in the Middle Ages, at least they could have condemned you to death by burning at the stake or some far-fetched torture, it sounded more interesting and horrifying than simply a bacterial contagion.

The arrival at the base was complicated when you found a large horde, you supported the idea of surrounding the zombies but apparently the two assigned captains decided to play to see who had the biggest dick and see who could kill the most undead, they were orders from captain and you couldn't just go back to your boys until this stupid situation was over.

Apparently the only thing they managed to do was attract half of the infected city to your position, which ended in you having to separate and fight on your own. In turn, your luck wasn't smiling on you today Does that ever happen anyway? It didn't matter anymore because you were officially infected, the bite on your forearm made you bite your tongue when you saw the color of the blood mixed with yellow spittle, you were too slow and cowardly to cut off another arm at, yes, they had to bite you on your only good arm, you were so lucky.

From that moment on the infected lost interest in you, they nipped you a little and found one of your companions who was fleeing from another horde more delicious, well, screw life, at least you were able to enjoy everything you could, a shame that you can no longer continue bothering the boys with your presence.

You lay on the ground, looking at the scorching sun, your hand moved to your belt, grabbing a small radio that connected you to the central base, your pulse was unstable and your whole body began to shake, the heat became unbearable and you thought that you were experiencing hyperhidrosis. You pressed the button and brought the device closer to your mouth with the little strength you had.

"Hello… hello here “nibbles” the mission was a success, I guess you know that, but we had some complications on the way home, that virus, those stupid zombies" your breathing accelerated and for a moment you almost vomited right there "ugh… it doesn't matter, I- I don't think I'm going to make it in one piece even though I'm already missing an arm and I'm not 'in one piece' per se but…"

Even in a situation like this you couldn't help but make jokes, you continued your little talk until you felt like your consciousness was finally fading.

"I'm sorry, what I wanted to say is that I will miss you and that I will save you a special seat in hell, I don't know if we will see each other again but if we do I hope you have a bullet reserved in my name before I cause more problems , bye bye you idiots…"

You didn't want to seem too sentimental, but all the emotions and memories tightened your chest, you let the message be sent as you closed your eyes smiling at the sky, your body began to cool, suffocating the previous feeling of extreme heat.

You expected it, you expected to wake up, see the world in a different color, growl, search for meat, you know all that zombies do, however when you woke up a headache was what bothered you the most, the moon was shining in all its splendor, even though you didn't know if you'd slept a whole day or more, your whole body still felt strange and numb, like you'd taken a beating and couldn't feel anything.

But the thing was that apart from a strange feeling of being very hungry and the numbness of your body, everything remained the same, the bite mark disappeared, your wounds healed… you thought that maybe you were the cliché character who had antibodies against the zombie virus, but seeing how some of the living dead walked past you, ignoring you, made you think that it wasn't like that.

You were dead, at least, half dead, your body seemed capable enough to withstand the virus, but only half of the antibodies seemed to work on it so you were in a kind of limbo. You didn't have the need to specifically eat human meat, you still had rational thoughts (to a certain extent because you were still you), but you didn't feel your body, your skin changed its tone to a more yellowish one? you were definitely rotting, besides…

"Is this some kind of punishment for all that dark humor? I guess that's fair."

Was what you muttered to you between grunts, something else, it seemed like you weren't going to be able to speak properly since your throat seemed damaged. When you got up, one of your eyes fell out of its socket, it was hanging from the nerve, you did your best to put it in its place. You checked that your whole body responded to your movements and it did, so now you didn't know what to do. Should you go back to base? Would they kill you now that you know you're a zombie? You didn't have much to lose anyway, maybe you could say goodbye to the boys properly.

At dawn you found yourself banging on the armored doors, you were greeted by a bunch of clipped shotguns and AKs that completely lowered themselves when they recognized you, you underwent certain decontamination chambers and they let you pass. No suspicion? You looked like a terminally ill person, what kind of security was this? You couldn't complain either.

"Oh God look, where the hell were you!? and why did that message come yesterday!?"

As soon as you set foot in the meeting room where some soldiers dragged you away, Price's angry voice hit you like a slap.

"Not even a hello? How was your mission?"

You smiled swallowing your nerves, for once you felt intimidated because everyone was there watching as if you were a prey, you could see that their intentions were to look for any type of bite, although again, no one noticed that you looked like a decomposing body? Did you look that bad normally? Hard blow to your morale.

"We were worried about you, you seem sick, did you spend the night out because of that? You have the voice of a sailor with a cold."

Soap approached you but you backed away unconsciously when he reached for your arm, Gaz and Price shared a stunned look while Ghost's eyes darkened.

"Eh… I'm sorry, I think you shouldn't touch me, I think- I think-" you didn't have the courage to say it out loud, despite all the inside jokes you had made with yourself about being a walking corpse, you felt like it was too much worse to tell them because they would have to be the ones to kill you, the ones to kill their own partner, but it would be easier and less dangerous for them, right? "I'm infected."

The room fell silent, you avoided any kind of eye contact while they seemed to argue silently, Gaz was the one who stepped forward to Soap's side, a step closer to you.

"Maybe you're being paranoid, you just look sick, it's not the first time we've seen you with a fever, the last time you thought you were Spiderman and you hung from a lamp, remember?"

As much as you wanted to laugh at that memory you slowly denied, they didn't believe you in the slightest due to your constant jokes, thinking that you joked even in a situation like this (which isn't a lie if you weren't already a zombie), you swallowed dryly when this time it was Ghost that approached you, you knew that you wouldn't be able to dodge him if he tried to grab your arm, not like Soap, and so it was, you didn't feel his grip on your non-prosthetic arm but you saw it clearly, his look was slowly killing you.

"Prove it, if you are infected, prove it."

"Only if you promise to kill me."

And inevitably everyone tensed up because of the seriousness with which you said that, they didn't see that confidence in your words very often, and your determined look… they didn't want to think what they were thinking, they didn't want to accept that you had really become one of those walking rotten things, you were there, you could talk ─with a little difficulty─ but you seemed as normal as ever, how was it possible that you were infected if you didn't look like a monster?

Ironically they had to believe it by force, since you couldn't feel, you didn't notice that Ghost hadn't let go of your arm, the grip was stronger than you thought and it resulted in you turning around and taking a couple of steps to go to the cells, your arm came off your shoulder, at first they thought it was simply your prosthetic arm, but it wasn't like that.

"Oh fuck…"

Gaz leaned on Soap, Price sat in the nearest chair while Ghost looked in detail at how the bone in your arm protruded from the detached appendage as well as some veins that looked like small threads clinging to the rest of your body since they had not detached completely. You smiled embarrassed at the ignorance that you were now a Playmobil, as if that were not enough, your eye fell out of its socket again at that precise moment.

"Uh- oh, I think there you have your evidences, do you need me to start smelling like rotten meat or…?"

Ghost put your arm back in its place slowly, taking a step back, although it fell again and you had to use a handkerchief to make it stay in its place, you put your eye back in its socket, it slipped a couple of times because it was now wet due to some stubborn tears.

"Hey, hey, we're not going to kill you, I'm not going to-"

Soap had the intention of calming you down, trying to reach you although both Gaz and Ghost stopped him before he could get close to you, seeing this was like having a thorn stuck in your heart.

"No, it's fine, really, I came here so you could finish me off, one less threat on the battlefield."

You intended the joke to be funny, but all you earned were silent stares, right now you felt completely out of place, in an awkward silence between you and your team.

"No, no, you haven't thought about this have you? We can't kill you idiot." Price's insult and his usual scolding tone was the only thing that made you feel back on earth, everyone looked at him, he seemed to be fuming from his ears while the gears in his head turned "From the little we know, all the zombies have been aggressive and driven by impulses towards all kinds of life, but you're here having a normal conversation and being the dumbass you usually are on a normal day, don't you understand? We can't kill you, they can't kill you, you're different."

Oh that part came, you're different from the rest, you lived your whole life to be told that, man, were you in a fanfic? At least you hoped it wasn't one of those where they decided to put photos of outfits instead of describing the clothes or one of those where they gave you an overly detailed look.

"Does that mean I can stay half alive?"

"For the moment, anyway, no one else has to know."

Clicking your tongue as if finding out that you would still be alive was bad news, returning to your natural state of humor everyone looked at you disapprovingly, everyone seemed to sigh in relief at Price's comment, Soap and Gaz were the first to approach knowing that you wouldn't do anything, although Ghost insisted on putting a muzzle on you just in case.

For the moment they could keep you hidden from the rest of the soldiers inside the base, but it wouldn't take long for your skin to rot completely, and the smell of death was something that wasn't so easy to hide, they were playing against time until someone found you and inform it, seeing your unusual behavior as a zombie would surely draw the attention of the scientists and these guys wouldn't be willing to have you tortured in the name of science and then not get a shitty cure, they weren't risking that for you.

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 10 months

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Pairing : Seo Changbin x F!Reader & Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : For Changbins : reader has type 2 diabetes ; ketoacidosis (is that a TW? Well it is now, it seems like it should be a warning) ; vomiting ; hospitals ; Changbin is still just a big sweetheart that cares too much ; IV's ; reader in a coma ; For Jeongins : reader has arrhythmia (irregular heartbeat) ; and potentially undiagnosed type 2 diabetes ; Jeongin has no clue so is therefore seemingly insensitive ; reader fainting ; Jeongin ending redemption ; Word Count : For Changbins : 4.6k For Jeongins : 4.1k (in total : 8.7k) Request : @maruskz @slayhyunjin & 4 other anons, the reader doesn't feel well!! A/N : THIS ONE IS FOR YOU ALL!! IT'S THE LAST ONE IN THE LINEUP!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!! Thank you to the person in my comments who let me know I (and google) goofed up. I will try to be as accurate as possible when writing about any type of disease, so please let me know in the comments if I'm wrong.

Changbin

“I'm gonna go to the gym with Chan after work, but I should be back home before dinner time.” Changbin said as he pulled his t-shirt on over his head, smiling at you as you laid in the bed still, your eyes still heavy although he chalked it up to you tossing and turning all night and having to get out of bed every couple hours to use the bathroom. “Do you have enough medicine to get you through the day? I can stop at the pharmacy before I go to the gym and drop it off to you.”

Your head shook in response as you let out a long yawn, sitting up in bed but immediately falling back as your vision momentarily went hazy, which you attributed to sitting up too fast. “I have enough… Thank you Binnie. I gotta work today anyway, so if I need my medicine I can stop by the pharmacy on the way home.” You murmured and he sighed softly, dropping down onto the bed beside you, his hand brushing lightly over your cheeks before leaning in to kiss you.

“You know I don’t like you walking to the store by yourself…” He reminded you, his bottom lip jutting out into a little pout and you playfully swiped your finger over it causing him to chuckle softly. “Plus you said that you weren’t feeling well… you shouldn’t be going to work like that. You can just stay home and rest… You need to rest, babe.” Bin had been your biggest caregiver since he found out you had diabetes, but not only was he the best caregiver, but supported you through it all, changing his diet as much as he could so that you didn’t feel like you were missing out on good meals, texting you every hour on the hour to check how you were feeling and to make sure you were taking your medicine. He was just as good as any doctor, and you felt safe knowing that you had him.

“Bin, I’m fine.” You reassured him, grabbing his hand and locking your fingers with his. “I need to go to work… I called out yesterday. I’m not trying to lose my job.” You explained, sitting up more slowly this time and then immediately resting your head against his shoulder.

“When was the last time you threw up?” He questioned, and you knew that his reasoning for questioning you was valid and it all came from his genuine care for you, it made you feel bad in a way, knowing that he probably spent more time worrying about you than about himself. “I feel like I heard you get sick in the middle of the night…”

“And you did… But that was the last time I got sick.” You said as cheerfully as you could. “It was probably just some 24 hour stomach bug, I’m totally okay. Now go to work before Chan calls me up and yells at me for making you late.” You kissed along his shoulder, giggling softly at the way he’d purposely flex his muscles whenever you did. “I love you Bin…”

“I love you too…” He whispered, tilting your head up so he could kiss you correctly, his lips held against yours just a little bit longer than usual as his eyes closed. You could tell that he was worried, but you were adamant, and he knew the one thing you hated was to be coddled because of your disease… But he couldn’t help it, although he tried his best. “Call me if you need anything… Or if you start feeling sick. I’ll rush home… I love you so much, babe.”

Going to work really was on your agenda for the day, you had even texted your boss to let her know you were coming. Sure, you felt a little tired still, but you attributed that to the fact that you had woken up in the middle of the night to throw up a couple times and it just took a toll on you. You truly thought that you were better, that is, until Changbin was gone and you got up to make yourself breakfast, everything was laid out perfectly on the counter, you were about to start cooking, but, without warning, your body had different ideas and you ended up doubled over the sink, throwing up the lack of contents in your empty stomach.

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath which put you into panic mode which inevitably made you hyperventilate even more. The entire room seemed to go hazy, or maybe it was just your vision, and it sucked that by the time you came to realize what was going on, you were too late.

It was hard enough as it was to try to think, it was like every single thought that you once had in your mind was gone, the only thing you felt or could think about was panicking. Your legs gave out and you fell to the floor, and it was like falling against the hard tile had shaken you enough to have you pulling out your phone and dialing the police. Before it could even finish getting through the first ring though, your vision went blank, your thoughts were gone, everything went black…

“I’m just gonna go home and check on her, she hasn’t answered any of my texts.” Changbin informed Chan as they walked down the hall together. It’s not that it was unlike you to be so busy at work that you were late to respond, it’s just that with the way you were feeling the night before, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. “I’ll meet you at the gym.”

“Nah, I’ll go with you, just in case you need me.” And it’s not that anything in Changbins words had made the oldest feel that way, he just felt like he should be there. “Plus I haven’t seen her in a while, you never bring her into the studio anymore.”

“Well she has her doctor's appointments and then she has to work…” He explained as he climbed into the elevator, holding it open for Chan before pressing the button to go down to the main floor. “I always tell her that she doesn’t have to work… I think she just feels like that’s the one thing in her life that she has control of… I don’t want to take that away from her.”

Chan nodded understandingly, he knew all about your conditions, all of the guys did. Changbin was very upfront about it, letting them all know that there would be days that he wouldn’t make it into work on time so he could go to appointments with you, and there would also be days that he wouldn’t come in at all because you needed him more than the group did. You were always and would always be Changbins top priority, and everyone was well aware of that. They didn’t mind, they saw how happy you made him, and they knew that if anything would ever happen to you, they’d end up losing him anyway.

“I thought she was going to the gym with you on her days off… Did she stop?” Chan posed the question as he pushed through the front doors to the building, holding it open for Changbin and then following him down to the car. “We could have a gym double date or something?”

Changbins nose crinkled at the thought, and then he chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Y/Ns just been feeling tired lately. I don’t want to push her. We take morning walks together and the doctor said that was enough until her energy comes back. They did switch her medicine recently, so that might be it.” He climbed into the drivers side and waited for Chan to get in before starting up the car. “I hope she packed herself a lunch, she shouldn’t be eating the junk they sell near her work… I should have packed her a lunch before I left.”

“You think too much, too pessimistic…” Chan mused, leaning back in the seat and glancing over at Changbin who seemed too lost in his thoughts right now. “You do a lot for her, not because you have to, but because you want to, because you love her… There’s not a lot of men who wouldn’t do that…”

“Well those men are assholes.” Changbin stated matter-of-factly, stopping at the red light that would have him turning down the street to home. “She deserves all the love in the world, maybe more… I wish I could give her every ounce of my love… I’d give her my entire heart…”

Chan pursed his lips, nodding along to what he was saying as he watched the familiar houses scroll past the window until he pulled into the driveway. “When does she usually go to work? She might already be there…” Chan mused when he saw that there was a package on the front step.

“Maybe they called her in early?” Changbin mumbled as he climbed out of the car, running up to the front porch and picking up the box before letting himself in. It wasn’t rare, in actuality it was quite annoyingly frequent that you were called in at a moments notice, usually going into work with an empty stomach, leaving Changbin to panic the entire time you were gone. “I hate when they do that to her…”

“It looks like she was in the middle of cooking something… or about to cook something at least.” Chan commented as he followed Changbin into the house, noticing the ingredients that were scattered around the counter, the sink not exactly running, but it was still dripping. “Looks like she left in a hurry.”

Changbin groaned loudly, pulling out the trash bin and dumping everything that littered the counter into it before slamming his hand down against the sink faucet to stop the incessant dripping. “I don’t care how much of a hurry she’s in… She shouldn’t leave the house like this.” He grumbled, looking around at the knives and the cutting board that were partially used. “It’s that damn job… She’s so scared of losing it… And they know that. They hold it above her head… And she won’t listen to me… It’s ridiculous. But to leave the kitchen looking like this!” His hands flew up in the air in disbelief before coming back down, slapping against the counter top. “You know what… I’m going to her work. I need to talk to someone… They’re completely taking advantage of her.”

Chan awkwardly chewed on his bottom lip, partially regretting coming along for the little journey that Changbin was now taking him on, but he hoped that being there himself would at least help him to be level headed enough to be as calm as possible. “Just… Don’t make a scene… And don’t try to jump across the counter, okay? We can talk about things like adults… Can’t we?”

Changbin rolled his eyes, not even answering the question as he walked out the door and climbed back in the car. The kitchen was disgusting, but he could never actually be mad at you, not at all… You were too innocent, and you’d never think that your work was doing exactly what Changbin knew they were doing. That’s why he wanted to talk to them specifically, whoever had called you in… “Oh I’m gonna talk about things… It’s up to them whether we keep things cordial though. Taking advantage of my girl like that? Not gonna happen! Not anymore!”

Chan knew that Changbin was an excellent driver, he was safe, he followed all the traffic rules, he’d drive with him whenever he felt he needed to… But not today. Changbin was pissed, and a driving, pissed off Changbin threw all of his cares to the wind. Traffic rules did not exist, and the other drivers abided by whatever rules Changbin came up with on the spot. “You know, if you get pulled over… You won’t be able to talk to anyone except the police.” Chan tried to remind her, but Changbin wasn’t listening to anything but the sound of the engine revving as he whipped around a couple other cars before pulling-very badly-into a parking spot right in front of your work. “There are going to be so many cops around your car when you get out of the store, oh my god.”

“As long as I get to finish with this conversation before they pull me out of the store, then fine.” Changbin said as he climbed out, his muscles tensed, the irritation just radiating around him. Chan was hesitant, but he knew that following him into the store would be the best course of action, so he did, but he did stay a little further behind, watching from a distance as Changbin walked up to the counter. “Alright… Where is she!? I know she had to work today and to be honest, she might say it, but I’m getting real fucking sick and tired of you taking advantage of her niceness and her willingness to work.”

The man at the counter was visibly confused as he looked around himself and then back at Changbin. “Uhm… dude… I don’t know what… Or who you’re talking about…” He mumbled, peering around Changbin to see the person waiting behind him. “But if you’re not buying anything… Can you get out of the line?”

Changbin turned around, smiling kindly to the stranger behind him, but the smile fell just as quickly when he turned back around to face the man at the register. “I know you called Y/N in today! Where is she, huh? You got her doing some backroom stocking shit right now?! You know she can’t do that! She didn’t even get to finish making her meal because you guys always call her in! It’s bullshit! Why have a damn schedule if you’re just gonna text her and tell her you need her earlier?”

“What are you talking about?” The man, now having harvested a little bit of sass to stand up to Changbin, who was still much bigger than the guy. “Y/N isn’t even here right now. She totally flaked on her hours, and the manager has been trying to get a hold of her but she hasn’t answered. How about you try calling her instead of coming in here and causing a scene and scaring away our customers.” The guy impatiently tapped his fingers against the counter before motioning with his head for Changbin to move. “Can you go now?”

If you weren’t at work… And you weren’t at home… Where the hell were you? His anger dissipated and quickly turned to worry. Your medicine was running out, but you had told him that you had enough to get you through the day. You were feeling sick the night before, but you claimed it was just a stomach bug and that you were feeling fine now. It’s not like you would leave him… He never gave you any reason to do something like that… Right?

“Maybe you should call the neighbors… See if they know anything?” Chan suggested as he and Changbin sat in the car, still parked in front of the store, and shockingly enough, there wasn’t a single officer in sight to get on Changbin about his reckless driving. That was a good thing though, clearly Changbin wasn’t in the mood or in the right state of mind to handle that kind of interaction. “Or maybe the police station or the hospital… See if any calls came in from your address?”

Changbin nodded, the movement kind of stiff as he pulled out his phone. He didn’t know where to start, but he also didn’t know the neighbors number, not by heart, and most of them had work today and they weren’t home. He didn’t want to have to call the hospital because that was the last place he wanted you to be, but it was the only option he had, the only line he had to hold on to right now.

The call was short, and for the first time the entire day, Changbin had been almost completely silent, only giving out the address and then a series of mumbled out acknowledgements were heard before the silence that followed once the call was ended. It was a scary silence though, one that held far too much emotion, and although Changbin hadn’t said anything, Chan could feel it. “So… What did they-”

There wasn’t a chance to finish as Changbins fists came down on the steering wheel, punching against it repeatedly as tears began to trickle down his cheeks, his screams cut off by his sobs. Chan didn’t know what to do, but he felt like he should try to stop him, mainly because the steering wheel looked like it would break off and neither of them needed that to happen. “Don’t touch me! Don’t!” Changbin shouted when Chan tried to grab his arms, but it had stopped his assault on the wheel momentarily, his head falling forward as his body shook.

“Changbin…” Chan said breathlessly, falling back against the seat and staring up at the roof of the car. “I don’t know what the hell is going on… But you can’t just beat up the car. If you want me to take you to the hospital, I will, because based on your reaction I’m just feeling like that’s where she is. Or I can take you home. Either way, you’re not driving, not like this. You’ll get in an accident and nobody wants that.”

He sniffled softly, nodding his head as he lifted it from the wheel, opening the door slowly and climbing out, walking around to the passenger side of the car. “They said… She was there…” He muttered, watching Chan climb over to the drivers side and then quickly getting in and putting on his seatbelt. “They said that she…. She can’t talk right now…” His head shook and his shakily sniffled, his entire body trembling as he practically gasped for air. “I knew there was something wrong… She wasn’t feeling good and… And I was worried but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stay with her… I should have taken her to the hospital… I didn’t… I failed her…”

Chan knew that the guilt would be there, but it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking to see his friend, his brother like this. He didn’t even know what to do, because he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, he’d be feeling the same way. “You didn’t fail her… You believed her because she said that she was okay… That’s not your fault. Plus, you said it yourself, she likes feeling like she has some sort of control over her life… Maybe she thought she’d be able to get better herself…”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I left… She’s supposed to trust me and… how can she trust me now… when I left her… Like that…” He was stumbling over his words as his tears continued to fall down his cheeks, his hands quickly swiping across his face to wipe them away. “She was… She was in the middle of making her lunch… She didn’t even get to eat…”

There was nothing that Chan could say to get Changbin out of his own head, so he just listened, completely understanding where he was coming from, but he wished that Changbin would understand that it wasn’t his fault. “She’s sick Changbin… These things happen… You’ve done a lot of research on it, you know these things can happen. But you can’t protect her all the time… You just can’t.”

Changbin was silent for a moment, his thumb coming up to his mouth as he chewed on his nail. “I want to… I want to protect her… I researched things and… And I knew that things like this could happen and I still left her. I knew the symptoms that were bad… and she had all of them… Why did I leave?” He was breathing heavily, it almost sounded like he was about to throw up himself. “If I was there..-“

“It still would have happened because she was sick, Changbin…” Chan said sternly, trying to snap Changbin out of this self deprecating spiral he was in. “You can’t be with her every second of every day, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be like that anyway. This would have happened whether you were home with her or not. Beating yourself over it won’t change things.”

The hospital towered over the car, shadowing him and Chan when they stepped out, like a giant dark cloud and Changbin hated it. He hated hospitals anyway, and the only reason he was going in was because you were in there. “You don’t have to follow me in…” He mumbled when Chan climbed out of the car as well. “She wouldn’t want to be crowded.”

“I’ll wait in the waiting room, I’ll wait for you. You can’t stay here all night and someone needs to drive you home.” Chan said and Changbin just nodded, he didn’t have the energy to go against what he said. “Do you need me to go up to the front desk and ask f-“

“I’m not an infant.” Changbin snapped before taking a deep breath and running his hands over his face. “Sorry… I just… I’m scared, hyung. I can do it though… thank you.” Chan pursed his lips as he patted Changbins back, holding the door open for him and then following behind.

It was hard to ask the lady at the front desk about you, mainly because it made it more real that you were truly there. His voice cracked and his vision became blurry as he started to cry again just from simply asking what room you were in.

“The treatment is going well, sir. It’s-”

“Is it?” Changbin cut the doctor off as he stood at the end of your bed, the IV’s poking out of your arm looked painful, and the tubes that were in your nose and your mouth to help you breathe surely weren’t reassuring. “Is it really going well, because if it were, she’d be awake right now. She’d be happy to see me… But she’s sleeping… She’s still sleeping… So tell me how this is supposed to show me that the treatment is going well.”

His fingers were wrapped tightly around the footboard of the bed, and his head slowly turned to look at the doctor who was, rightfully, quite scared of Changbin. His temperament was nothing short of seemingly hostile, and it seemed like anything could make him snap in an instant. “Sir… We truly are trying to get her to rise as soon as possible, and I assure you, she will be okay… She will wake up… But this rest, it’s, in a sense… It’s kind of helpful… Her body has surely been through a lot.” The word helpful in this setting was definitely not something that Changbin wanted to hear, and his teeth gritted together as he narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “Wh-What I meant to say is… She was sick… For a while. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t, we’re unsure… But her body just wasn’t able to produce enough insulin and… Well I’m sure that you know what ketoacidosis is-”

“Yes I know what that is.” Changbin snapped, his breaths becoming more harsh as he glared at the doctor. “I’ve done everything to protect her… To make sure she’s healthy and well… So why did this happen?!” He knew that shouting at the doctor wouldn’t give him the answers that he wanted so badly, but he needed to get it all out, he needed to let go of the anger that he was holding in towards himself, and sadly for the doctor, he was the only one in the room right now.

“We all want to protect the people that we love, and I tell you, it is crystal clear that you love her… But you can’t always protect them, you can’t always protect her, and you can’t protect her from herself. She’s got a disease, and with this disease comes moments like this… And that’s just something that you either get used to… Or-”

“I’m not leaving her.” Her hissed, finally turning back to look at you. “You hear that, babe. I’m not leaving you… You’re stuck with me. I’m gonna sit right here beside you until your beautiful eyes open and you look up at me and I can tell you how much I love you…”

“Well…” The doctor whispered sheepishly, his hands clapping together as he looked nervously as Changbin, slowly backing away in the process. “There are visiting hours and… Everyone kind of has to abide by those hours. You won’t really be able to stay in here… Or sit beside her… As sweet as the sentiment is…”

Changbin chuckled, although there was nothing funny about what was going on, and the sound was more snarky than anything as he grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and sat it down next to your bed, dropping down into it and crossing his arms over his chest. “I said I’m not leaving… And you can try to drag me out of here, but I’ll come back. I’ll always come back because I’m not leaving her here with you guys all by herself. So you can either cause a bigger problem… Or you can just let me sit here.”

The doctor relented, shaking his head as he walked out of the room. Changbin wasn’t sure whether he should prepare himself for security to come in and try to get him out, or maybe the doctor was just letting the other doctors and the nurses know about the way that he was. Whatever the reason, no one had come in the room for the past five minutes, and he felt like he was in the clear, so he let himself finally look at you, really look at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?” He murmured, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, wishing for the feeling of your fingers slipping between his own, but there was no movement, there was nothing. Your hands felt so cold in his and he quickly placed a kiss to the back of it before sliding it underneath the blanket to try to keep you warm. “I think I made you lose your job… But it’s okay… I’ll take care of us, I promise I will… I can even find you a job in the office if you really want to work… I just want you close to me.” Your heart rate started to climb the more he spoke, and that in itself had a solemn smile gracing his saddened features. “You hear me… I know you do. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I love you… And I’d do anything to hear you say it back right now… I just need you to wake up.” His sniffles were loud as his head fell forward against the bed, his entire body shaking and his fingers gripping onto the blankets. He had never felt so helpless when it came to you, but the doctor was right… He couldn’t protect you from yourself… That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try though. In fact, he’d try harder now… He needed you to wake up though… That’s all he needed.

Jeongin

Jeongin didn’t exactly live with you, although the guys often joked that he might as well considering he was over your house more than anything else. It’s not even that he didn’t want to live with you, to be completely honest, he just liked the way you sounded in the morning when he rolled out of bed, the way you’d so cutely ask him if he was coming back over when he got off work. Of course he was, there was nowhere else he’d rather fall asleep than beside you, but he loved teasing you, and you’d pout up at him making it almost impossible to resist kissing your perfect lips.

From a technical standpoint, he had been living with you for three months now… and Jeongin was not only an amazing person to live with, but he was also an amazing boyfriend. Not for the typical reasons though, actually, it was quite the opposite. Your condition wasn’t too bad, it definitely wasn’t the best medical ailment to have, but… When life gives you lemons… You make what you can with those lemons.

In the duration of your relationship, you had become somewhat of a master at both treating your condition and hiding it from Jeongin. Now, you may be asking… Why hide it from him? And, the reason was quite simple. You loved him, and the last thing you needed him to do was worry about you when he had so much to worry about himself. He was a jokester, he was a smartass, but he had a heart twice the size of the moon it seemed sometimes, and if he knew that there was something wrong with you he’d worry too much.

It also made it easier to relax, to be able to somewhat make light of the situation, which of course shouldn’t be made light of, but sometimes you just got tired of the seriousness from the doctors and your family, you got tired of being constantly told to watch for your blood pressure, to listen to your heartbeat, to take your medicines. You just wanted to be able to joke around sometimes.

“Damn sweetcheeks!” Jeongin teased as he laid his head on your chest, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair as you both watched tv. “I really do make your heart go boom boom crazy.” And you couldn’t help but snort loudly at the comment because, while he wasn’t exactly wrong, your heart already beat like crazy, he just made it even crazier. “It’s cause I’m cute, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes at him, teasingly pushing him away. “Oh yeah, you’re totally cute.” You said mockingly, watching his eyes go wide at the very obvious sarcasm. “You’re the cutest, Innie. You already know that though.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead before sitting up and taking a deep breath, winded just from goofing up.

“Ooh, looks like I take your breath away too. Even after two whole years, I’ve got the same effect on you.” He sat up, kissing your forehead before getting up off the couch. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you for the rest of the morning, I have to go to work.” He pouted, as if you would somehow be able to bribe Chan into letting Jeongin stay home. “I guess I’ll just… walk out the door now… be gone for almost ten hours… that’s how long you won’t see me…”

He was always so dramatic, sometimes it seemed like Hyunjin had really rubbed off on him, not that you minded though. At the beginning of the relationship he had been so shy, it was like he avoided your touch and your affection, but now he was as clingy as you thought you were in the beginning. “The door will be unlocked when you get off, pooh bear.” You reassured him and he pouted even more now, causing you to, foolishly, jump off the couch, your head spinning and your vision going partially blank as your balance wobbled.

“Woah… you good there, sweets?” He asked, his usually cheerful voice masked with his worry as he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you steady. “You coulda just told me to come over to give you the hug. Try not to get up so fast.” His hands slid down to your hips and he pulled you closer, leaning in to kiss you softly. “I’ll let you know when I get off and if you need anything from the store I’ll get it on my way back… I mean… If you want me to come over.”

“Oh shush…” You pressed your finger against his lips with a smile, still breathing quite heavily as you leaned your head against his chest, your hands falling to your side. “You can come over whenever because it’s your house too… It’s our house.” You kissed his chest and then backed up, falling back onto the couch. “Don’t work too hard… I’ll miss you.”

His lips drew into a thin line as he looked you over, trying not to think so hard about the way your head fell back against the couch and your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling heavily. If there was something wrong, you’d surely tell him… Of course you would. He was your boyfriend, you could tell him anything, he wanted you to tell him everything. “I’ll miss you too… I’ll be home in a couple hours… Love you.”

You hummed in response, listening for the door to shut before getting up and sprinting to your room, which in itself was a bad idea, falling to the floor and pulling out the shoebox full of medicine out from under the bed and taking one of the pills, laying your head against the edge of the bed as you tried to relax. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hide this from him, and you could see that he was already picking up on something being wrong, he just wasn’t questioning it verbally. It was just a matter of time now.

“Y/N’s been acting really weird lately…” Jeongin mused as he and the guys took a small break during practice, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of his drink, his mind reeling with far too many things right now. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking things… I do that sometimes…” He basically talked to himself now even though the rest of the guys were listening.

“Depends on what kind of weird it is.” Minho posed, and whether it was done on purpose or simply to try to help Jeongin get to the bottom of the way that he was feeling, it wasn’t helping at all. “Is it like a sneaky weird, like… Like does she have a secret side boyfriend? Is she gonna break up with you?” The questions were both terrifying and gut wrenching at the same time, Jeongins eyes widened at the possibility, but you would never do something like that… Not without talking to him first.

“N-No… It’s… It’s like a sick… Like she’s sick or something.” He quickly explained what had happened this morning, the way that you acted. He was worried sick, but he felt like if it truly was nothing then you’d think he was silly for being so scared. Then again, it came along with being your boyfriend… He was supposed to worry about you, right? That’s the way it seemed when he watched the other guys with their partners.

Minho hummed, nodding his head as he snorted softly, placing a gentle hand on Jeongins shoulder to try to calm the obviously worried boy. “She’s on her period. That’s what’s going on… And I promise you… She’ll be totally fine. She’ll just bleed for a couple days, she’ll probably cramp up so bring her lots of her favorite snacks and heating pads to help her… But other than that… There’s not really much that you can do. Best of luck.”

Your period, of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that?! He had been with you for a quite a while now, and he knew that your body wasn’t the kindest to you when it was that time of the month. “Right… Maybe I can get her some… Some ibuprofen or something too… To help with the cramps… Shouldn’t I?” He asked, looking to all of his hyungs for answers to this current situation that none of them knew about, but they had partners that suffered the same monthly fate that you did, so they at least knew enough.

“That’s good… That’s a good idea. Look at you! So smart.” Jisung ruffled Jeongins hair as he walked by, earning himself a grimace from Jeongin who took the comment as sarcasm, but he felt like he was a good boyfriend… A really good boyfriend for thinking of the medicine. He didn’t like seeing you in pain, and while he was rarely ever around for your times of the month because of work… He remembered the one time he came home when you were having really bad cramps and it broke his heart to see you hurting so badly.

“I’m the best boyfriend here. I’m gonna go home and take care of my girl.” Jeongin boasted quite proudly, and no one in the room disagreed. They were proud of him, they were happy for him. He had finally found someone to share his life with, he had grown and matured so much in the process too… They couldn’t feel anything but pride for having him as their little brother.

You laid across the couch, trying your best to relax, but it didn’t seem to be working, not the way it usually would. The last time you had felt this bad was so long ago, it had been your parents who had rushed you to the hospital, your feet not even touching the floor of the car yet as your mom sat in the backseat with you to try to help you breathe through it. The medicine was supposed to keep this from happening, or at least from happening as bad as it was right now. For the longest time it had helped, maybe you had just waited too long before taking it today.

“I’m home, sweets!” Jeongin announced as he walked through the front door, the sudden entrance startling you and saving you from slipping into unconsciousness yet again. “I know you’ve been feeling bad lately… So I got you some stuff.” He held the bags with a wide smile, and you didn’t know how he found out, but somehow he did. At least he wasn’t mad or upset with you for hiding it for so long.

“What’s in the bags, Innie?” You quizzed when he set them down on the floor next to the couch and then walked into the kitchen. “It looks like a lot.” It was about four bags, but they all seemed to be stuffed with a bunch of different things.

“Yah! Don’t go looking through the bags yet! I want to sit with you and watch your face when you see everything I got!” He called out, and you felt so warm, and your heart that was already beating erratically, fluttered even more. He had found out about your condition, and instead of coming straight home and trying to talk to you about it, he had gone and gotten you treats… He was the sweetest, kindest- “Damn, you really have been on that couch all day.”

Your soft thoughts practically record scratched at his words, and usually you’d be able to hear the teasing tone or the sarcasticness in his voice when he said something like that… But not this time. “What are you talking about? I have gotten up off the couch…” You defended yourself, because you really have been up on your feet, it just wasn’t the best thing for you to do right now so you were trying to keep yourself safe, that’s what your doctor had advised you to do when you felt this way.

The sink started running and you could hear the trash can lid being opened, slapping against the counter before being closed again. “Well not to do anything productive.” He countered, and you swore it was like a complete 180 with him. How could he just come home and seem so understanding and then get like this in a matter of seconds? “You left everything from breakfast all over the counters… Do you even know how long it’s been since I made you breakfast? That’s slob behavior!” He was clearly annoyed, and every time something was slammed down or thrown into the sink to be washed, your heart would skip a couple more beats and your chest would tighten up even more. “I know you’ve got your period and all… But damn, you couldn’t even clean off the counter or run some water over the plates? That’s just lazy.”

Period? You didn’t have your period… But now it was making sense. He thought he knew what was going on… He thought it was your period… That’s why he had bought so many things to try to make you feel better. He must have noticed you acting strange this morning and tried his best to figure it out, and obviously he wasn’t going to jump immediately to what your real condition was, there was no reason for him to even think that’s what was wrong. “I don’t have my period…” You retorted breathlessly, two fingers pressing against your neck as your eyes closed to focus on the rather quick, maybe far too quick, beating of your heart. “You don’t… You don’t know what’s wrong…”

“Oh clearly I do! You don’t have your period, there’s nothing actually keeping you from being even slightly clean. You’re just lazy.” He said as he turned off the sink in the kitchen and walked past you behind the couch. “I should have just stayed at the dorms tonight, at least they know how to clean up after themselves.”

You didn’t know where this was coming from, why he was being like this, but you were quickly moving on from being upset, to thoroughly pissed, and neither of those were good for your blood pressure right now. “Yeah… You should have… Because you’re not really helping me out here at all. You don’t fucking listen!”

Jeongin laughed sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t help!? I just cleaned the whole fucking kitchen because you didn’t, but I’m not helping you out. Okay. Yeah… Yeah okay, we’ll go with that.” He scoffed loudly, shaking his head as he went to the front door. “You know what, next time you want to lay around on the couch all day, at least have the common decency to clean up a bit so I don’t have to do it when I get home from work.”

God, he was absolutely infuriating. This was a side of him that you had never seen before, and while he didn’t know what was wrong, it didn’t give him any right to talk to you like that. “Just get out… Get the fuck out!” You gasped out the demand, going light headed from the stress of it all.

“Gladly!” He shouted, throwing up his arms before yanking open the door and walking out. He always had to have the last word, and that in itself was the final straw, the breaking point for you. It was an awful idea, but your anger momentarily fueled you, pushing yourself up off the couch and grabbing one of the bags off the floor, beaming it at the door that he had just walked out of.

Sure, he had walked out, but he wasn’t actually planning on leaving. After a couple minutes he planned on going back in and shamefully apologizing for what he said. He was leaning against the front door when he heard the loud bang against it and a bunch of items falling to the floor, and he knew without a doubt that it had been one of the bags, it was the closest thing to you right now. What he didn’t know though, was the sound that followed after. A loud thud and glass shattering, and he knew for a fact that it came from inside the apartment, and he couldn’t seem to get inside fast enough.

From the sound of it, it just seemed like you had tripped over the coffee table and maybe knocked over one of the glasses that were sitting on it. Upon further inspection and actually seeing it, he could tell that it was way worse. The coffee table, which was glass as well, was now shattered completely underneath you, which in itself was scary considering how dangerous it was, but the scariest part was the fact that you weren’t moving, you weren’t making any sounds at all.

“Y/N!” He rushed over to your side, the sound of glass crunching beneath his feet as he got closer was stomach turning, knowing that a majority of it was beneath you. “Hey… Hey come on… Get up now… This isn’t funny…” He rushed out the words as he kneeled down beside you, hoping that you’d open your eyes and laugh at how worried he is right now and it would be the perfect get back for what he had just done… Although there was no way that you would have been able to plan for this to happen… No… Something was actually wrong. “Fuck… Come on, sweets… Y-You know I love you… S-So much… You’re scaring me real bad right now…” He rambled, his hands shaking as he tried to move you off the pile of glass, feeling the slight warmth against your back when he got his hands under you.

“Sh-Shoe… Box…” Your voice was weak as you wheezed out the word that only had him more dumbfounded. The hell did a shoebox have to do with it? Did you trip over one of his shoe boxes? “Under… Th-The bed…” You continued, your eyes opening momentarily, only for them to roll to the back of your head, your neck going limp once more as your breaths became even faster as more labored. The bedroom was so far away, and that meant that he’d have to leave you alone to get it… And even if it was just for a moment, he didn’t want to leave you like this.

“Shit… What… What do I do?” He whimpered, looking between your body that lay in his arms and the bedroom door that was cracked open. “I’ll… I’ll be right back… I’ll get it… I will…” He whispered, and he carefully laid you back down on the floor, feeling bad enough as it is, but leaving you there only made him feel worse. He didn’t even know that there was a shoebox under the bed, he had never seen it, and part of him thought that you were just hallucinating… But he still ran to the room, basically diving onto the floor and reaching underneath. Lo and behold, there was a box, one that he had never seen before, and when he opened it up, he saw a vast assortment of medications, a blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and the phone number for your doctor. “What… What the fuck?”

It wasn’t the right time for questioning things, not yet, and he ran back out into the living room with the box, lowering himself to the floor beside you. Your eyes were beginning to flutter once again beneath your lids, and then they slowly opened, looking up at him in a sort of daze. “Shoe… Box… Under the-”

“Under the bed… I got it…” He finished your sentence, pulling out the multiple bottles of medication and holding them up. “Wh-What do you need? Which… Which one?” Your hand was shaking and you could barely lift your arm up to point at the bottle, but he moved them closer and your pointer finger slid across one of them, and he hoped to god that you were paying attention, that you knew what you had picked because he didn’t know a damn thing about any of them.

His own hands were shaking as he popped off the lid of the bottle and poured one of the pills into the palm of his hand, grabbing one of the bottles of soda from out of the bag that was still on the floor and then gently lifted your head up. Your lips parted just enough for him to slip the pill into your mouth, and he ever so carefully brought the bottle of soda to your lips, tilting it so you’d get just enough to swallow the medicine without any trouble.

How long would it take to work though? Had he given you the right one? His nerves were absolutely shot right now, his mind was in a frenzy, and it felt like it took forever for you to finally seem stable enough to actually talk. “The cuff… Pen… Paper… Number…” You muttered, and he didn’t know what the hell you were talking about, but you seemed to know, and you seemed to have done it enough to be able to do these things on your own even when you were still partially out of it.

“How long…?” He whispered, and you quickly shushed him, your eyes shut as the hum of the blood pressure machine filled the room that was otherwise silent apart from your still shallow breaths. Once it had finished, you wrote the numbers on a tiny slip of paper and then slipped them back into the box.

“I’m okay… Gonna have to sweep this up…” You said as you looked around yourself, shaking your head as you slowly got to your feet, but you stumbled once again once you were on them, causing Jeongins panic to only worsen as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his eyes glossy as he stared at you and held you steady.

“No… We’re talking… We… We need to talk…” He stammered, moving you to the couch and sitting you down, standing in front of you so he could really see you, so you could see him. “Y-You hid this from me… I… I still don’t know what’s going on… I’m scared… I’m worried… I’m fucking traumatized!” Your head once again rolled back against the back cushion and he rushed to grab your hand, his own heart racing. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“This… This is why I hid it…” You mumbled, your eyes still shut as you spoke. “It’s too much for you… It’s too much for anyone… I didn’t want to put you through this…”

“What are you talking about?!” He screeched, and while he thought it had been devastating to know that there was something like this going on without his knowledge, he was even more devastated to know that you had purposely kept it from him because you thought he couldn’t handle it. “I’m your boyfriend! I want to know these things! I want to be able to help you! If it’s about you… If it’s for you… Nothing is too much.”

“Jeongin… I didn’t do it to hurt you… Or to upset you… I did it because I care… I care about you. I didn’t want you… Worrying about me… You wouldn’t be able to focus on work… You’d constantly be wondering if I’m… If I’m having another episode… I just… I didn’t want this to ruin things for you…” You were breathing heavily again, your fingers wrapping around your wrist as you silently mouthed numbers. Did you have to do this every day? He had never seen you do this, and there were many times he had days off and things weren’t this bad. “We should just… Break up… So you don’t-”

“What?! Absolutely fucking not!” He screamed, kneeling on the floor in front of you and grabbing your hands, waiting for you to look at him before speaking. “You think breaking up will help? You think just ending this will make me forget about everything? You think it’ll immediately change the way I feel about you? I fucking love you, Y/N! And you’re goddamn right I’m worried about you… I’m gonna worry about you every single day for the rest of my life whether you were sick or not because I care about you.” Your eyes shut once more, but now shiny tears danced along your cheeks before hanging onto your chin, refusing to fall. “I may be young… And I’m dumb as shit sometimes… But I’m not a fucking idiot, I’m not gonna let you go, I’m not… I love you too damn much… I’m gonna take care of you… I will… You’re gonna be stuck with me the rest of your life, and I hope that I’m lucky enough to be stuck with you for the rest of mine.”

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squoosheez · 6 months

Text

Lavender Haze

Peeta Mellark x Reader

summary: You wake up in the bed of none other than Peeta Mellark. Frantic that you’re gonna miss your train, you recall the events of the previous night.

setting: The last night of the victor’s tour. It’s the after party and you’re completely wasted, so Peeta takes you up to his room to get cleaned up.

pairing: Peeta Mellark x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, drunk sex/dub-con, p in v, reader’s an absolute menace

notes: i didn’t put too much effort into this but i hope it’s not horrible 😭 short n sweet ig

word count: 3.1k

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socials: ao3

You feel your head pound as you down your second Advil of the day. It’s quite evident now that you should not have gone to that after party. Another reason to support your claim is the fact you don’t know where the fuck you are.

Usually, you would’ve called yourself an Uber by now, but the pounding in your head was enough to make you stay just long enough to locate the nearest pain medication. You scan the room, trying to find any sign of where you may be. It’s definitely in the Capitol. Yesterday was the last day of the Victor's Tour, and the train doesn’t leave until.. well today. You feel panic start to set it.

The train. You completely forgot how important it was to know where you end up the morning of the after parties. The train. You spring up from the barstool and sprint back into the bedroom from whence you came.

Your heart pounds as you attempt to gather all your things. The tight, black, sequin dress you wore last night paired with some black stiletto heels. You don’t remember much, but you remember they hurt. You fumble around, reaching for your bag and not really bothering to change your clothes. That will definitely stir up your fans.

You move groggily around the room after you pick up all your belongings. As you start to make your way towards the door, you see the handle turn and hear a set of keys jingle on the other side. You take a step back as the door opens to reveal none other than Peeta Mellark.

You let out a sigh of relief as you run into his arms. He shoots you a confused look, but embraces you in his arms anyway. Before he can get a chance to speak, you drag him to the ground. He lands on top of you gracefully, giggling and laughing without knowing why.

“Oh, Peeta. I was so scared I was gonna be late, and I think I slept with a stranger last night.” You groan into his shoulders. Your words cause a piercing laugh to escape Peeta’s lips. You look up at him in confusion.

“It wasn’t a stranger,” he remarks. It all comes flooding back to you. You can’t tell whether to be relieved or panic even more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment as you think about the consequences of your own actions.

You gently slam your head against his marble countertops and make a loud noise that can only be described as a wail. Your dramatics are not making Peeta feel any better about the situation. He is sitting on the couch, watching the screen attentively while you rethink your entire life decisions.

Through all the blurred vision and distorted noise you recall happened last night, you finally start to remember what exactly had happened after the party.

It was a normal after party, except much more extravagant. It was the after party after you visited the presidential mansion. The party with the president was nothing less than over the top, but it still seemed very strict. You had to put on a good show and pretend like you were enjoying yourself the whole time, despite experiencing quite the opposite.

The after party was much more laid back. More drinking, less talking. You danced until your legs couldn’t hold you up, which ultimately led to Peeta carrying you up the stairs and to his bedroom. His bedroom?

He laid you on the bed and started to run you a bath. You squirmed around trying to decipher whose bed you were in. You heard the running water and decided it’d be nice to take a bath. That’s when you felt the vomit stirring up in your stomach. And in just a second, it’s out of your stomach and ruining Peeta’s brand new sheets.

He immediately rushed into the room and lifted you up, trying to keep you from completely coating yourself in puke. He sighed hard and had you sit on the toilet while he cleaned the mess you so generously made.

Alcohol poisoning was not unfamiliar to you, with all the parties in the Capitol, this was a normal occurrence. Peeta doesn’t enjoy cleaning up after you, but you’re his best friend, so he puts up with it. Though, you’re almost as bad as Haymitch at this point.

Once he’s finished stripping the bed and putting a set of fresh new sheets on it, he returns his attention towards you. You’re mumbling something barely audible and Peeta gives you a laugh in response. Due to your puking incident, he didn't want to put you in the bath first. He grabs the shower head off of the shower and ushers you into the shower.

You whined, thinking you were gonna get a bath. Before he gets the chance to ask you, you’re struggling to discard your clothes. Your shirt is stuck on your arm, and he just giggles at your useless attempt. His hands help to lift the shirt above your head, revealing your curvy figure and shimmery skin. You murmur something about staring and he gives you a forced laugh in return. He then softly asks you if you can remove your pants, in which you have no shame in doing. It makes his face grow red and his ears grow hot.

He turns on the water, and allows you to rinse yourself off at first. This quickly goes to shit when you try to spray him in the face. He wipes the water from his face, and discards himself off his sopping wet shirt.

You’re a giggling mess as Peeta hoses you down, your body barely being able to stay up against the wall of the shower. Once Peeta decides he’s gotten all the puke off, he escorts you towards the bath. Your body sinks in and the warm water feels so good on your skin.

Peeta reaches over to grab a clean plastic cup. He scoops up some water and instructs you to close your eyes. He pours the water over your head, wetting down your hair so he can wash it. He squirts a bit of shampoo onto his hand and rubs it gently into your scalp. He does the same with the conditioner on the ends of your hair. He takes the cup again and rinses the suds out of your hair. You look up at him every now and then, giving him a beautiful smile that always gives him butterflies.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says as he finishes rinsing the last of the soap out of your hair. You grab a bar of soap and begin to rub it over your body, but you get tired halfway through. You place the soap on the side of the bath closest to him, assuming he would take it and finish scrubbing you.

His breath hitches. He looks at you with a disappointed look on his face. “I can’t help you here. You can do it,” he encourages. Obviously, since you’re drunk, you take this statement as he doesn’t want to help you and wants to leave you here completely defenseless. Tears well up in your eyes and you choke on your tears. Small sniffles can be heard as Peeta immediately tries to comfort you.

He whispers reassuring words in your ear as you continue to cry. He decides against making you wash yourself and just helps you out of the bath. He grabs a towel and dries off your hair before wrapping it around your body. You shiver at the cold air hitting your wet skin, but you’ve stopped crying. So that’s a plus.

His hands guide you onto his bed, most of the guests have already left. The music volume has decreased greatly and only faint conversation can be heard. Peeta just hopes no one comes up here with you laying in his bed.

For some reason, you’re still wide awake. You wait to feel Peeta’s warmth climb into bed beside you to fall asleep, but he’s taking way too long for your liking. You throw your legs over the side of the bed and make your way over to the closet. Without even bothering to ask if he’s in there, you pull the door wide open to reveal Peeta’s almost naked body. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of boxers while he tries to pick out a pajama shirt.

Your cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of red. He quickly shuts the door back and throws the first shirt he sees over his head. When he opens the door again, you’re sitting in front of the closet with tears running down your face. He immediately crouches down to be on your level. He wipes a tear from your cheek and speaks softly. “Hey, It’s okay. You wanna head to bed?”

You nod and let him pick you up and carry you onto the bed, placing you there gently. You feel your body relax as he climbs into the bed next to you. He allows you to lay your head on his shoulder as he turns the TV on. He watches as you drift off into a soft sleep.

Later in the night, Peeta awakes to find you moving around in your sleep. Tossing and turning, mumbling words that he can’t quite make out. It’s not until he hears you breathe out his name that he comprehends what’s happening. He curses under his breath.

Your body is facing him, the towel slipping off your figure as you continue to squirm around. He debates waking you up or just letting you enjoy your dream. He takes a deep breath in, feeling his own arousal building in the pit of the stomach. It feels so wrong to watch you like this, so he wakes you up.

You hear his voice whisper gently and your eyes flutter open. You let out a whimper of disappointment when you realize your dream is finished. The disappointment slowly fades away at the sight of Peeta. You smile and place a messy kiss directly on his lips. His eyes widen at the action.

He lets the kiss linger before breaking it gently. Your eyes are fixated on his lips and his biceps. You let out an involuntary whimper in the absence of his lips. All you can manage to say is name.

Peeta groans against the crook in your neck. His breath is warm against your cold skin and it sends shivers down your spine. You can still feel the lingering effects of intoxication as his hands travel up and down your body. You allow his eyes and hands to explore every inch of your body he can as you indulge in the sensation.

“Peeta,” you whisper softly. His eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Yeah?” He says quietly. You bite your lip as you feel your arousal swelling in your lower stomach, heat radiating from in between your legs.

“Touch me,” your voice shakes as you look up at him with pleading eyes. His expression is tense. He wants it so bad, but it feels wrong. He wants you to want him when you're sober. He wishes you would ask him these things when you’re not drunk.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Almost every time you get drunk Peeta cleans you up and holds you close and you try to get in his pants. Every time, he tells you no. Usually you take it pretty well, but for some reason you seem extra emotional today. He fears what may happen if he denies your request.

It’s an inner conflict for a moment before you decide to take matters into your own hands. Your hands travel down from his chest to the band of his boxers. He bites his lip as your body moves in closer. The towel is slowly slipping off your frame and it’s much different from how you looked when he was bathing you.

There’s a hunger in your eyes. Dark and cold. Your lips connect again and you can still taste the traces of tequila in his mouth, he’s far less drunk than you are, but the taste makes you long for more. You completely discard yourself off the towel. You have zero intentions of dragging this out.

You flip around, landing on top of him. Your hips straddling his thighs like they were made for him to be in between them. He’s completely taken aback by your movements, and he doesn’t even try to stop you anymore. You grind your hips against the growing bulge in his boxers, soaking them with your dripping arousal.

Peeta mumbles curses every now and then while you continue to grind relentlessly into him. You pull him in for once last sloppy kiss before he takes matters into his own hands. He pulled you towards him, immediately suctioning one of your nipples into his mouth. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. You let out a loud gasp as his hand roams freely on your body. They make their way to your throbbing clit, giving it the long awaited attention it deserves. Your back arches and you let out another loud moan at the action.

“Fuck me, Peeta.” Your words slur together, reminding him you’re still intoxicated. He buries the shame of his desires deep down and gives you a small smirk.

His hands travel down towards your ass, giving it a hard slap (that definitely left a mark). Your chest heaves as his hands squeeze and grip at your ass, and all you can think about is taking him so deep.

“Of course, baby.” He responds, his breath shaky and far from stable. You scoot up to give him room to slip off his underwear. He pulls them down to his ankles and you can feel his erection spring up to hit your ass. You smile as you breathe out another soft moan.

You move back to your previous position, his cock hitting your stomach with every small movement. You give him a couple strokes, watching as his expression grows more needy. Your thumb traces over his slit, earning a lewd whimper from Peeta’s throat. You lean over placing yet another kiss on his neck, sucking a dark hickey on his pale skin.

You position him near your entrance, sliding his cock back and forth between your folds, teasing him ever so slightly. He lets out a hiss as you finally sink yourself down on him. Your back arches as his cock fills you to the brim, legs shaking while you try to hold yourself up.

The room is filled with ah’s and mm’s as you pick yourself up and slam yourself back down onto him. He hits your g-spot, but only softly with very little effort. His hands guide your hips in a circular motion. He grits his teeth as you let out a moan that can only be described and slutty when he slams straight into your sweet spot. Tears well up in your eyes as your hand moves to circle your swollen clit.

Peeta gives your ass another slap, causing a string of profanities to slur out of your mouth. Your whole body feels like it’s floating. The pleasure is unimaginable. His sweaty blonde hair sticks to his forehead and you watch as he fucks up into you, letting small groans escape his lips occasionally. “You’re so tight,” Peeta hisses.

Your moans echo throughout the room, flooding Peeta’s head with the sounds of your pleasure. He feels the bubbling in his stomach grow stronger when he feels your walls clench around him. He curses under his breath and continues to use his hands to force you down on him.

Tears, drool, and sweat drip down your face, creating a mixture that cannot taste good. Peeta doesn’t mind. He pulls you down and connects your lips in a sloppy, wet, unorganized kiss. You don’t know how he manages to do it. He drives you crazy with every movement and you cannot get enough of it.

He continues to pound into you, your knees lock and you let him fuck you as hard as he can. A few shrill moans leave his throat as his climax approaches rapidly. You feel the same, your moans becoming much more erratic and louder. His thrusts become sloppy and less careful. He speeds up and your back arches as you feel his cock pulsate inside you.

“Peeta- I’m gonna, fuck—” you barely manage to give him a warning before your orgasm takes over. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you swear you see stars. Peeta’s face is concentrated, beads of sweat pouring down his chin, needy moans escaping from behind his lips.

He can feel his own orgasm building as you grab onto his biceps for support. It’s all too much and more tears stream down your face as the overstimulation sets in. You feel his body tense up and he pulls out as fast as you’ve seen any guy pull out. He gives himself a few fast strokes before cumming all over your tits. “Jesus.”

Peeta almost collapses on top of you, stopping himself before he accidentally crushes you. He locks your lips in a gentle kiss this time, not as messy or needy as before. He gives your nose and forehead a matching kiss as well. He brushes your hair behind your ears and you shoot him a ridiculous smile. The last thing you wanna do right now is move. You close your eyes as Peeta walks over to the bathroom. You hear the sink running and can only assume he’s wetting down a rag.

You’re right, of course. He places the rag in between your breasts, wiping away any of the cum residue he left there before placing another kiss right in between them. You giggle softly and pull him down towards you.

Your cheeks flush read at the sight of a completely fucked out Peeta Mellark. You feel a little proud of yourself as he swoops in for one last kiss before pulling you closer. You fall asleep knowing you’re in the arms of the man you feel most safe with.

That’s when you’re snapped back into reality. Peeta rushing around the room frantically trying to gather all his things and Peeta calling to alert the two of you the train’s arriving in twenty minutes. Your face is hot and you’re clearly embarrassed at the acts of your drunk self, but Peeta just seems to try to ignore them.

You try to regain control of your thoughts when Peeta breaks the silence. “Everything alright?” His voice is sincere and coarse. Just like it was that night.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

#peeta mellark #peeta x reader #peeta smut #peeta mellark smut #peeta x y/n #alternate universe #you’re besties #lavender haze #wet dream #p in v

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racinggirl · 4 months

Note

first of all, congrats on graduating!! i was thinking about a childhood best friends to lovers charles x reader blurb where they both (finally) find out they have a crush on each other …

y/n likes charles, it’s obvious to everyone on the grid except him. he likes her too (but y/n’s oblivious as well), and he always fights for her attention (though he doesn’t need to, it’s always on him anyway). the timing’s just unfortunate, every time charles looks at her it seems like she’s laughing and smiling and generally being affectionate with someone that isn’t him!! what he doesn’t know is that a majority of the time she’s being teased for her crush and laughing bashfully while telling the other driver to stop - “he’s right over there! he could hear you!” - but he’s never close enough to hear :( it all comes to a peak when he finally does hear them!! “so, when will you tell him that you’ve been in love for years and years and-?” daniel says, obviously being dramatic, but charles hears and masks his broken heart with curiosity. “oh? y/n has a crush?” he questions, y/n denies it (absolutely mortified that he overheard), and daniel finallly screws them both over: “you both like each other! y/n likes you, and charles likes you!” he points to each of them, walking away once he’s done, leaving a blushing charles and a blushing y/n <3 you can decide who confesses first!!

this was a whole bunch of word vomit and turned out way longer than expected, feel no pressure to get it out quickly if you decide to pick it up!! have a good day or night <3

❤️ If only they knew...

Having a crush on someone close to you is often a challenge, especially when you do not want them to find out before knowing if the feelings were mutual. Having a crush on your best friend is even worse because there’s a lot at stake.

Monaco, the place to be for both you and Charles. However, this time it was the place to be for a lot more people than just the two of you. It was race week here in this beautiful country, meaning that the usual 40 thousand people that were present here had now drastically increased just for the weekend. Just to see them race.

Them, and him. Charles Leclerc. He had been your friend for as long as you could remember. People would often assume you and him were a couple, referring to you as a WAG. You weren’t, though, even when you wished you were.

‘’Y/N!’’ You heard Lando’s voice in your right ear. Ever since he moved to Monaco a few years ago, you and he became good friends as well. Aside from spending time together, you knew he would be able to keep a secret you couldn’t hold to yourself anymore.

You glanced over at the Brit dressed in his papaya team polo and shot him a smile. ‘’Norris.’’ You felt his arm wrapping around your shoulder as the two of you made your way towards the exit of the paddock.

Another good thing about Monaco is the fact that you’ll be able to sleep at home instead of a hotel, just like many other drivers. ‘’Charles was looking at you earlier today.’’ He smirked, slowly removing his hand from your shoulder and he shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. ‘’He’s always looking at you, you know.’’ He teased and you felt your cheeks becoming nearly as red as the new SF-24.

‘’Stop it! He’s right over there! He could hear you, idiot!’’ You murmured, your hand on his chest to give him a gentle push.

Charles was standing a few meters away from where you were. He was waiting near his car, knowing he’d take you back to your place as you also arrived with him here this morning. He saw your interactions with the McLaren driver, and he could immediately feel this burning sensation in his stomach. Most call it jealousy.

Lando looked over at the Ferrari driver and raised his hand, giving him a friendly wave before he patted your back slightly. ‘’See you tomorrow, Y/N.’’ He smirked before walking off to his scooter.

‘’Hey.’’ Charles smiled at you, opening the door for you so you could easily enter his Ferrari. ‘’Thank you.’’ You blushed, taking a seat once he let you. He always did these small things, being the gentleman he is. Opening doors for you, ordering food whenever you were too busy with school, delivering flowers for your birthday, asking you about your schoolwork, even walking with you to get groceries since he knew you hated going on your own. He was perfect in every way possible, if only you could see he was trying to be perfect for you.

‘’So, when will you tell him that you have a crush on him?’’ Daniel had been teasing you about your crush on Charles. Lando never told him, at least that’s what he swore.

Earlier that day

‘’I didn’t tell him!’’ Lando exclaimed, his hands defensively up in the air as he looked at you. ‘’I know you wanted to keep it a secret, I’m not one to break that promise.’’ He explained.

Daniel was looking at your interactions with a smile on his face. He asked you how Charles and you were doing, commenting on the fact you were wearing matching shoes – the ones Charles got you for your birthday – and asking you when your first date would be.

‘’He didn’t tell me, Y/N.’’ He chuckled. ‘’It’s obvious, the way you look at him, the way you laugh at his jokes, when most of the time they aren’t even that funny. Come on, everybody can see!’’ He laughs, watching your cheeks turn to a bright shade of red. ‘’Even just talking about him turns you into a tomato.’’ He smiled and wrapped his arm around you. You had always been good friends with most of the grid, especially since you lived in Monaco, and most of Charles’ co-workers moved here as well.

Present

‘’So, when will you tell him that you’ve been in love for years and years and-?’’

‘’Oh? Y/N has a crush?’’

Fuck.

Charles.

He had been watching you for a few seconds, mostly the seconds that Daniel wrapped his arm around you, the same way Lando did yesterday. He just wanted to be that person to you, he wanted to be the guy that made you smile the way his friends did to you, or make you giggle. If only he knew…

‘’No, I don’t.’’ You quickly exclaimed, nudging Daniel’s side which caused him to let go of you. ‘’I don’t have a crush. They are just trolling.’’ You smiled, trying your hardest to hide the blush on your cheeks when you saw Charles looking directly into your eyes.

Monza, the crowd was filled with Tifosi, the sky was red because of all the flares people light up, especially after Charles crossed the finish line first. He won, he won in Monza, and the people were going crazy.

‘’You won!’’ You laughed; your arms wrapped around his neck as you gave him the biggest hug possible. ‘’You’re incredible!’’ You smiled, kissing his cheek which gave the both of you intense butterflies, but neither of you were aware. You both thought you were the only one feeling that way.

‘’Great race, mate!’’ Daniel patted Charles’ back after he watched the two of you talk for a while. ‘’Thanks, you weren’t bad yourself.’’ Your best friend replied, receiving a chuckle from the Australian driver.

‘’Why don’t you two just kiss?’’ He then bluntly spoke, causing your eyes to widen, your cheeks to burn extremely hot, Charles to be confused and his eyes following Daniel’s who had been looking at you with a smirk.

‘’Come on guys, you’re not telling me you aren’t aware of the fact you’re both madly in love with each other. Charles, you like Y/N, Y/N, you like Charles, seal the deal and kiss already!’’ He laughed and with that he walked away, leaving the two of you stunned at what just happened.

‘’I…’’ ‘’Ehm…’’ The both of you tried to say something that would make sense, but with your cheeks as red as the sky, and your lips glued together, you were unable to.

His PR manager soon stepped in, watching his phone before looking at the driver. ‘’Charles, interviews, come on, let’s go.’’

‘’You like me?’’ You carefully asked the moment you were seated in his car. The interviews had finished, as well as the post-race press conference. You had decided to wait for him even though the two of you decided you’d go to the hotel with his team as the interviews would take a long time here in Monza.

He chuckled, grabbing the steering wheel and rubbing his thumbs on the leather of it. ‘’I thought it was obvious.’’ He smiled softly, picking on some threads of the wheel.

‘’I mean, I guess it was, but not to me.’’ You replied, not keeping your eyes away from him. You were still in the parking lot of the hotel. Neither of you spoke on your way back to the hotel. He didn’t even question why you waited for him instead of going back with his team.

‘’Who knew?’’ He asked. ‘’Who knew you had feelings for, me.’’ He whispered the last word almost inaudible, probably because it felt weird to him that he could finally say it out aloud. ‘’Almost everyone, I guess.’’ You blushed, playing with the fabric of your shirt.

‘’Everyone but me.’’ He smiled, now turning to face you. His hand gently moved to take a hold of yours, and this time it felt different. It was even worse than it used to be. Your heart was beating out of your chest because you knew the truth now. You knew the two of you had feelings for one another, and when two people like each other, it won’t take long before the next step would have been made.

You closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your lips, his warm, minty breath tickled your lips gently. ‘’May I?’’ He whispered, his left hand leaning up to cup your cheek. You didn’t nod but replied by pressing your lips on his.

Fireworks exploded in your stomach, and for the first time, you knew the same happened to him. Because he kissed you back, somehow you could feel all those years of unspoken feelings into this one single kiss. It was magical, your stomach couldn’t stop with creating more and more butterflies, and you never wanted this to end.

‘’You have no idea how long I’ve waited to be able to do that.’’ He whispers against your lips, causing the corners of your mouth to point upwards into a smile.

‘’My god… if only we knew.’’

a/n: thank you soooo much for this request! I've suddenly had some inspiration and went straight to writing it. I believe I've written it down in less than an hour ^^ Anyways, I hope you like it, I've tried to incorporate most of the things you requested, however I slightly changed the ending a little to make it more spicy. Don't forget to keep sending in requests for my graduation reqs! You were the only request that came through, so I'll probably keep this going for let's say a week or so. I'll close the reqs for this somewhere next week. So if you have some ideas and want me to write them this week, send them in :)

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