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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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The Grey Zone 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: We're back

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Your bedroom door swings open, the handle knocking against the short shelf of figures behind it. You clutch the black skirt in your hands and face your mother as she gives you that look. The one dripping in disappointment and loathing. She’s hungover, you can tell by how she squints.

“Are you not ready yet?” She sneers, a Louis bag dangling from her elbow.

“Almost,” you assure her, rolling your tongue nervously, “mom, are you sure I should come? Work isn’t very happy about the time off and–”

“How dare you,” she accuses, flinching at the spark of her own temper, bringing her manicure to her temple, “Lloyd has been very nice in inviting us all to the lake house and I will not have you spoil it with your attitude.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I just thought…”

“Stop thinking,” she points at you with a long shellacked nail, “you’ll ruin everything.”

You snap your mouth shut. For her, this is another vacation. You know her plans don’t extend past wine and naps in the sun. And it is supposed to be a ‘family trip’. If you don’t go, your father might just tell her to stay behind too. It’s not that she wants you to go, but she wants to be sure she gets to go.

“I’ll be ready in like ten,” you spin back to your bed and tuck the skirt into your duffle.

“Make it five,” she huffs with the click of her tongue.

She prances off and you shake your head at the stacks of clothes in front of you. You cut it down as you roll up each piece to fit into your bag. You don’t need much. You shove your chest of makeup at the end and tuck your toiletry pouch inside.

You grab your leather knapsack and slide your laptop inside with your textbooks. You wonder if you’ll even have a signal all the way up north. If not, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. Oh well, maybe it will be nice to get away. Or maybe you’ll be in hell, trapped in an isolated cabin with your own parents.

And him.

You shove a few novels in along with your computer and zip it up. You drag your stuff towards the door and grab your jacket from the clothes rack against the far wall. The long black trench goes well over your wide-leg curtain paints and razor back halter. You pop on a wide brimmed black hat and your favourite pair of sunglasses; black lenses framed with silver.

You grab your bags and haul them out of your room, making the slow and perilous descent to the first floor. You leave your bags right behind your mother’s pile of matching Louis luggage and wiggle your feet into your clunky Mary Janes.

Your mother emerges with a sunhat and a pair of large square framed sunglasses. She winks at you as she tucks a flask into her purse. You say nothing and cross your legs, perching on the bench impatiently.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” She harrumphs.

“Yeah?” You look down.

“You don’t have anything… lighter? It’s sunny out.”

You shrug, “we’ll just be in the car.”

You stare at her bags. How much does she need to bring? The physics of packing all of it into the SUV worries you. You fully expect to be crammed in next to her bandouliere bag.

“Constance!” Your father’s voice booms as his steps pound onto the porch. You look at the screen door as he rips it open, “well,” he stops short inside, “I told you to start bringing your shit out.”

“I told you, my shoulder,” your mother pouts, “yell at your daughter, she’s the one sitting around.”

Your father huffs and grabs her largest bag, pointing at you then the rest of her things, “well, let’s get this going. I don’t wanna be driving past midnight.”

You get up and grab two of the lighter bags. You roll your eyes behind your lenses, knowing you won’t be caught. You follow your father out the front door, the weight of your mother’s excess chafing your fingers. What did she pack?

The hatch door of the SUV is already open. Your father’s things are neatly placed against the wall of the trunk. He hikes up your mother’s suitcase in the other side and it takes up much of the remaining space. You place the two in hand on top and ponder the last three. It’s like a very unfortunate game of Tetris.

“Go,” your father snaps his fingers, “get the rest.”

You don’t argue. As you come up on the porch, your mother emerges with a bright pink travel tumbler in hand, slurping on the straw as your left to wonder at the contents. You dip inside and retrieve her smallest bags; a perfect circular valise and two more oblong ones.

You hand them off to your father and he grumbles under his breath as he tries to fit them into the hatch. You return to the house to get your own bags. You won’t mind sitting with your own things.

The backseat offers little hope as you find a large cooler taking up more than half of its length and fishing rods across the floor. So, where exactly are you supposed to sit?

As you stare, perplexed by the puzzle of your own belonging, a horn toots and a car rolls up the driveway, coming just short of your father as he turns to stare down the Bentley. You keep your knapsack on your shoulder and your bag clutched tight.

You face Mr. Hansen as he climbs out of his car, leaning on the door as he looks over it at your dad, “Ray Ray, ready to go?”

“Just loading up,” your father answers.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Hansen snorts, “you know you’re not moving in for good, right?”

“Connie’s shit,” your father snarls.

Hansen shuts his car door as he strides up the tarmac. His focus shifts as he sees you standing listless. He flicks his sunglasses up and gives a crooked smirk.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets, “uh, Ray,” he stops, just a few inches from you, pivoting towards the back of the SUV, “where exactly is the baby girl supposed to fit? You strapping her to the roof?”

“She’ll squeeze in,” you father dimisses.

“For eight hours?” Hansen’s fingers tickle along the back of your arm and he squeezes just above his elbow, “I got lots of room.”

“I don’t care. Take her, then,” your father barks, “I got Lonny bringing up supplies, I don’t needa worry about all that.”

“Hear that, starbright, go toss your things in mine,” Hansen twirls his keyring and holds it out to you, “lots of legroom.”

“Um, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue,” your father slams the hatch door. “He’s right, we don’t got the space.”

You could suggest your mother leaves a few things behind but you know that will only end the same. You take Hansen’s keys and thank him. He grins and steps back, not much, just enough for you to pass, just close enough for you to brush against him.

You go down the drive, surprised to find yourself trailed by another set of steps. You glance over your shoulder as Hansen circles around you, “bottom button, sunny.”

You hit the fob and the trunk pops open. He seizes your bag before you can react and puts it in next to his. You slip your knapsack down your arm and he just as quickly has it in hand.

“Couldn’t imagine eight hours in a car with those two,” he says quietly, “you’re welcome.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

You cross your arms and step back as he closes the trunk. He keeps his hand on the sleek pant and eyes you up and down. He tilts his head and his tongue pokes out.

“You feel like driving,” he asks, “I don’t mind.” He pats the butt of the car, “she handles well.”

“Um, it’s okay…”

“Come on, you get the first hour and we can switch at the rest stop,” he goads, “I woke up fuckshit early.”

“Alright, I guess,” you keep the keys in your hand and go to step around him.

“Wait, wait,” he blocks your path, “one more thing.”

“Alright?” You frown.

“I didn’t say…” he reaches to tap the brim of your hat, “you look fucking good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You’re unused to compliments and a simple thank you would do but something about his tone has you tongue-tied. You wipe away your chagrin and try to smile. Your lips just quiver and fall straight.

“Right, let’s stop dragging ass,” he spins and struts up the driveway, “Ray,” he calls to your dad, “here’s the spare key. In case you get ahead of us.”

You chew your lip and slowly walk along the side of the car. You unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. You reticently get in and take off your hat, twisting to throw it in the backseat. You turn straight and adjust the seat and steering wheel. It’s a really nice car.

The passenger door opens and Lloyd drops in, sliding the seat all the way back as he stretches his legs. You leave the keys in the cupholder and push the ignition. The engine rolls as you take in the breadth of controls. Nothing too unusual.

“What’s that shade of lipstick called?” Lloyd leans on the armrest of his seat, “how many shades of black can they sell?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you fix the mirror.

“Like those glasses. Where’d you get them?”

“Amazon,” you answer as you shift into reverse, the camera showing on the console screen. You grip the wheel and slowly back out.

“Now, don’t be afraid to put that foot down once we hit the highway,” he says, “she’s got a lot of power. She can handle it.”

“Mhmm,” you stop at the end of the driveway and look both ways down the street. “Got it.”

🖤

As promised, you trade places with Lloyd after the first hour. He’s a bit more heavy-footed and you find yourself with your hand on the door as you brace yourself with his careless and aggressive passing. You’re a cautious driver and his style has you almost dizzy. You’re not bold enough to tell him to slow down.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asks, “no squabbling middle-aged assholes to listen to.”

“Sure,” you grasp the seat belt as you keep a wary gaze through the windshield.

“Hopefully it’s only more of this, baby,” he continues, “my house, my rules. You don’t worry about mommy and daddy.”

You nod and hold back a squeak as he swoops in front of another car. You wish you had kept driving. You hate this.

“I’ll be working on my tan as daddy does all the hard work,” he scoffs, “been a long year.”

You listen, almost curious as he’s rarely anything close to transparent. You would never imagine him having a bad day. He seems to carry it with that no fucks given strut. He swerves again and you can’t help but elicit a rather pathetic noise.

“Mr. Hansen, can you… slow down a little?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away but he does as you request. “I get it, you wanna enjoy our time together,” he snickers.

“Uh, well, I get a bit carsick,” you utter.

“Ah,” he accepts with an air of disappointment, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me Lloyd? This Mr. Hansen business makes me feel old as shit. I’m not, you know, I got all my faculties,” he lets out a small chuckle, “just so you know.”

“Right, Lloyd, sorry,” you say, “dad just… you’re his friend so he–”

“Yeah, real tight ass but damn good at what he does. The biggest fuckers always are,” he scoffs.

“I guess…”

“So, those girls, they bug you again?” He keeps the same pace in conversation as he does driving. You’re disoriented by the flip.

“Haven’t seen them, no…”

“You know, they’re just jealous,” he says, “I know girls like that. I’ve f– met a lot. They’re not worth it.” He shakes his head and laughs, “hate to say it, but your mom is one of those. Never a nice thing to say about anyone but herself.”

You lean into the seat and bend your arms in front of your stomach. You know that. Deep down, you know your family is imperfect, you just didn’t realise how obvious it is.

“You’re young. Shit’s tough when you’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“You got Spotify or something?” He asks abruptly, once more jarring you. “Got bluetooth in here. May as well put something on, we got time.”

“Right, uh, I could…” you dig your phone out as he pushes buttons on the steering wheel with his thumb. The screen flashes with the pairing symbol.

You find the right connection and scroll through your playlists. You don’t know if he’ll like any of those. Maybe you could find something generic.

“What do you like?” You ask.

He answers with a chortle, “nah, you put something on. I wanna hear your music.”

“Well, it’s a bit… of an acquired taste.”

“My car, my rules, put your music on,” he demands.

You resign and tap shuffle on your weekly mix. Joy Division drones from the random selection and you black out the screen. You’re comforted by the familiar tones.

“Holy fuck,” Lloyd says, “this is old shit. Before my time, even.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “it’s just a shuffle–”

“Not complaining,” he smirks, “glad I actually know this one.”

You exhale and try to relax. It’s going to be a long ride and you're thankful he opened that door. You don’t know how much longer you could handle his chaotic conversation. Only six hours or so, you can make it if you have music.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the grey zone #the gray man

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anna-hawk · 10 days

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Lick it up, Baby

Fratt x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Frank play with Matt's chest

Explicit 🔞 // WC: 1k

Tags and Warnings: smut, threesome, nipple play, overstimulation, come play, good crying

A/N: Inspired by this post by @itwasthereaminuteago. I was supposed to continue working on the werewolf Fratt fic but I saw that in my WIPs and was hit by sudden inspiration. It's short but pretty much what we all talked about 😜

Damn, but Matt sure made a pretty sight when he was about ready to cry from too much pleasure.

He’d come home from a long day in court and had needed for you and Frank to take him apart. Never able to refuse him anything, you took him to the bedroom instantly. The only demand you two had had was for Matt to keep his hands to himself and at his sides as you’d take him to the brink again and again, while only ever touching his chest. Matt had been half hard before, but at that request, he’d been fully hard in the following second, his breath catching in his throat.

Half an hour later, Matt was lying in the center of the bed, with you on one side, while Frank was leaning over him from the other as you turned him into an incoherent puddle of pleasure. His chest was heaving as he breathed harshly, a long whine or a moan slipping through his parted lips every few seconds.

“Please,” he whispered brokenly, his fingers fisting into the soft bedsheets at his sides, where he’d obediently kept them.

You smiled softly as he gasped again when Frank nipped at one of his nipples with slightly more force. Leaning down as well, you did the opposite of what Frank had done and, instead, brushed long strokes of your tongue over the other nipple, then circled it with the tip of your tongue. This time, Matt moaned, and his hips jerked upward, drawing your attention to Matt’s cock. It had been leaking steadily for the longest time, creating a shining puddle of pre-come on his lower stomach, droplets caught in the happy trail.

“Think he’s almost there,” you said lightly, after giving Matt’s nipple a harder suck, which had him jerking his chest up this time.

“Mhm,” Frank confirmed with satisfaction, swirling two fingers in the liquid before bringing it to your lips.

Staring Frank in the eye, you sucked the fingers clean and hummed around them.

“Hear that, Red?” Frank husked, as he leaned over Matt and ran his tongue over Matt’s stubble covered jaw. “Hear how good you taste?”

Matt whimpered as Frank flicked the nipple on his side before he ran his fingers down Matt’s body again to gather more of the pre-come.

“Here, open up.”

Matt didn’t even hesitate for a second as he opened his mouth to let Frank press two fingers onto his tongue. The sight of Matt sucking Frank’s fingers off had you groaning and returning your attention to Matt’s nipple, sucking on it with more intensity. You chuckled mischievously as Matt’s back arched, and he moaned long and brokenly around Frank’s fingers. Frank cursed at the way Matt drooled over his fingers, and fucked them deeper into Matt’s mouth for a few thrusts. Before long, he removed them and tilted his head down until he could take Matt’s nipple into his mouth again as well. With the fingers now gone, Matt cried out loudly as you and Frank licked and sucked and bit at his chest. His whole body went rigid as he gripped the sheets tightly, and he finally came with a long and agonized yell of pleasure. Come spurted all over his belly and flew high enough to land between his chest as well as on your neck and Frank’s jaw. Raising your head to find Frank grinning at you in satisfaction, you smirked right back as you observed your handiwork. Both of Matt’s nipples were now rosy and puffy, red bite marks and love bites coming into contrast with the pearly white liquid of Matt’s release coating several spots on his chest.

“So pretty,” you gushed, rubbing a thumb over one sensitive nipple that had Matt gasping sharply and twitching.

“Yeah, fuckin’ pretty is right,” Frank concurred, emulating your gesture as he kissed Matt’s panting mouth briefly and grinned at Matt’s new moan.

Catching the sight of Matt’s come on Frank’s jaw, you leaned over Matt and licked a broad stripe over Frank’s skin. Frank caught your eye as you moved back with a grin as you licked your lips. Kissing him quickly, you leaned down lower and began running your tongue over all the places Matt had come over.

“That’s right, lick it up, baby, lick it all up,” Frank rumbled, stroking a hand down your nape and shushing Matt as the latter moaned and twitched away from your exploring tongue.

As you worked, Frank curled his fingers in Matt’s hair and kissed him deeply, catching the sounds of pleasure and pain as Frank pulled and tweaked Matt’s abused nipples. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt’s softening cock twitching, while a little pulse of come drooled out of the tip. Moaning in appreciation, you slid your lips around it and suckled on it to gather any remaining traces. This time, despite Frank’s mouth covering his, Matt still managed to utter a short cry as his hands flew to your hair and Frank’s elbow.

“Shh, shh. Just cleanin’ you up, Red,” Frank explained softly, and you noticed with a curl of heat in your spine that Matt was crying into Frank’s kisses.

Making your way up as you removed the last drops from Matt’s trembling chest, you moved until you were level with your two lovers. With a glance at Frank, you tilted Matt’s face towards yours and took his mouth into a deep kiss. Matt moaned and thrust his tongue against yours as you slid the come you had gathered on his skin into his mouth. A second later, he was keening deep in his throat as Frank sucked on one nipple again. He trembled and moaned against you, his pelvis moving up and down, while new tears of overstimulation ran down the side of his face. Pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, you licked the tears away as well.

“So good for us, Matt. So, so good,” you breathed, as you watched Frank staring up at the two of you with a small smile.

Frank instantly slid up Matt’s body, as you turned Matt’s head towards him by the hair in a clear demand for him to kiss Frank now. Curling his fingers over Matt’s waist, Frank pulled him into another fierce kiss, taking his share of Matt’s release with a growl of hunger.

You hummed pleasantly as you watched Frank devour Matt’s willing mouth, and propped your head up on an elbow. You would never tire of watching your men like this.

#fratt #fratt x reader #frank x matt x reader #frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock #the punisher #daredevil #frank castle fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #reader insert #gender neutral reader #fratt smut

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)

This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.

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The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.

“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.

“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”

Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.

“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.

“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”

Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”

A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.

At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.

Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.

He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”

But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.

Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.

Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.

Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.

Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”

“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”

Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.

Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.

“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.

Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.

“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”

“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”

“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”

Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”

“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!

“’Course I will, Alfie.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.

I’m here-notice me-I love you.

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?

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As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!

Next Part

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management #alfred pennyworth #i reread everything ive written today for the first time in a week or two #and theres some scenes i cant wait to share with others #it'll be fun #for danny at least #the bats not so much

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 1 month

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Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.

“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.

“Back where, Rem?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date??

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?”

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #xmen #x men the animated series #x men 97 #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit xmen #light angst #in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots #but we love them anyway #tw drinking

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buddieswhvre · 2 months

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I've been thinking about Madney's wedding and I just can't stop imagining Buck and Eddie as Mónica and Chandler from friends. Just hear me out, I know the Buckley parents are trying their best but what if they still let out remarks like 'this will be the only wedding we're attending' or 'we're so happy to see Maddie get happily married, this might be the one for a LONG time'

And Buck knows that he shouldn't pay attention to their parents remarks but he also agrees with what they are saying. It has been weeks since Natalia and he broke up and he's almost as lost as he was after the lightning strike. He still tries his best to not let his parent's remarks get to him and fully enjoy his sister's wedding. He's not sure how much he succeeded though. Now imagine,

Eddie: So you're not upset about what your parents said, right?

Buck: Wouldn't you be? I mean they weren't exactly wrong.

Eddie: Hey, I know it's a very emotional time for you and you've had a lot of drinks but you need to let that go. I mean you were the most beautiful man in the room tonight.

Buck: Really?

Eddie: Are you kidding? You're the most beautiful man in most rooms-

And then they kiss now also imagine the morning after where Chimney is excited and running in Eddie's room about how he's going to get married today and once he leaves, Buck's like 'Do you think he saw I was here?'

Now ofc there will be angst on how are oblivious idiots would be sure that this is just fwb for them yk a friend helping another friend and it takes a lot of miscommunication and finally communication to know that they really do love each other.

(I know I should stop with my ideas considering exams and my wips but I can't help it lol)

Maybe I can write this one for didn't know they were dating prompt of buddie week where Buck is clear this was a one time thing and Eddie is sure that ofc Buck knows that I like him so much.

#buck and eddie #buck x eddie #911 abc #buddie #eddie diaz #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 fandom #buddie fanfic #buddie wip #buddie week 2024 #aka me projecting buddie in every series i find #angst with a happy ending #miscommunication #evan buck buckley

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!minho. sick!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. angst galore. reader is sick. minho is a soft and doting bf. reader has a fainting scare/high temp/migraine. slight possessive behavior from minho (but in a cute and soft way, i promise!!). pet names (affectionately). cuteness overload.

word count: 8.3k

summary: it's the dead of winter when you suddenly come down with a bad case of the flu. and your doting boyfriend minho is more than happy and willing to help you through the pain.

a/n: yes, i am fully on the brainwashing and brainrotting train that is writing minho out to be a soft, caring bf. don't come for me, it's one of the only pleasures in my life rn!! i wrote this in one sitting (and yes, most of the content in here is based off of my own experience with the flu this past year), so it might be horrible or really amazing. lmk what ya'll think and if you'd like more of this content from me! :))

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The first symptom of the flu to come upon you was a sore throat. It happened just after you and Minho had finished eating dinner - since it was a Wednesday night, Chinese takeout had been on the menu.

You were laying in bed, already cozied up in your pajamas and snuggled under the thick coverlets, reading one of the winter-themed books that you had recently checked out at your local library. When, all of a sudden, your throat started to feel scratchy. Every few minutes, you kept reaching over to your nightstand table to take a sip from the glass of water that you always kept there.

Just then Minho came out of the master bedroom’s adjoining bathroom, clad in the black sweatpants that he always wore to bed. He was shirtless since his hot-blooded self could never fall asleep if he had too many clothes on. You got a clear view of his chiseled chest muscles and sinewy biceps as he padded over to you with his slippers on and gave your forehead a gentle kiss.

When he pulled away from you and saw the discomfort that was evident in the way your brows were furrowed together, he frowned slightly. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, tucking a few strands of your loose hair behind your ear as he peered down at you with those sparkly, expressive doe-eyes of his.

“I don’t know, my throat hurts all of a sudden.” You said, swallowing over the painful scratch in your mouth.

“Did you drink some water?”

“Yeah, but it’s not helping…”

“Let me make you some warm tea, then,” your boyfriend reached down and tenderly squeezed your forearm with a tiny smile stretching across his lips. “Surely that will help you feel better.”

“But- Min, it’s too late, you worked so much today… it’s okay, I can make it,” you protested, catching hold of his wrist and stopping him from leaving your side. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, even as your throat was screaming at you for something warm.

“It’s okay, kitten. Making the tea will only take a few minutes, and then I’ll be right back in bed with you.” Just then he bent into you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away and ruffling some of your hair with a wide grin on his face. “Wanna help you, baby, hmm?”

And how could you deny that face? Those words? So, you released your grasp over him and watched him flood from the bedroom. Not a minute later you heard rummaging in the kitchen, as your loving boyfriend began to prepare a cup of tea for you.

In his absence, you tried - and failed - to get comfortable in bed again. Your book was long forgotten on your nightstand, and your throat had gotten so progressively worse over a few minutes that swallowing was starting to hurt.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take waiting any longer, Minho walked through your bedroom door with a huge, steaming mug in his hands. “It’s lemon-chamomile flavour… I added some honey for extra comfort, too.” He said as he placed it into your outstretched palms.

“Thank you, baby- don’t deserve you.” You mumbled in a quiet voice, offering him a tiny smile.

“Does it hurt to talk?” He asked as he turned off the lamp on your nightstand before rounding the bed and joining you on his side. He got comfortable underneath the thick duvet before switching off the last remaining light in the bedroom.

Everything was thrown into darkness around you, and for a moment, you were disoriented. But then you felt a familiar hand reach over to you and grasp one of your free hands, squeezing slightly, and you relaxed into your pillows.

“Yeah, kinda…” Your voice trailed off into the night as you took a sip of the tea. It was piping hot, but even still, felt amazing as it went down. You could already feel the chamomile and honey concoction soothing your discomfort away. “This tastes amazing, Min. Thank you.”

Minho snuggled deeper into the covers, shivering a few times from the chill in the air. It was the dead of winter and even with the heat blasting throughout your shared apartment, your place always seemed to have a cold draft traveling between the few rooms. “I’m glad you like it.” Your boyfriend’s voice was heavy, indicating that he was truly exhausted.

You leaned over to him and carded a few fingers through his dark, chestnut-brown hair. “Now, go to sleep, you workaholic. You’ve got a jam-packed schedule for the rest of the week.” You said into the quiet that had suddenly fallen over the bedroom.

Your words suddenly had Minho groaning into his pillow, “Don’t even fucking remind me about tomorrow’s schedule- it’s gonna be hell, for sure,” he began in that deep voice of his that would always come out late at night. You had told him many times in the past that you loved the sound of it, to which he cockily said that he’d try to stay up later with you so that way you could hear it more and gush over how sexy he sounded. Secretly, he loved the praise… a little too much, if you were truly honest with yourself. “You’ll be okay to go to bed?” He suddenly asked, bringing you out of your reverie of thought on his sultry ‘night voice.’

“Just fine,” you whispered, snuggling down under the sheets. You could already feel the heat that was radiating off of Minho’s body, as he slowly warmed the two of you up just with his hot-blooded self alone.

“Okay, then… goodnight, my baby. Feel better in the morning, yeah?”

“Goodnight Min. And sure, I’ll try to.” You replied in a quiet voice.

And then there was no reply from your boyfriend, as he swiftly drifted off to dreamland. After you had finished your tea, you snuggled up against him, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and pressing your back against his inviting, bare chest. The chamomile had helped immensely to take the ache in your throat away, and in no time at all, you were joining Minho in dreamland.

When you woke up the next day, your throat hurt like a bitch. You had thought that the night before had been bad, but nothing compared to how dry and scratchy it felt so early in the morning.

Turning over on your side with a groan, you cracked your eyes open against the bright light shining through from the bedroom’s large bay window. You noticed how Minho’s space was already empty. You shifted a palm across his pillow, noting the coldness of the satin fabric.

Stumbling out of bed a few minutes later, you realized how quiet the apartment was. With a glance at the nearby clock on your nightstand, the time read just past seven in the morning. Minho was already long gone.

Since your sore throat had only gotten worse overnight, you deemed yourself unfit to go to work that day. So after having called up your manager and telling her that you had to take a sick day, you slowly got ready for the day. The hot shower worked somewhat in relieving your throat pain, but not by much. And by the time you had dried your hair, brushed your teeth, and thrown on some comfy sweats and one of the many hoodies that you had stolen from Minho throughout your relationship, a spilling migraine had begun to bloom across your temples.

“Just my luck…” You mumbled to yourself as you made your way into the kitchen. With a glance around the adjacent living room/dining room, you noticed how the apartment looked more tidy than usual. Your boyfriend must’ve cleaned the place before he left early that morning. The thought of him picking up because you didn’t feel well left a wide smile on your face as your trudged to the fridge.

Having opened the thing, you noticed a huge soup pot that was covered with a lit, sitting on the middle shelf. A note was attached to the top of it, and it read,

Baby,

Made some rice porridge for you this morning. Didn’t have time to wake you up to tell you, so only kissed you goodbye. Text me after you’re finished eating- I haven’t made the recipe in a while and want to know how I did.

Love you, and hope you feel better,

- Min XX

You felt the emotions rising inside of you as you read the small note again, and soon, your eyes were turning watery from unshed tears. He truly was the best boyfriend ever. Minho was the type of guy who liked to share his love for you in actions. He loved cooking for you and cleaning for you. But over time, since you two had started dating, he had slowly become more expressive with his feelings through words as well. It was a nice change that you gladly welcomed and it made your heart all fuzzy to know that he was trying to be a better lover for you alone.

In no time at all, you had heated a portion of rice porridge for yourself. It was chock full of tender, flavourful chicken, and tons of veggies - like carrots, mushrooms, and even zucchini. You drizzled some fish sauce and soy sauce on top of it and used the chopped-up scallions that Minho had left for you to garnish the porridge.

You took a picture to send to your boyfriend before you dug into the meal. And instantly, you felt so much better. The heat of the porridge slid down your throat and coated your insides with a fuzzy, comforting feeling. It was so very delectable and you finished it in just a few minutes. After you were done eating, you made sure to take some ibuprofen that you had on hand to try and combat the splitting migraine that was upon you.

Sending the picture you had taken earlier of your meal, you quickly texted Minho.

Min Today 10:03

Me: Just had the porridge… WHY have you never made this for me before?! It was amazing!!

Within a minute, he texted back.

Min: Wow, I had no idea you’d like it that much, I’ll have to make it again. It makes me happy to hear that you enjoyed it. :) Did it help with your sore throat? You looked to be in discomfort when I left this morning…

Me: Yes! The porridge really soothed me, I feel better already!

Min: Ok, I’m glad then :) You took off work today, right?

Me: I mean, yeah, since I can barely talk :(

Min: Awe baby :( I’m so sorry. Just rest today, I’ll try to be home earlier than I was last night.

Me: I’ll just be laying in bed all day haha… and ok, have a good day at work! Love you <3

Min: Love you too <;33

Staring at the bright screen of your phone was only making your headache worse, so you turned it off and trekked back to your bed. The exhaustion hit you as soon as your back hit the soft mattress, and halfway through the comfort movie you had turned on on the tv, you were already drifting off to sleep.

Late that same night, the fever started. At first, your cheeks were just flushed, which could happen from time to time. But then, the back of your neck started to feel warm too. And soon, it felt like your entire body had been doused in a scorching hot pit of lava.

Keeping to his word, Minho arrived home an entire hour earlier than the night before. When he walked through the apartment’s front door at eleven with both hands full of groceries, you immediately stood up from the living room couch to help him unpack.

“No, no- I’ve got it. Go sit back down,” he insisted, trying to shoo you away with his hand as he placed the many bags atop the kitchen counter.

You peeked into one of them and saw a huge box of multi-flavoured popsicles. “What’s all this for?” You mumbled in a weak voice.

“You, my dear… want to cook some good meals to help you feel better,” Minho said, turning you towards him so that he could get a good look at your face. When he noticed the deep crimson flush that stretched across your cheeks and traveled down to the part of your next that was exposed from your - formerly his - baggy hoodie, his brows furrowed. “Baby, do you feel warm?” The light in his eyes flashed with concern as he gently pressed a hand against your cheek and forehead.

“Y-yeah, a little…”

“You’re burning up,” Minho said, voice a little panicked as he led you back over to the living room couch, the groceries suddenly forgotten. You had only ever gotten a fever once before in all the time that you two had been dating, and it hadn’t been all that bad, to begin with. And it sure as hell hadn’t made you feel as hot as you did just then. “Here, let me get the thermometer.”

Then he was gone from your side and rushing into your bedroom, in search of the only thermometer you kept on hand. Resting against the couch, you tried to focus on anything else but the soreness in your throat and the heat that flooded through your veins just then. The headache had come back with a vengeance a little earlier that night, the ibuprofen wearing off fairly quickly. Much to your demise.

Minho was beside you again a few minutes later, thermometer in hand. “Baby, open for me,” he instructed, and you opened your mouth slightly so that he could slide the small thing under your tongue. The metal felt cold against your teeth, and time seemed to pass by agonizingly slowly, as you two sat there on the couch and waited for the reading. When it finally beeped loudly, Minho took it out and inspected it. “Nighty-nine-point-eight. You’ve definitely got a fever.”

You closed your eyes then, resting an arm across your eyes and groaning into the crook of your elbow. Even your eyelids felt hot. “Fuck- I’ll have to take off more sick days from work. I really can’t afford to do that-”

“Kitten, I think that’s the least of your worries right now,” your boyfriend said softly just beside you. You felt his hand wrap around your knee and squeeze the skin there gently. “I’m going to get some cold rags, okay? Just- stay here.” By the way that his voice had turned a little high-pitched, you could tell how he was slowly starting to get stressed out about the whole thing. Which was saying a lot, since there wasn’t much in the world that could stress him out.

The two of you rarely fell ill, and when you did, it was always a mild case of the cold. So for you to have so many symptoms all at once, must’ve been very overwhelming for your boyfriend. But, what could you do? The sickness was here, and it was here to stay…

You felt something cold press against your forehead amid your thoughts, and you cracked your tired eyes open to glimpse Minho leaning towards you on the couch, two other wet washcloths in hand.

“These will help to cool you down,” he explained, as he helped move you forward a little bit so that he could place the second cloth behind your neck. Then you let him guide you so that you were fully laying down on the couch, limbs sprawled out. You were too sapped of energy to even ask what he was doing as he gingerly lifted your oversized hoodie. When you felt the coldness of a third, and final washcloth press against your stomach, you understood his sudden actions. “You should take some ibuprofen, that’ll help bring your fever down.”

“I can’t take it without first eating something.”

“Then I’ll make you some food- did you have dinner?”

You shook your head no, the motion only making your pounding headache worse. You winced and grabbed at your head, massaging one of your temples.

“How about I heat some of the rice porridge from earlier?” Minho offered before standing up from his kneeling position on the ground.

But just as he was about to leave your side, you stopped him by grasping at the fabric of his dark-blue sweatpants by his knees. He was still sweaty from the apparent dance practice that he had been doing in the studio just before he came home. “No- I- I’m too nauseous to eat anything right now.” You mumbled, voice cracking a little bit from the pain that was solidly rooted in your throat. Your cheeks were so hot, it felt like you had gotten a sunburn while laying out on the beach, when in reality- you had been lying around your apartment all day, not even catching a single glimpse of the sun through the hazy January clouds outside.

“Okay, well, maybe you can take the medicine later when you feel a little better,” Minho said. He was squatting down at your side then, brushing back your hair from your forehead. “Just rest on the couch here while I put the groceries away, and then we can go to bed.”

You nodded in understanding, too tired to say anything else as he kissed your hot cheek and finally pulled away from your side.

That night turned out to be absolutely horrendous.

You tossed and turned throughout it, not being able to get comfortable. The cold washcloths had done little to help bring your fever down, and the throat lozenges that Minho had gotten for you at the grocery store earlier merely coated your throat in this weird aftertaste that left you coughing for half of the night.

Not to mention the headache.

Which had turned into a full-blown migraine.

The ache wrapped around your entire head, and it felt like someone had your skull in a vice-like grip, squeezing and squeezing the very life out of it.

Your boyfriend, who stayed up with you for the entirety of the night, was a literal fucking saint. He made trips into the bathroom every hour to dampen your washcloths with cold water again and regularly made you tea to try and help relieve your throat.

“Min- baby- you need to stop helping me now,” you whispered through the daze of tiredness. Because if you were drained, you couldn’t imagine how your boyfriend had to feel - what with having worked for the better half of sixteen hours that day. “You have so much on your plate right now, I can’t expect you to stay up all night just because I’m feeling like shit.”

“S’okay, I’m not sleepy…” But the way his quiet voice drifted off at the end of his words proved differently to you.

You turned on your side in bed, catching a glimpse of your boyfriend’s slumped form through the faint moonlight that shined through the bedroom window’s curtains. His shoulders were hunched over, his head hanging low, as he massaged languid circles into the palm of your closest hand.

“Yes, you are. Now, go to sleep.” You said firmly, pushing on his shoulders so that his head hit his pillow.

At your forceful movement, his eyes shot open. “I can’t leave you like this- baby, you’re in so much fucking pain right now. I-I feel horrible that I can’t help you more.” He said, his tone desperate. He threaded his fingers through yours then, squeezing a little desperately, trying to convey how strongly he felt about staying up with you and helping you practically survive the night.

“I know babe, I know…” You pushed away a few locks of his dark, chestnut-brown hair that had fallen in front of his face, giving him a soft smile. “But you need to sleep now, okay? That’s how you can help me feel better- by going to bed. I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me.”

Minho was silent for a few beats, as you stared into each other's eyes. You were both incredibly stubborn when you wanted to be, but on this topic- you wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t jeopardize his packed schedule while also letting the boys down just because you weren’t feeling well.

“Alright,” he finally surrendered in a defeated-sounding voice. “But, you’ll wake me up if anything happens, right?”

“Of course.” You leaned down into him and gave the crown of his head a soft kiss. “Love you, Min.”

“Love you too…” He said, his eyes already closed. And just like that, you watched his face relax, body melting into the soft downy mattress, as he finally drifted off to sleep.

And hopefully, you’d soon join him in blissful sleep as well.

Turns out that you didn’t get a wink of shut-eye that night, tossing and turning underneath your thin sheet - you had thrown off the thick duvet coverlet that had been laid on top of you early on in the night. A thick coating of sweat covered your entire body, even with the cold washcloths still placed on you. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, had been out like a light.

In your sleepless, frail daze, you hadn’t managed to catch him as he left for work early the next morning. But as soon as your eyes opened, your head throbbed from the bright light flooding through your bedroom’s curtains, and a strong wave of nausea overtook you.

You shot from your bed and barely made it to the bathroom. You leaned over the toilet bowl and hurled up the little contents that were left inside of you. The only thing you had eaten the day before was the rice porridge that Minho had made for you in the morning and two strawberry-mango-flavoured popsicles to try and ease your throat.

It still hurt like hell, and your head was pounding from your migraine. When you leaned back from the toilet, a loud groan escaped past your lips from the distress that you were in. You sat there on the cold, tiled bathroom floor for a few minutes, just taking in deep breaths and trying to persuade yourself to get up when all you felt like doing was tipping over and passing out from exhaustion.

In the end, you managed to get up from the hard ground and brush your teeth before making your way back to your nightstand, where you had glimpsed a small piece of paper placed just atop your latest pick from your local library. The nightstand’s clock read just half-past ten o’clock in the morning.

You probably didn’t get much sleep last night. Try to take a nap sometime today when you can.

You need to eat something, but, if you’re too nauseous, at least drink lots of water. There’s some Pocari Sweat in the fridge, so drink plenty of that.

And please, try to take some ibuprofen if you can. It will help bring down your fever. Checked it before I left, temp is now at 102.8. It should’ve broken in the night.

Call/text me whenever you want to, I’ll be available all day and will be home even earlier than yesterday.

Love you, Minho XX

Even through your confused state of pain and weariness, a smile graced your lips at your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness. Since you rarely got sick, it was uncommon for you to experience this exact side of him. It was a whole kind of new Lee Minho, and to be honest, you quite liked it. And although the doting could be a little excessive and suffocating, it was the thought that counted, right?

Somehow, you found enough energy inside of you to get up from your comfy bed and into the shower. The hot water felt amazing on your skin, and did wonders for your bad migraine. You stood under the spout for at least twenty minutes - maybe even more than that. And when you were too tired to keep standing, you sat down on the cold tile of the stall. The steam that the scalding water emitted all around you also helped to calm your inflamed throat down, and you basked in the comforting feeling for quite a while.

It was only after you stepped out of the shower, legs slightly wobbly, that you realized your mistake.

You had a fucking fever, for God’s sake-

It should’ve been very obvious to you-

Not to take a scalding hot shower for that long.

Even still, there was no turning back. And almost immediately, you felt the repercussions of your actions. As you wrapped a fluffy white towel around your body and grabbed for the blow dryer, you suddenly felt very lightheaded.

And not the kind of lightheaded that you would sometimes get if you stood up from a sitting position too quickly.

No, this kind of lightheadedness was the kind where you felt like you were about to fucking pass out.

Just then, you realized how hot your entire body felt. You thought that it had been bad before- but nothing compared to the sheer heat that radiated off of your body.

With a racing heart and shaking limbs, you slowly shuffled out of the bathroom, clutching onto the wall for support. Your vision was going in and out, turning so blurry that you could barely see in front of you.

You fumbled around your nightstand for your phone, and with quaking fingers, you dialed Minho’s number as fast as you could. You were standing just beside your bed, legs feeling like they were about to give out on you. You were so weary and confused and felt like you were about to fall over, so half of what you were doing didn’t even make sense to you. But you knew that you had to get ahold of your boyfriend- in that scary moment, that was the most important thing to you.

The phone rang once,

Twice,

Three times.

Please, just fucking pick up-

Please don’t be in a meeting or at practice or-

“Baby? I’m so glad you called, how are you-” His gentle, serene voice rang out across your phone’s speaker that was pressed to your ear.

You let out a sob of relief, the tears finally flowing down your cheeks. “M-Min, I-I can’t-“ It was hard for you to speak over the dizziness and confusion.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?” Minho’s voice immediately turned frantic at your mumblings.

“S-So dizzy- got out of the shower and- and gonna pass out- help me, Min, please-” It felt like your knees were about to buckle just then, but Minho’s voice cut through your heated stupor.

“Lie down right now, baby. You close to the bed?”

“Y-yeah-”

“Lie down, completely stretch out your body. Can you do that for me?”

You said nothing more, shifting towards your bed and collapsing on top of it with a tiny gasp of exhaustion. “I-I’m on it-”

“I’m leaving the company right now,” Minho’s exclamation broke through your daze of fatigue.

“W-What? Baby- no, don’t- you have an important recording today and-”

“To hell with the schedule!” He was suddenly shouting through the phone, making you pull it away from your ear from the loudness. It only made your headache worse. When he heard your whimper of pain, he began speaking again but in a quieter voice. “I’m sorry for yelling, baby- it’s just that, the company can’t expect me to go to work when the fucking love of my life is about to pass out from the flu that she has.” His voice was much calmer this time and helped to soothe your racing heart a little bit. Your limbs were still shaking though, your vision going in and out.

There was silence on both your ends, as your slow mind processed his words. You heard shuffling on his line and muffled voices. Then he was talking to someone - it sounded like Chan - their whispers were hard to hear over the static of the phone.

“Baby?” Minho’s voice cut through your tiredness. You opened your eyes weakly, trying to focus your attention on the painting that hung on the wall just beside your flatscreen tv. It was of a single, pink tulip positioned in a grassy field. The piece was something that Hyunjin had gifted you for your birthday in the past year. “I want you to stay on the phone with me until I get home, okay? Just keep talking to me - about anything - just don’t close your eyes, alright?”

His instructions seemed like absolute torture to you right then, because all you wanted to do was close your eyes and let go - let your mind drift off into wonderland for even a few blissful seconds. “I’ll try,” you started, voice quiet as you nuzzled into the bed’s thick duvet that was still messed up from the night before. You hadn’t found the energy to make it yet. “I-I threw up this morning.”

“Oh, darling- I’m so sorry I wasn’t there… but, I’ll be there soon, yeah? I’ll take care of you, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” His tone was laced with concern, and a tiny smile spread across your lips at how attentive he was being toward you.

The entire thirty-minute commute that he took every day from your apartment to the company, you stayed on the line with your boyfriend, talking about whatever came to your mind. You were still nauseous, so food was never brought up, mainly just the changing weather and what you wanted to do that weekend since he’d have a break from schedules that Saturday, which was quite a rare occurrence for him.

Laying down on the bed had helped your dizziness somewhat, but every time you shifted just a little bit, your vision would go blurry again. It was annoying as fuck, to add yet another symptom to your myriad of other problems.

“I’m pulling up to the apartment right now, so I’ll hang up. Wait for me, baby.” Minho finally said after what felt like an eternity of him traveling home from the company. You mumbled an incoherent ‘yes’ before he hung up the call.

True to your promise, you kept your eyes open, laying as still as a statue on the bed. You were back to studying Hyunjin’s flower painting just as you heard the front door’s keypad being used. A breath of relief left you as shuffling echoed throughout the one-bedroom apartment, and in no time at all, there your boyfriend was- rushing into your bedroom with a wild look in his eyes and flushed cheeks, his dark brows furrowed.

“Kitten-“ he breathed out in a sight of relief at the sight of your still-awake form, “C’mere.” He dropped his backpack on the floor next to the door before he was bounding towards you. In one swift movement, he was lifting you off the bed, taking you up into his arms, and cradling your head against his chest as he sat back down on the bed’s plush mattress.

The tears started again almost as soon as he had you in his arms. Your sobs wracked through your body, as he brushed soothing fingers through your hair. You knew that crying would only make your migraine worse, but you couldn’t give a flying fuck about anything just then. You were just so happy to see your boyfriend, after such a disastrous morning.

“Y-You came back for me,” you sniffled after a long bout of silence that was filled with only your cries. You pulled away from his chest, looking up at him through blurry vision. “I-I was so scared, Min.”

Minho swiped his thumbs underneath your eyes, gently catching your falling tears with the pads of his soft fingers. “Of course I did, baby. I love you… and it kills me to see you this way. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”

“Just glad you’re here now,” you whispered, clutching onto his waist a little harder. “I’ll feel better now with just your presence alone… but, how long are you staying for?”

He tucked a few strands of your still-sopping wet hair behind your ear. In your dizziness, you hadn’t found the time to dry it yet. “Not leaving you again, darling. The company gave me the day off, Chan helped me persuade them.”

“B-But you’re gonna miss such an important day of schedules and-”

Your boyfriend shushed you with a slender finger to your lips. “It’s already done now, Y/N. So let’s just focus on helping you feel better, alright? By firstly, getting you dressed.”

You looked down and realized that you were still only clad in your soaked towel. “Wow, I didn’t even realize I was still in this…” Your voice trailed off, as Minho placed you back down on the bed and made for your walk-in closet.

“Is it a sweatpants and hoodie kinda day again?” He asked as he poked his head into the closet.

“A-Actually, I’m too hot to wear anything thick,” you managed to stutter out, perched at the edge of the bed. And soon enough, your loving, doting boyfriend emerged from the closet with a pair of soft, black cotton shorts and a thin, maroon-colored camisole.

“Will this do?” He questioned, holding up the items for you to inspect them from across the room.

Wordlessly, you nodded your approval. And soon enough, he was shifting his way toward you. In no time at all, he had helped slip the shorts up your bare legs, the loose waistband resting gently against your hips. Then, he guided the camisole over your head, gently pulling the thin spaghetti straps over your shoulders.

“All good?” Leaning forward, he tucked a piece of your wet hair that had fallen into the front of your face behind your ear.

“Mhm- but my hair’s still wet from the shower,” you mumbled, staring up into his dark pupils that were dancing with a myriad of emotions - but especially, concern. “Carry me?” You asked, reaching out your arms to him, supple and waiting, like a small baby that wanted to be carried by someone they trusted.

“Always, kitten.” He whispered, just as he pulled you up into his hold. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he charged for the bathroom. And soon, you were sitting atop the granite counter, as he ran his fingers through your hair.

The blow dryer was loud in your ears, and the heat from it only seemed to raise your temperature even more. You still had your legs wound around Minho’s torso as he worked with nimble fingers to dry your hair. You tipped your head towards his hand every time he ran a brush through your locks.

When he was finished, he pressed a palm against your forehead for what felt like the millionth time that day. “You’re still burning up, baby…” His voice trailed off, as he leaned across the counter, grabbing a stray hair bobble. He pulled your hair away from your face and fitted it into a loose ponytail at the back of your head. Immediately upon the feeling of your thick locks being out of your face, a content sigh of relief escaped past your lips. “I really need you to take that ibuprofen, honey.” A deep frown bloomed across his lips, turning his mouth downwards in a displeased kind of way.

“My migraine isn’t as bad as it was earlier, so I think I can choke something down now.” You said. Your eyes were still closed, as you breathed in the familiar scent - of warm, dark roasted coffee and cinnamon sticks - of your boyfriend.

And in no time at all, he had you seated on the living room couch, your eyes trailing over the food that he prepared for lunch. There was a bowl of the porridge that he had made the day before, a piece of plain, white buttered toast, and a yellowed banana. Not to mention the medicine set off to the side with a tall glass of water.

“Eat, baby.” Your boyfriend took hold of the tray that the food was on and positioned it on your lap.

He was sitting beside you on the couch, gaze locked on your form with a certain kind of intensity that would make you anxious if you didn’t know him so well. The intensity he had was only borne out of concern. He so desperately wanted you to get better, that’s all.

“Thank you, Min… it looks delicious.” You pecked his cheek gently, watching as a soft smile cracked across his lips before you delved into the lunch.

You had to admit, the food was exceptionally good. The porridge helped to alleviate your throat, and the bread filled your stomach comfortably. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had truly been until you started eating. But halfway through the meal, you stopped when you noticed how your boyfriend hadn’t moved from his spot of watching you.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” You asked, motioning towards your spoon that was laden with porridge.

He shook his head slowly, “Want to take care of you first, that’s all.”

You gave him a deep frown. “Min, you're already taking care of me. Just making this meal is enough for me.”

“I know, but I wasn’t here earlier- don’t want to take my eyes off you for even a second, in case something happens.”

“I’m not going to pass out, baby. I’m fine now. So please, eat some lunch, yeah?”

“You still have the flu, Y/N. Just because you haven’t passed out yet doesn’t mean you won’t in the future,” Minho crossed his arms in front of his chest, canting his head to the side, eyes trailing on your red-cheeked face. “And I want to be sure I’m here to catch you if that happens.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence…” You grumbled softly, turning your attention back to your cooling porridge. There was no use fighting him on the matter anyway. He was a stubborn mule when he wanted to be, and apparently, Minho would run himself ragged before he ever looked away from you again.

It was only after you had finished your lunch, and had downed four ibuprofen pills and a glass of water with it, that Minho finally got up from the couch to put your dishes away and make something for himself. He rounded the couch a few minutes later, pressing a cold washcloth against your head. The sudden coolness surprised you, and you slightly sat up from your laying position on the couch to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend.

Minho took a seat at the end of the couch, near your feet, a plate of food in his hands. For his meal, he was having a rather bland-looking sandwich, with a green apple sliced thin set off to the side.

“That’s all you’re having to eat?” You raised an eyebrow at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him.

His gaze was already on you even before you met his stare, as he bit into his sandwich. “Don’t pass judgment on my habits when you hadn’t eaten anything until just now.”

“But I’m the one who’s sick here…” You protested, shaking your head in disapproval at the lack of food on his plate. He was a growing guy, always in the gym, always straining his body for work. He needed to eat enough to fuel himself properly. Changbin was always harping about such things to the boys, but especially, your boyfriend. Since, as Changbin put it, ‘he never seems to get enough macros in for his height and weight range.’ Whatever the hell that meant.

To that, Minho said nothing, merely biting into his sandwich once more. His silence only made you more agitated with him, and that, coupled with your slightly-pounding migraine and your drowsiness only helped to add fuel to the fire.

“I”m worried about you, Min… you need to eat more if you want-”

“You’re worried?” He suddenly let out a dry, humorless scoff. And instantly, you recognized his tone. In the blink of an eye, his entire demeanor shifted. It changed from the intensity he had from caring for you, to the intensity that he always got whenever he was worked up. Whenever he was worked up about you, and your safety. “I’m the one who’s fucking worried here, Y/N!” He practically burst out in a loud voice, throwing his plate down on the nearby coffee table in his sudden exclamation.

“Minho-” You began in a soft voice but you were quickly cut off by his raising voice once more.

“Do you have any fucking idea how scary it was to get a call from you this morning and have you practically fighting for your very life to not pass out right then and there?” He ran a few frantic fingers through his hair, clutching at the roots, slightly bending over, and resting his elbows against his knees. “Because damn it- I was practically shaking from all the worry. And then I come home and find you literally naked and sopping wet and crying and-” Just then, his voice cracked, his words fading off into the distance.

And in the next beat, you were moving. Towards him, so that you were right up in his personal space. You took hold of one of his hands, pulling it away from tugging at his locks of brown hair. Squeezing your fingers between his own, you pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hand.

“Baby, I’m so sorry… it’s my fault that everything became such a big mess. I didn’t have to take such a long, hot shower.” You admitted, giving his skin another kiss.

Minho pulled his head up just then, as it had dropped between his hunched shoulders in his distress. His eyes slid over to yours instantly. “Don’t apologize, none of this is your fault. You were only trying to relieve your symptoms, I get it.” He held onto your hand a little tighter, like in that moment, he needed to be grounded in the reality of you. That you were still there with him, still living and breathing, albeit tired as hell and ill to the bone. But still, there nonetheless. “And please, just... don’t leave me, okay? I can’t lose you, baby… I can’t…” His voice became a tiny whisper at the end of his words, misery flashing across his face, radiating deep in the way that his eyes softened at the sight of you, his brows creasing with the tears that he could never seem to shed.

“Min, I have the flu… not the damn plague.” You laughed, lips grazing his hand again as you placed another peck against his skin. “And of course, I’m not going to leave you.”

“Good, because I’m never going to leave you either.” And suddenly, he was taking hold of you, pulling you onto his lap and burrowing his face into the crook of your exposed neck. He blew raspberry kisses against your heated skin, making you burst out into a fit of giggles. You kicked your feet up into the air, trying to escape him as his nimble fingers tickled you at your sides.

And all at once, just for a few minutes, he helped you forget about everything - about your sickness, the discomfort, and the fatigue. All of it. Helping by kissing away the swarthy thoughts and tension-filled temples.

Later that day, your fever finally broke. The medicine seemed to kick in just in time and helped to completely take away your headache. Your throat still felt dry and scratchy, but continually downing warm cups of tea was slowly helping that. You and Minho spent the day lounging around the apartment, watching random reality shows that were playing on the tv, and indulging in a whole pint of chocolate ice cream an hour before bed.

But despite having all that sugar and caffeine right before laying down, you found that sleep threatened to take over you as soon as your head hit the pillow.

“Will you go in to work tomorrow?” You asked, laying on your side and facing your boyfriend as he sprawled out in the bed just a little ways away from you.

“I don’t know… I hope not.”

“The boys will need you, baby. I think you should.”

After all, he was an integral part of the team. He couldn’t simply disappear from Stray Kids for even a few days and not have them feel the lasting effects of his absence.

“Let’s not worry about that and just focus on going to bed, okay?” He reached out to you, clutching onto your hip and pulling you towards him.

When your forehead was comfortably rested against his bare, muscled chest, you peered up at him with a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Thanks for taking care of me today, honey. I don’t deserve you…”

He pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, his voice rumbling with sleep as he spoke, “I’ll do anything for you, kitten. And of course, you deserve me- I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

Without another word said between the two of you, you closed your eyes and breathed in deeply. Your boyfriend's comforting scent washed over you, seeming to soothe a tender spot inside of you, and all at once, you were falling fast and hard into a deep slumber.

The first thing you noticed when you awoke the following morning was that for once in what felt like an eternity, the blinding morning light shining through the bedroom curtains didn’t automatically make you feel like shit. Instead, it helped to place a content feeling deep inside your heart.

And the second thing that you noticed when you awoke the following morning was the fact that your boyfriend was still in bed.

He had both arms wrapped around your waist, and when you dragged away from his chest, a muffled groan fled from his slightly-parted lips.

With a glance at your nearby clock, you noticed how it was well past the time that he usually got up for work.

Minho cracked an eye open from the shifting of your figure, a lazy smirk blooming across his mouth at the sight of your eyebrows raising on your forehead in surprise. “Guess I won’t be going in to work after all…” He said, voice husky with sleep.

You squirmed in his arms until you were loose enough to get a good look at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and suddenly, you thought that perhaps the huskiness of his voice wasn’t just from sleep. “Why are you staying home today? I thought you said you were going to go into the office.”

Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, that same smirk was still on his face. “The sore throat woke me up in the middle of the night.”

A loud groan bubbled up and out of you, as you scrubbed a frustrated hand across your face. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey- well, at least you’re feeling somewhat better now… that way, you can take care of me when I nearly pass out after a hot shower.”

With that, you shoved at his shoulder gently, sending a glare his way. “This isn’t funny, Min. You shouldn’t have gotten so close to me- shouldn’t have kissed me! Now you can’t go to work for God knows how long because of this stupid flu!”

He waved a noncommittal hand in the air, batting away your worries like he didn’t have seven other boys who depended on him, like he didn’t have a whole company counting on his work, like he didn’t have millions of worldwide fans anticipating his presence. “Eh- to hell with it all, I was bored with work anyway. And besides, I cannot ever stop myself from kissing you, baby. At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s hardwired into my brain as a daily need to function.” He gave you a playful wink, and you rolled your eyes exasperatingly.

“You're so stupid,” you grumbled, hating the idea of seeing him go through the same pain you went through. You had survived the worst of it already, but you wouldn’t wish it on anyone - not even your worst enemy. “Well, you better promise that you won’t be a pain in my ass and actually accept my help when you need it.”

He shook his head noncommittally, “I shall make no such promises.” You felt a hand clutch at one of your sides, just as he was pulling you against his warm body once more. “Now, c’mere and give me a kiss.”

You smiled against his mouth, melting into his hold as he pressed kiss after soft kiss to your lips.

Because even though now you were both sick,

At least you had each other.

And at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered…

That Minho had you, and you had him.

So even despite feeling like a literal ball of hot, steamy garbage baking in the summer heat,

You felt like, at that moment, you could whether anything in life - any storm coming your way, any curve ball thrown at you, any toxic person coming into your path,

Just as long as you had him by your side.

As long as you had Lee Minho, your beautiful, loving, eccentric, doting boyfriend, you’d be just fine.

Fin.

taglist: want to be added onto my taglist so that you always get notified when i post a new work? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can simply send me a msg and request to be added that way~

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rweoutofthewoods · 11 days

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hey mere! so i just go around to reading tennessee baby and i just wanted to express my … disappointment i guess? don’t get me wrong here i love previous work vm usually u do jeggy so so much justice and i usually have such adoration for your characters but this one is really rubbing me the wrong way as james is essentially grooming reg and its promoting teachers and adults in general abusing their power with children. cause regulus might be of age but he’s still a child in comparison to james and just in general like 17-19 are still children they are teenagers and don’t have a fully developed brain and so the way you’re making it seem as if it’s regulus doing is just WRONG. like i don’t even have other word for it. and yes i get the whole don’t like it don’t read it but… how do you feel comfortable promoting stuff like this in the first place to your audience who previously hasn’t gotten the impression that you’d promote such violence in your fics yk?

anyways, i’m only sending this in hopes that you may have something say about it i guess cause as of right now i’m not sure if i’d even feel comfortable reading anything else you’d write in the future which is just heartbreaking to me as i’ve been following along with you for so long now!

If you have read my writing before then I hope you know that I don’t write anything as black and white. I write things that are purposefully wrong and the characters are supposed to be in the wrong.

This is something I run into a lot that is very frustrating to me because I can’t force anyone to understand my work. But I understand my work.

That is to say I’m not writing Tennessee Baby with the intention of saying any of this is good or alright. I’m not writing it to act like my characters are in the right. I don’t write things to be moral lessons on how a person should act because why should I? I plan my writing, I exist for it, I have thought out every single little detail and exactly what I’m portraying. which as the fic goes on, I think everyone will find is the exact opposite of “promoting violence” or any of this behavior to my audience.

So two things.

1. The fic is incomplete and very early in the story. Their relationship is just beginning and we’ve barely gone anywhere. It’s a bit premature to judge me morally on a story I’ve barely begun and I WILL touch on all the things and I’m not painting my characters as their actions being okay. But it takes time to write a story. You know who thinks regulus in control and at fault for their sexual relationship? REGULUS. In his pov only… maybe think about that and think about all the ways I’ve showed how he IS a kid despite being a legal adult. I know exactly what I’m writing, trust me. I think you don’t, and I can’t blame you bc the fic is so early in the plot, but it would be nice for people to trust me. Bc comments similar to your concerns pop up regarding a lot of my WIPs and I always know exactly what I’m doing and what my intentions are. So it’s a tad frustrating often feeling the need to defend my writing choices when ik if we just wait and read on everything will become clear.

2. I did warn multiple times exactly what the fic would contain and that it is immoral and it’s MEANT to be. None of this is supposed to be acceptable behavior and I have never acted as if it is.

So really I guess I’m a little disappointed in your response. If it’s not your cup of tea that’s fine! Not judging! It isn’t a nice happy unproblematic fic. If u went happy moral fluff there’s a million other fics for you. But this is the writer I am. I always HAVE been. I’ve written multiple cheating fics, I’ve written age gap, I’ve written characters killing people. Does that mean I believe in infidelity, murder, and student teacher relationships? no 😭that’s not how it works, and the things I write don’t morally define me at all. In fact most of my writing teaches a lesson. if you can’t understand that and don’t want to read my work anymore that’s fine, but I hope you consider why people might choose to purposefully write things that are wrong.

#mere answering things ;)#fic: tennessee baby

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britcision · 11 months

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Happy WIP Wednesday everyone! Because I asked last week what to call him, this week y’all can have some Conner!

Chapter 16 is coming along much better now that I’ve mostly settled on the order I want this first little segment to be in, so we’ll see how long it takes to wrap up some Tim/Tuck/Con and get to the good stuff 😇

Not quite half way there yet, but it’s on the horizon

———————

Field Trips Without Permission Slips part 2

In the skies above Wayne manor, Conner stalled out for a moment. His powers weren’t the most reliable, he was more than aware of it.

Usually though? He could tell when they were fritzing out.

He’d heard Danny and Jason perfectly clearly, a weird tearing noise, and now both were gone. No voices, no breathing (had they always been breathing? Suddenly he wasn’t sure), no heartbeat.

Neither of them had sounded particularly upset, or concerned. Well, not more than Jason already had been.

Jason’s heart had actually been a little slower by the time they parted ways, and hadn’t gone back up.

Not that Conner was eavesdropping. Not on purpose, anyway. He’d heard voices and listened just enough to identify Tim’s brother before stopping to check in.

He didn’t much care what anyone else did in the skies above Gotham, so long as it wasn’t his problem. And he valued privacy, or at least got pissed enough when Clark disrespected his that he wouldn’t do the same.

Right up until he’d flown away and Danny had casually commented about Tucker melting if Conner asked him to ride.

Because that had kinda been directed at him, really. That didn’t count. He’d even heard his own name. Tuned right back out after, up until the disappearing.

(And totally wasn’t thinking about Tim’s new friend wanting to actually ride him. He hadn’t even met the guy yet, although from what Tim had told him he was pretty sure they’d get along.

Anyone who could get Tim to actually enjoy a proper meal had to be kept around on a freakin’ pedestal.

He was resigning himself to a lot of technobabble though. Tim on his own tended to go off, but if Tucker really was on Tim’s level?

Yeah, Conner was well aware he’d understand at most half of what they were talking about, but he just liked seeing Tim that happy. That passionate.

Conner was well aware he didn’t offer much to Tim’s intellectual side, not being one to wait for a well thought out plan, but that was kinda why they worked so well. Their skills were a near perfect complement.

He’d do his best not to melt their new friend though. Definitely no riding jokes.

Maybe he was preening just the tiniest ittiest bit that Danny apparently thought he was that hot.)

He was stuck for a moment, held by indecision. Jason had been in the kind of mood that Conner wanted him nowhere fucking near Tim.

He definitely was not near Tim. Mission accomplished?

On the other hand, part of Tim had never fully let go of Jason as his Robin. Not even after… well, everything that happened when Jason came back.

Conner had been kinda out of it when the whole Titans Tower incident went down (and dead shortly after), but he knew the basics, and he knew Tim. Tim hadn’t processed fucking anything from that time well.

Still probably hadn’t. Conner didn’t really want to ask if his boyfriend still had the data from the whole attempted cloning thing.

But when Dick finally got through to Jason, Tim had jumped at the explanation of the pit rage. It took the edge off what Conner knew ached more than the beating; being rejected by his predecessor.

His hero.

Conner woulda kicked Jason’s ass for that alone, even without the physical attack, but Tim… Tim didn’t want him to.

For one thing, Tim could make Jason’s life hell just fine on his own. But Tim…

Well.

Conner was more than happy to admit that Tim knew way more about the Lazarus pits than any of Young Justice. He just hoped Tim was going off knowledge, and not just the wish for his hero to accept him.

Because Jason did, now. They’d never exactly talked about it, the asshole never apologised, but… they got along.

Jason was prickly as fuck with everyone, but Conner had noticed how… careful he was with Tim. How quick to back down, to just remove himself from the situation if Tim pushed him.

Which Tim did, because none of the bats had any self preservation.

Jason really did seem to be fighting something inside him. A fight he didn’t always win, but had learned to retreat from. Taking himself away before he lost completely.

It was most obvious when Steph wound him up; Conner had been to enough family dinners, and talked to her enough to know she hadn’t let Jason entirely off the hook either.

But they’d both defer to Tim, because it was Tim’s call.

Tim would probably want to know Jason had disappeared off the face of the earth. Actually, Tim would probably know exactly why and how it had happened.

Had Jason or Danny actually mentioned what other business they might have? Conner had kinda been focused on not letting Jason near Tim, but he didn’t think so.

If it was a planned disappearance, it’d have been Danny doing it, so Tucker would probably know more, right? Danny obviously had multiple abilities, Conner had already seen at least two.

Either way, the answers were in the manor beneath him, along with his very favourite person in the world.

Alfred. Tied with Ma and Pa Kent, though.

And his beloved boyfriend Tim, of course.

Brightening a little, Conner made his descent, landing at the backdoor of the manor and letting himself in.

On the off chance they did need to be worried about Jason and Danny’s strange disappearance, at least he was already in town.

—————————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara a @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook k

#dp x dc #wip wednesday #danny fenton dead and loving it #chapter 16 part 2 #dead on main ship #danny x jason #today it is all about the tim x tucker x conner tho 👀👀👀#greatest woe my ding dang paste is still busted on app #but the browser’s working again

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you-remind-me-of-the-babe · 2 months

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An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIPs

Thank you for tagging me @ic3-que3n @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @youarenevertooold @whatevertheweather @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @aristocratic-otter @monbons @emeryhall @valeffelees (wow everyone is out here playing huh?)

🦈Tell us the name of your / one of your WIP(s)

As of right now, I’m going with Back and Back and Back but that may change.

🍄Decscribe your wip / one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Past flashbacks in which Baz grows up being visited by an older Simon in the woods outside his house in Hampshire + current 7th year Simon suddenly finds himself traveling back in time to visit young Baz = both Simon and Baz trying to figure out what’s happening in the present, resulting in them falling in love in a mesh of past and present

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Soulmates, time travel, canon divergent, Watford-era, angst with a happy ending, kid!Baz, lightly inspired by Time Traveler’s Wife.

🧭An alternative title to your / one of your WIP(s)?

I mentioned this last week, but I quite like Start at the End, even though I don’t think it technically is accurate or describes the fic.

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

Idk, this one will be quite long, but everything else in my WIP folder are just attempts at starting a premise I liked, but none of them have gotten much traction, so probably this one? Hopefully?

💾What is your document of your wip / a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Time Travel AU

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

He whistles, looking around and finally taking the time to fully appreciate the tree house.

“Did you make this?”

“With help,” I explain. “Some from Father. Mostly from you.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. That’s one thing I’ve yet to figure out, why he forgets. Sometimes, he remembers our past visits with more detail than I do. As if they’d just happened the day before instead of years ago. Other times, he can’t remember something as big as building a treehouse with me. He reminds me of my grandmother, when her dementia had its grips on her. She’d recall something from her childhood so clearly, and the next minute, she’d forget my name.

Father didn’t want me to call attention to it in front of her. He said it would only make her more confused. So I don’t mention it to him, either. We just sort of…dance around it, without mentioning it outright. (He’d fit right in with my family, honestly.) I just clarify things and then we move on.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

I was thinking about having the Humdrum be a time traveling younger Simon, or something like that, in addition to current Simon being a time traveler. Like, they discover there’s another version of him traveling, but I thought that would be too confusing. So instead, he’s just the regular ol’ Humdrum.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I have a lil Drabble in my head about Baz being sad while his wedding ring is getting fixed by the jewelers for a week so Simon has to cheer him up. (It me. Rubbing my empty ring finger all week while it’s getting fixed and I hate it not being there.)

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

Actively? I think just this one right now. There are about 4 other half starts from earlier this year when I was just throwing spaghetti noodles at the wall to see what stuck. Some of them I may come back to if I get a burst of inspiration or something.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

(One of) the big reveals because the scene carries a lot of emotional weight, and I want to do it right.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

And kudos to anyone who read this far!

Anyone else want to play? @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @blackberrysummerblog @run-for-chamo-miles @mooncello @angelsfalling16 @artsyunderstudy and anyone else interested! 💜

#tumblr tag game #writing process #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Don't Speak 39

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: more of our lovely dovely.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The message pops up just as you're stuck in a whirlwind. All day you’ve been twitching in anxiety. Or anticipation? You wouldn’t say you’re excited but you should be, right?

Andy’s text is simple. ‘I hope you’re ready’.

Are you?

You haven’t forgotten the conversation. Not his Friday surprise or his rejection. You’re still bitter about his response to Amber, though you know you shouldn’t be. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes either. Still, this is his house.

Maybe you could go to Amber?

That thought quickly flits away as another message bings on the tablet. ‘Turning the corner’.

Shoot. You send a thumbs up and close the tablet. You place it on the coffee table and look down at yourself. You only got as far as your skirt. Your shirt drapes over the armrest of the chair but you hadn’t found the last of your courage.

You sway a little. You’re tired. That swimming sensation itches behind your eyes and swirls in your head. You shake it away but that only seems to make it worse.

You have to hurry. You promised. The last thing you want to do is let Andy down again. Or anyone.

You shimmy out of the skirt and let your panties roll down with it. Clumsily you toss the clothes into the seat of the chair. You struggle to unhook your bra, fingers fumbling, your nerves bouncing off each other. It feels so naughty, even if Andy says it’s okay.

Naked, you shiver and rub your arms. You hear him in the driveway. The glimpse of glistening white through the window prickles your skin. It’s getting colder by the day and last night, the snow began. You always loved the winter but this year, it feels so hollow.

Or maybe you’re just tired. You haven’t been sleeping well. Not at all, really. You just lay awake and think. You think too much. Stop it.

You peek around the wall into the entryway as you listen to the muffled steps outside. Andy kicks beside the door, dusting off his boots, as the latch turns back. You flinch as he enters, his shoulders powdered with snow and his hair sparkling with melting flakes. His cheeks are rosy above his thick beard.

He looks around, brow furrowed, until he finds you. The crease in his forehead softens as he sighs out the tension. You give a sheepish smile that ends in the gnawing of your lower lip.

“What are you doing hiding?” He puts his bag down on the bench.

You gulp as he faces you fully, stretching his arms out in a subtle gesture. Oh, yeah. You remember everything he said. Another chill passes through you as you force yourself out from behind the plaster shield.

He growls as he takes you in completely. You want to cover your nipples as they go pert with the cold he let in, or cross a leg over your little vee of hair. You go to him, swallowing a squeak as he purrs and runs his hand down your side. His fingertips are icy too.

“You gonna warm me up?” He hums. He’s delighting in this, and in a way, his happiness sparks your own. Knowing he’s content means you’re doing well.

“Yes… honey,” you choke out. Sometimes you still forget to say it.

You touch the lapels of his coat and he groans. He feels bigger then. Dressed in all those layers as you stand before him, stripped down and exposed. You stand on your tiptoes as you undo his top button and begin the descent, plucking each open with shaky fingers.

He helps shrug off the heavy wool and as you turn to hang it, he touches your bottom. He lets out another gritty noise but restrains himself. You get down to help him out of his boots next, bending over as he tickles along your naked back. His hand hovers behind your head.

“Mmm, I like you like that,” he taunts. Your lashes flick at the suggestion and for a moment, you fear he might latch on and keep you there. His hand trails across your shoulder and you stand straight. “Baby, it’s all you tonight. I want you to take control. You lead me.”

You stare at him, stunned. You don’t know what to do. Even if you’ve done so much with him. He’s always guiding you, always moving you along.

“You know what to do, honey,” he coaxes, “I’m all yours.”

You might not entirely know what to do, but you know what he wants. You push his suit jacket off as you feel his intent gaze on your every move. His hands wander with his gaze, drinking you in as you repress a shudder.

You tug at his tie cluelessly, choking him before he stops you with a chuckle. He loosens it himself and pulls it free. He throws it carelessly to the floor amidst the rest of his clothing. You pause for a moment; you’re going to be the one cleaning that up.

You shake away that thought and carry on. You feel him tremble as you unbutton his shirt. Your fingers struggling and brushing his skin. He rubs your arms as he takes a deep breath while you tug free the tails of his shirt from his pants. He stops you and brings your hands to his chest, pressing them flat.

“Slow,” he coos, “you don’t have to rush.”

You feel his firm muscle and the soft hair across it. He’s warm but you find little comfort in that. The heat radiating off of him is suffocating. You thought it would be easier by now.

You let your hands flutter down along his stomach, touching until he squirms. You follow his reaction as your own remains unsparked. Why isn’t this doing anything for you? With that toy, alone, you were almost melting. And at the thought of Dr. Kemp…

No. No. You can be good. It will work. The more you do it, the more you’ll like it.

You add Andy’s shirt to the heap and unbuckle his belt. You sense his excitement as it tightens in the bottom of his stomach. His hot breath plumes over you as you pull at his fly. You nearly break the zipper before you part the teeth. His pants fall down his legs and he steps out of the rumpled fabric.

You grab his hand and draw him further inside. He follows eagerly. Your stomach clenches, almost sickeningly. It’s probably just because you haven’t eaten since… whenever.

You glance over your shoulders. The couch… That night when it all happened. That was where it started. You can make it up right now.

You take him to the couch and he stands before it, almost proudly as you let him go. There’s a brief stalemate as you hesitate and he waits. He looms, expectantly. No stopping now.

You slide your fingers along this thick band of his briefs and pull on the elastic. He’s hard already so you have to angle around him. Your knuckles brush him and he twitches. You just tell yourself to keep going.

He steps out of his underwear as you lean back on one heel. He smirks as you twiddle your fingers. You look around and wet your dry lips.

“How do you want me?” He asks, voice brimming with barely restrained excitement.

You can only point to the couch. He sits, almost dropping down in his eagerness. He lifts a foot at a time to strip off the socks you missed.

“Should I lay down?” he prompts.

You nod.

He reclines, a long sigh escaping him as he stretches out. He props his shoulders up against the armrest and folds his arms behind his head. His dick bobs up and down as you choke out tiny breaths.

You resist the fantasy brewing at the back of your head. How often in your life did you build fantasies that could never be? Dr. Kemp wouldn’t like that. Dr. Kemp! You need to stop thinking of him.

Yet, you do. You don’t see the living room or the gray couch, you see the brown leather and smell the citrusy edge of his cologne. You come forward, in a parallel world, and climb up onto the couch. As you touch him, he shivers and groans.

When you stroke Andy, your eyes meet him but don’t see him. You’re met with another shade of iris, rich and aquamarine, gentle and affectionate. You’re almost delirious as your mind takes over, painting over the canvas with a fresh coat, a prettier coat.

It’s Steve beneath you as you swing your leg over the thick thighs. It’s him groaning and grunting as you play with him, shyly at first, then more firmly. You grip him tighter, wanting to feel him, wanting more.

A hand on your hip urges you on. You raise yourself on your knees and angle the swollen tips against your cunt. You’re wet. You could cry out in relief. You’re actually wet. But as you glide down onto the thick length, the illusion shatters.

You squeak as Andy stretches you. As you come down, he slides deeper than he ever has. The dull pain is heavy and horrible. You try to push off of him but his hands quickly grab your hips and hold you down. He wiggles his pelvis, searching for the limit.

“Ah, dove,” he moans and teethes his lip.

You slap your hands on his chest and murmur. You hang your head as you try to still him. Stop, stop, it hurts. Your pleas go unspoken as you curl your nails into his muscle. It only seems to encourage him as he tilts your hips for you.

He puts you into a rhythm. A slow tempo that has you rolling your hips, your clit rubbing against his pelvis hotly. Your touch slips up his shoulders and along his arms. You grip his biceps as you quiver and squeeze tight, gnashing your teeth at the fullness thrumming in you.

You heave in pain as it ripples down your thighs. Your spine aches, ringing with each tilts of your pelvis, pulsing up to your shoulders and down your limbs. You don’t like it.

It’s too much but you want to stop. You know you can’t. You know if you do, it will happen again. You’ll hurt him, in that moment, you really want to hurt him. You want to beat your fists on his chest and make him stop.

But you don’t. You follow the pace he sets. When he urges you on, you go faster, when he squeezes just so, you slow. You keep your eyes sealed but the tears trickle free. You sniffle as the hot streams stain your cheeks.

He brings a hand up to cradle your face, “honey, what’s wrong?” He huffs, “why are you crying?”

You shake your head and suck in your lower lip. You push his hand away from your face and keep your chin down. You twine your fingers through his as you clutch him tightly.

The world behind your eyelids shifts again. The timbre of his grunts deepen, his muscles thicken just a little, and the tension lessens just a touch. Just enough to be bearable.

In your head, the leather is sticky under your knees, the air is damp with your breath, mingling with Steve’s as he puffs up at you. His voice rolls in you, “you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you babble, “yes…”

“Yeah, you’re a very good girl. Look at you being so good,” he growls.

“Yes, yes,” you nearly chant, your body driven by the fuzzy pleasure blooming inside of you. “Yes,” you buck your hips wildly, chasing the fiery release, “yes, yes, yes…”

You drone on, head lolling as you surrender to the carnal need. That desperate want. You shrilly cry out as the friction in your clit turns electric and zaps up your back. You shake and cross your arms over your chest, panting and puffing as you reach the apex of your ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, oh baby,” Andy’s groans shatters your escape.

You blink and see the world as it is. The tendons in his neck constrict and he juts his chin out. He moves you to his whim, all control stolen back as he rocks you against him. He has a hand on your ass, the other locked around your hip.

He snarls as he cums, spasming as you feel his release. He fills you with his delight as you barely keep yourself aloft. You brace yourself against his stomach as he slows to a lazy rock.

Your lashes flick as your head bobbles. The edges of your vision are hazy and soft, your head is throbbing, and your body is hollow and weak. Suddenly, you feel so very tired.

You let your arms fold and fall forward against Andy. You close your eyes, hiding in the darkness as your head rests on his shoulder. His heartbeat beats against you as your own feels sluggishly slow.

Your yawns and sink against him. You’re paralysed as the fatigue consumes you. You couldn’t move if you tried. It isn’t a choice, your body is shutting down. You hear him calling for you but you don’t care

You want to sleep. Sleep means you don’t have to think. It means you don’t have to feel.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #defending jacob #series #au #library au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #steve kemp #fresh

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